He'll Bite Your Head Off.

I kid, I kid. He's too gentle for head biting. Because my mom is wicked awesome she sentme a valentine's day care package equipped with chocolate, lollipops, and a stuffed dog named Buddy. If you press his paw, his ears will wiggle and he barks followed by him saying, rather frenzied, "hug me, hug me...hug me". And because i can't turn down a pleading dog, i hug him.

My valentine's day was pretty uneventful but nonetheless i still enjoyed it. Short boy's Ex-Girfriend talked about her new boyfriend. My boss talked about her old boyfriend. And i of course spent the better part of my day dreaming ideally of medieval tales and knights (my Medieval Masculinity class is the shit)

I was kind of hoping Mike would call today. Yesterday he called me because he needed to borrow a calculator. Because my phone was off i didn't get the message until that afternoon. When i called him back of course he didn't need it, but there was lingering suspicion that he just wanted me to hang out with him for a while.

In a quest to understand my needs and wants from the relationships that i am slowly forming, i am having to sort of assert myself to figure out what my needs are. Which is proving to be a generally scary thing. I have no idea how to say to someone "that i need them"(of course not in those terms). Their frienship, their understanding, or their time to jut hang out.

So i didn't say to him "hey do you want to just get some coffee or something". I just did the awkward "okay i'll talk to you later thing" and hung up.

Damn.

I'll have to talk about my therapy session tomorrow ( i keep holding it off) . It seems like a little cliche to talk about love on the day of love. And plus i don't want to feel all mushy gushy on V day. I'll save that shit for the movies.

I have a paper to write and chocolate to eat.

Until then. Happy Valentine's Day.

Beckett, the Vampire Slayer?

I had a dream about vampires last night.

For some reason the apartment complex that i was living in became infested with those blood suckers, forcing everyone down to the laundry room (located in the basement) where me and the rest of the residents started turning on each other, as the vampires made there way down to us.

By the time they reached us only me, the kid from August Rush( i don't know why) and some dude were the only survivors (your perfect nuclear family concieved from chaos) of the apartment. By the time we made it out, the news and government where already camped out side, reporting that our apartment was the only apartment complex in the metroploitan area overrun by vampires but the violence from which the residents turned on each other was the worse they had ever seen or documented.

According to Dreammoods.com (a highly reliable source. ???) Dreaming of a vampire symbolizes:

a)seduction and sensuality, as well as fear and death.
b)depiction of someone in your waking life whose charm may ultimately prove harmful.
c)decisions about sex and losing your virginity.
d)that you are feeling physically or emotionally drained.

Seeing that i had therapy on Friday where i confessed that i desperately want connections and love, but feel that i am not worthy of them, i think i can cross a, b, and c...and go directly to my good old friend D.

After i continued on making my confessions to him (which he let me drag on about well over the 45 minutes), he sat back in his chair and said "Holy Shit, this has been a very good session"

I'll have to expand about it more when i get back from class, or apparently when i get back from slaying damn vampires.

Work Ethic does not equal Schoraly Ethic.

I am an amazing worker.



I don't want to boast about my kickassness at work (the university library)...but i get shit done. And i get shit done well. After my first disastrous work experience, where i was fired a month after being hired, i took it as a personal attack on my skills. Not that i had much skills making fries and asking customers what the hell they wanted to eat...but i walked in every night with a good attitude even when most of those nights were shitty.



I actually like working because i like starting, working on, and eventually completing tasks. I could not have a job where not only was i sitting on my ass all day but i was not being productive in some way. I'm not saying that library isn't one of those jobs (because it kind of is) but there is at least an end result to all the shelving. Books are put in their right place, and order is restored to the world.



My boss wonders where i get all the energy to admittedly start working when i get there. I tell her i don't know, i just like things to get done.



I wish i could say that i have applied my work ethic to school. But that would be a lie and lying isn't cool. When it comes to actual school work i am procrastinator. You know the saying "she is relying on pretty" on everything that she does. Well i'm relying on smart, and that isn't getting me too far. Because i know that i am not an idiot i don't really apply myself like i should. It's been about 3-4 weeks since school started and i can barely drag myself to class without yawning.



I am running on little sleep during the week. With six classes i barely know what day it is yet alone what class i am suppose to be going to. I drank as much coffee as i can, jet off to work and then class, am exhausted by the time i get to class, head back to my dorm, because of the exhausation i take a nap, only to be awake at night, to then wake up to an early morning.



My routine is thrown all off track, and adjusting to it has been harder than i thought. This still doesn't excuse my general procrastination but it has enhanced it some. I'm just lagging behind and struggling to get back on the ball. I have so much to do and no idea how to squeeze it into my schedule.


I'll figure it out somwhere in between naps.



SOOO.....I applied to two grad schools in janauary. I could only do two (due to the "I'm going crazy week). The truth is, despite my love of writing...i have no portfolio. Portfolio's, i have learned, are important, because it is an accumulation of your work which can easily be distributed when the time is right. Or when you have to apply to grad school. My stress level would have been a lot lower if i already had stories, if i had the time to write.



The story i turned in...was kind of sucky. What i wanted to do with it would have taken a while, so i turned in a draft. My therapist (who i see tomorrow) is delicately trying to prepare me for rejection because he knows that i don't deal with it well.



I however, am okay with not getting into a writing program right this minute. I mean i realize how important it is for me to go to grad school. I can be taught really great professors and professionals, be immersed in a community that focuses on fiction and screen writing, and hell i could met some really cool and hot people . But.. and this is a big one I am exhausted from school, and though i know the perils of taking a year off, i know the benefits my body and my work could recieve from having the time to do so. From not being in a classroom just for a while.



So i have planned that if grad school won't work this year ( meaning i don't get accpeted) I am moving to New Haven, Conneticut. Because the coast of living in New York is insane and i have to look for an alternative living area. A place where i can get a job, take the year off, and write in between living. My aunt suggested New Haven, because they have a metro which runs directly to the city. It's a two hour trip, but if i wanted to i could live and work according to my needs.



It's sort of an impulsive decision. Going off for a year to a place i've never been to, to work, to write, and to start fresh. But i think i need that more than anything right now. It is plan B and all, but i sounds pleasant to my ears



And if this doesn't say somthing, Haven means: A place of shelter, safety, or retreat; a refuge; an asylum.



Ignoring the asylum part, this is clearly affirming something, even if i am not so sure of what that something is.

Shakespeare.

There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who love shakespeare and those who can't read his plays without drowning in old english and complete confusion.

I am the latter.

I have to take two pre 1800 lit classes to graduate and needless to say i waited until the last semester to do so. For a day i was in a shakespeare's class this summer, but i was so mortified by my teacher who wanted us to act the plays out in front of the class, that i quickly dropped it.

However unless i plan to remain a college student my whole life, i have to get these classes out of the way or i will be stuck here...forever.

I am taking a shakespeares tragedy and a medieval masculinity class to fulfill my requirement. My medieval masculinity teacher is wicked awesome. She has that cool "i teach english look about her". She walks in to class with these army styled boots, a book in her hand, and these cat classes which offset her wavy blonde hair. Then for the next 75 minutes she talks about knights, and queen, castles and woodland creatures. I blame my middle school obsession with romance novels on my interest in knights and castles. But for this class my years of reading chivalric stories has paid off.

I can't say the same for Shakespeare. The language barrier is just too awful. I don't think that his plays suck, but having to spend the whole time dechiper words and get character name and importance together is a little grating. My teacher is so nice though. You can tell he was never picked first for any kickball games, because he was probably in a corner reading Othello. He's kind of small and balding, and his voice is so soft he could coo a baby to sleep. Unfortunately because most the people in my class are the "i don't like Shakespeare" audience, class discussion is pretty painful.

He sits on the desk, trying to get something out of us but for the most part we just stare at him with blank eyes and yawns. It's pretty painful to watch. Sometimes i even have to avert my eyes as he pleads with us (with his eyes) to say something...anything. There are about two or three people who contribute full heartedly, but even they are at a loss for words sometimes. So mainly it's just him, sitting on his desk or walking around class talking with as much enthusiasm as he can, only to greet the disappointment of our dormant faces.

AWKWARD.

And of course now i have to read Romeo and Juliet for the 97th time. If he can pull something out of this play that hasn't been discussed before then i'll have to applaud or even contribute to class discussion.

I'm suffering from a case of awkwardness this week. I feel like an idiot when i speak. I'm self conscious again, and it's because talking with people is more exhausting than i thought. I'm having to put myself out there, and apart of me is totally...awkward. In everything i do, especially when i am trying to get words out of my mouth.

I am taking linguistics this semester, and we are learning all about sentence structures and how people use language as a form of communication. It's sounds boring, which it is, but after an array of embarassing and awkward responses to questions in the last two days...i'm thinking i may learn something in this class.

There is that moment when someone says something to you and instead of having a normal response, something stupid comes out. It's only after the stupid comment that you realize "what the hell did i just say"

Today, for an example, in linguistics we worked in groups. Luckily i got to work with a girl who i've previously had a class with. We clicked pretty well and got through the discussion questions posed by the professor with a good knowledge of the material.

After 15 mintutes of group work, the professor brought the class back together so we could discuss the questions as a whole. As i was daydreaming about what i would do after class (grab something to eat) i heard my name being called. She wanted me to answer the first question on the paper.

The logical apporach would have been to just discuss what me and Alison (my group member) had talked about. Instead the first thing that came out of my mouth was:

Me: Oh Really?!?!! You want me to answer..

There was a collective laugh from the other students as i trudged through the question without too much problem.

That was only a small example of the least embarassing moment i've had in the last two days.

It's like i'm getting more awkward with age. It's horrible.

Time for Romeo and Juliet.

One Month

One month from today (give or take a few days) i'll be 22!!! I don't know if I should put exclamation points behind the number but i am looking forward to the new age anyway.



In therapy we don't really talk about my social anxiety anymore. It's not that it isn't this huge factor in my life, because it is, but i guess i am learning to deal with it a lot better than i have in the past. I'm seeing huge changes from being 20 year old me to almost 22 year old me especially in the whole social aspect of my life.



I've slowly started talking to people, and in anxiety land this is a huge leap. I'm not saying anything particulary profound but i'm saying something that has for the most part worked in my favor. I'm kind of shocked how people respond to me. Anxiety tells me that people will think i am weird, awkward, and self conscious. What i've learned is that people do think i'm weird, awkward and self conscious but for some reason find it endearing.



????



I never really knew how exhausting it was talking to people, until i started doing it. The atmosphere at work has changed dramatically since i've started saying more then "hi and bye" to my co-workers. People now are starting to linger near me when i work, and i have no other choice except to talk and make up something to say.



Short boy's ex-girlfriend is one such case. We have been hanging out more and more at work, that i feel like i rarely get anything done. Yesterday we spent all of my two hours before class, reading magazines and checking out the Guniess book of world records. She is much nicer than i assumed when short boy introduced me to her, and we seem to bond over our dislike for him.



I feel like a friendship is potentially forming, but after my experience with Katherine i'm not getting my hopes up, only to find out she's a crazy loon. I haven't had a friendship in so long, i don't even know what i want from one.



I haven't had a lot of things in my almost 22 years, and stepping into any sort of friendship or relationship is really freaking me out a little...especially now since people are taking an interest in what i have to say.



I desperately want a friend. Someone to talk to and reveal crushes too rather than admitting everything on my blog. I mean it's fun and all but sometimes you need interactions with people, just so you feel...alive. It would be fun to have someone who kind of understands what I am going through or at least someone who will listen to what i have to say and give encouraging advice with a few nods here and then.



I'd like to have someone to be impulsive with. And brave with .Silly and contemplative with. And so far though i am proving to be a rather to be interesting to people...I just haven't met that person yet. Or i have met them but have no idea what i want from the relationship so i don't try to make anything of them.

Because i'm idealist person i hold on to these all to unrealistic ideas about relationshisp. In my mind the ideal friendship would be a"Babysitters Club" scenerio (my favorite book series when i was younger). Mallory, Dawn, Kristy, Mary Anne, Stacy, and Claudia (don't worry i don't know there names by heart, i had to wikipedia it). A small group of real close friends who i spend the majority of my time with listening to music, watching movies and discussing boys (minus the whole babysitting thing). Our only arguments would arise from conversation on who loves Justin Timberlake more.

But since i am no longer a 8 year old girl reading the Babysitters club i have learned that friendships don't function like that. Mallory could be a bitch, Dawn can be totally flaky, lets be honest Kristy has no interest in "Justin Tiimberlake", Stacy has boyfriend issues that she talks about all the time, and no one really likes Claudia who will probably drift off and get new friends anyway.


Friendship is complex because people are complicated. And in people's complication and my need for connection i see how vunerable it is getting to know people and their complexity. And though i desperately seek relationships, i still am hesistant in fully putting myself out there, and watching my idea of ideal relationships give way a little, so i make some real friendships along the way.

Sometimes i give myself a headache.

SAG Awards

There's nothing like a good old award show (and kind and uplifting words from K and her friend C) to pull me out of my funkness.



general observations from my bed on award night:



-Angelina Jolie sure does look pregnant

-I'm a little over Juno and Ellen Page already. We get it, it's darling. She's darling. The whole damn movie is darling.

-Ryan Gosling was rocking that grey suit.

-I hope i look as good as _______,________, ______ when i get that age

-I hope i don't look as bad as Ashley Tisdale when i get that...wait we are the same age. "What happened to your face?"

-Javier. You're so pretty. Marry me.

Damn i love award shows.

I've had a lot of time to think over a lot of things ( and have come to some pretty profound conclusion in the process, which of course i have to write about.). I'm lucky that i have a therapist who lets me ramble for however long I want to before the the session is over. I talk so much sometimes i feel like i am hosting a show on my life, and he is my only audience member.

I told him i was going crazy. That i was being my generally anxious self again except at a much higher level. I told him that sometimes i resist change so much that i succeed in having everything remain the same, so i could linger for a while. I told him that i was scared, that i feel unprepared, that sometimes it's easier to just be nothing then to try to be somebody. But that i want to be somebody so much I'm having to get over my fear and except change as a part of the process. It's easier to give up, i told him, to settle for mediocre so that the fall, if i happen to fail, won't hurt as bad. I don't know if i can do it, I admitted. I don't know if i can suffer the fall which comes along with whatever changes that will and are coming in my life.

"But you haven't?" Is all he said "Why do you think that is?"

And it's because no matter how low i get, i always fight my way back to the surface. And when i do emerge, it is with a clarity of the present situation and with more determination to figure out all the insanity that going on inside my head.

That's pretty much where i am at right now. Not as suffocating as i thought it would be.

Now back to daydreaming about Javier Bardem.

The Sea Inside.

I once read a book about madness and it's different forms. I was walking around the library as usual, taking an on the clock break and eating cereal when the title "She's out of her mind" caught my eye.

I have a thing for walking around the aisles until something a title looks like something i might read. Though working at the library isn't particularly my idea of a fun time, it is where i can get all my thinking done. And has been a bit of a comfort this last week.

It's so quiet there. The beginning of the semester means that we see more books being brought back then we do students. And for the time being i find solace in that.

As i was walking down the short story aisle i stumbled on a book on madness written by female authors who experienced some lapse in their emotional state at one time or another. It was pretty interesting because despite the word madness there is nothing particularly angry about it.

Whether it be anxiety or emotionally prone it is something that doesn't render you mad just..on the verge of falling apart. I cannot even begin to explain last week or understand well enough to write about. It's like i was this functioning human being who wanted nothing more than to throw in the towel and give it all up.

It was the scariest feeling i have ever felt in my whole entire life. I felt like i was going "mad". I felt like i was falling apart but the pieces were disconnecting faster than i could catch them I wish i had some better understanding of it other than "i was on the verge of going mad". But that is what it felt like at the time. Maybe it was a panic attack? I don't know but in the last couple of days i have been trying to understand it and sort of hope that i never get to that place again.

And i figured out that all kind of comes down to this: I am afraid of change. I've always been afraid of change. And yet at some pivotal point in my life where change is coming more quickly than i'd like.

I blame change for everything. For my unhappiness, for my anxiety and after last week i blame it for what i'll call my first real panic attack. It was easier growing up and being able to place all the sudden changes in my life on family and friends. "The Great Move" was a huge in my life and that was all my mom's doing...and she got the brunt of my resistance towards it.

Going to college , meeting or not meeting friends, my anxiety...i blame that shit on unnecessary changes caused by no other than other people.

However what i have come to learn is that not only am i horrible at adapting to change but i don't have the faith in myself to believe that i can completely adjust to it without failing in some way. Or falling apart as change around me happens.

It seems to be every where friends, work, school, family, pets, and even on this blog. There is

change a brewing and all i can seem to think "i'm not ready for it quite yet. Let me linger here for a while until i figure it all out"

In a few months i will be graduating school, i will be venturing out on my own and any highs and/or lows that will occur in my life rest on me. It's a time when the safety net is slowly being removed from under me, when the training wheels have too come off, and when that first push off the high bars determine how I will land.

And i guess apart thinks that without those safety precautions i am going to hurt myself. Not only will i fail but i will end up with a scratched knee, a bruised ego, and no more heart to continue...trying.

I wonder if you can go mad from just not knowing. I don't really know what i want to do after college ( just that writing is involved), i don't know where i want to live (anywhere but here), i don't know anything. And i slowly sinking in not knowing what i feel like i am suppose to know. I am sinking in the turbulent change that i know is occurring around and within.

I don't exactly feel like i did last week. But my head is still somewhere my body is miles from reaching. I feel like the pieces of my once congruent self are all floating atop a vast sea before me. And the further the individual pieces drift out to sea the harder i know it will be for them to come together so i can have the mobility to swim inland.

For now floating isn't so bad. The current isn't strong and the water is warm. But i don't know when a storm will come and completely knock all the pieces so far away from one another, that they will just become lost out there.

Suite Mates.

In between my nervous breakdown, i ran into my suite mate last night.

Not having a roommate is wicked awesome. I get to do whatever i want in my room whenever i want without someone crowding my space. It's awesome.

In the dorm i live in now i share a bathroom with the people who live in the room next door. When I moved in, i immediately introduced myself to the person i would be sharing the bathroom with. I didn't want her to walk into the bathroom one day and see some shit in there that wasn't hers.

Her name was Heath (yes. Like Heathcliff) and she was to a degree she was nice. I mean i dicd knockon her door she was taking a nap. My bad. I didn't have to many run ins with her however throughout the rest of the semester. She kept the bathroom kind of clean, she was kind of loud, but other than that i didn't say much to her.

During the middle of the semester however, her single dorm became a double when some girl moved in. Just like Heath, i didn't really see or talk that much either. It was so hard to decipher between whether it was a friend coming out of her room or her roommate.

When i came back to school on Sunday, i noticed that every thing that Heath put in the bathroom had been removed. She had this huge blue plastic dresser, hair products and other such things that were suddenly gone. Plus the bathroom was the cleanest i had seen it since i moved in. At first i was like...YES!! I get a bathroom all by myself. No more random toilet flushing or people talking on the crapper. Just me. Yeah.

But on Tuesday, i heard the door open to the bathroom. It opened slowly and then closed real quickly and then opened again. I thought i was hearing a ghost or something because i was sure that Heath had moved.

So last night around 8:30 when i was watching American Idol (only the audition episodes) i heard a knock on my door and a quiet voice that said hello.

I was right in assuming that Heath had moved out, but i was wrong in assuming that the other roommate wasn't there either. Because she still was. I don't know how to explain the next two hours of my life. After we introduced ourselves it was as if we formed some weird friendship standing in the bathroom. She came in my room, i went into hers and we even talked in our adjoining bathroom.

For two hours we talked about our majors, and having a single room, addhd (which she claims she has), sleep disorders, anxiety, hot professors...I mean it was the weirdest thing ever. We forged some insane connection in the matter of minutes. She's weird and shy, and entirely too smart for her own good. She's like me. I kept trying to end the conversation (not because i wanted to but it was getting late) only to be deterred into another one. When it was all over and done, and i closed my door i had this "what the hell just happened".

It was weird. People shouldn't get along that well when they first meet should they? But we did.

I said i could help her with English (because she sucks at it) and she said she would help me with math (even though she's about a semester too late).

Weird encounter. Yes. But pleasant. HMMM.

Sanity Drive...

It was kind of refreshing to hear someone else say they were going insane today. Of course it was said by someone at work and her sunny disposition did not convince me that she was going insane at all ...but it was still nice.

I think my body is trying to tell me something. Maybe that's why i am not feeling like myself. I feel just overwhelmed like everything is moving too fast and i am barely hanging on.

My mom tells this merry-go-round story all the time for a laugh. It's that small things that make me giggle and she knows her merry-go-round story always does the trick. If you ever been to Playland (amusement in Rye New York) there is really cool carousel in the center of the park.

We went as a family when me and my brother were pretty young and my mom really wanted to go on Merry-go-round. After a long day at the park she wanted a calm ride on some fake horses with corny music playing in the background. Unfortunately this wasn't your normal sort of Carousel. Instead it was super fast one intended for people looking for a rush, which she didn't know till she got on it.

While me and brother watched from the sidelines we were kind of wondering why the horses were going so fast. It was just a blur as the horses sped up, and after a while all we heard was our mom yelling.

When she got off the ride she looked pretty rough and we headed home. Only later did she tell us that she was gripping the horse so tightly because she was falling off. Someone had to help her off the ride since she was glued to the horse when it stopped.

That's pretty much how i feel now, like i am holding on to the reins of a very fast horse and i'm kind of waiting for the ride to stop.

of course i should not have discussed my kind of breakdown with my mother last night, who doesn't deal with awkward conversations well.

Mom: How are you doing? Were classes okay?

Me: So far so good. By the way I think i'm going insane

Mom: (long pause) YEAH....well i'll talk to you later get some rest.

If i hadn't stopped her i think she would have hung up the phone. Literally. I could hear her cell phone closing as the words came out of my mouth.

My body and my head just feel disconnected and it's mainly because i feel incredibly indecisive...about everything. I feel unprepared to graduate because i feel like pinpointing where my writing interest lie is all over the place. I feel unprepared to move because my anxiety still limits from getting to know people. I just feel unprepared, like i've walked into a class and the teacher has just given a pop quiz. Except this quiz is more like a test. And i did i mention that it's 75% of my grade.

When i say that i need a break...i seriously need one so i can think everything through. So i can figure what i want to do with myself. Based on the sucky short story i submitted for the 2 graduate schools i applied too...i think that's coming in the near future.

I would a love a break. And that is what my body and sanity is telling me. I mean it wouldn't be like a lounge around break, but more a of dabble here and there in screenwriting workshops, get an apartment and job that pays a little more than library does. Travel. Something.

And i don't think I'm listening to my body. And that's why it's shutting down and i feel like i am going crazy.

I just hope that i take a breather so i don't completely go down hill.

Happiness wrapped in a hula hoop

One of the few things that makes me smile these days.

My future husband with a hula hoop. I'm in love all over again.

Lose Myself.

I think I'm losing my mind...literally.

I was lying in bed yesterday, under the covers at 2 in the morning staring at the white sheets before me. I was still working on my grad school short story and had called it a night, after a frustrating hour of writing. My head was pounding. It was as if my mind had suddenly become that weird white room with cushy walls. And the person that use to me was locked inside and hitting the walls with all her might to get out. Then this thought came to me while the image of the white walls clouded my vision: "I'm going in insane" is all i could say. It was as simple as that soon followed by tears.

I don't know who i am anymore. Applying to grad school, and trying to graduate from this school, and thinking about how the hell i am going to pay for anything has just drowned me lately. I don't even feel like i am above surface anymore, i just feel like i am drowning and the weights on my legs just keep pulling me further and further down until eventually i will suffocate.

I feel all this pressure to be someone and i think it's due to the misconceptions i have about myself. What does success mean for me? What will make me happy? If this is my path why am so self conscious on it? It's pretty difficult trying to graduate and figure out what i want to do with my life all at once. My mind and body are simply disconnected as of late and I'm going crazy. i can feel it. I don't know what going crazy is completely like for i have never done it before...but something tells me that i am losing grip.

I have slipped and fallen down a very dark hole. And the girl i once knew is lost.

Ready. Set. Go.

Classes start tomorrow. Blah.

Though dorms opened on Monday, i saw no need to come back as soon the doors open. I didn't mind lingering around the house for another week and watching endless hours of tv. I got some reading and writing done, but lets be honest my Christmas holiday was spent lounging around to the sounds of my cats purring and Cnn. The high life i tell you.

Leaving wasn't as refreshing as it usually is. I actually dreaded coming back to school. I am so sick of school i think it is exuding from my skin. I minus well wear a bumper sticker saying "get me the hell out of here, i am drowning in academics". No not even a bumper a sticker, i need to make a t-shirt for my frustrations.

One more semester to go and I'm hanging on a thread. 6 classes, 2 summer classes and then i am free. FREE.

Free to do what? I don't know yet. But free nonetheless

YEAH!!!!!

Blockage

"it was a dark and stormy night..."

"The night was humid..."

"The night was dry yet raining..."

"The clouds were dark...."

"The storm...."

Excuse me for the absence and lack of posting. Writing a short story is harder than i thought and i have less than one week to do it. I recently saw Throw Momma From The Trainfor the 50th time and am now understanding the writers frustration.

I think i have been on "the wind howled" for two weeks now. I don't have any characters, any setting but simply "the wind howled...". I think if i heard a wind howl right now i would throw my computer and this stupid short story out the window.

Thanks wind and your dumb howling.

Happenings.

I got an A in 2 classes

I got a B in two others

I got robbed of a B in the last one (that bastard. Surprisingly it is not Mr. Douchebag or Lovely Environmental lit professor).

My head hurts because my brother gave me a cold. He's still as a douche as usual and i spend my days avoiding him so that i won't stab him.

Marie has gained 70 pounds and has dragged me to several movies just so she can talk about her weight in between character dialogue

My mom and I went crazy Christmas shopping and now we are both broke. But we make up for the lack of money with late night coffee talks and digging through our closets to examine old clothes.

Mom has also agreed that going to Scotland will make a nice graduation present ( i saw the travel books in her car the other day).

The grey cat is peaceful and content. Sleeping all day and chilling all night. But the other cat is dealing some behavioral problems ( pooping and peeing where she shouldn't be) and likes sleeping on the toilet.

I have a short story due in less than 4 weeks that i am having problems with. Plot, character, endings and beginnings are overwhelming me and i have that to thank for some sleepless nights and drowsy mornings.

My body aches from this flu like thing that i have. I'll be back in business once i can breathe out of my nose again and the coughing subsides.

~Beckett

The Short End Of It. Part 2

The idea of writing my graduate school short story is daunting.



Seriously.



For the past couple of days i have unsuccessfully put myself under a writing schedule. Wake up. Write. Nap. Write. Dance with cats. Write. Nap. Write. Eat. Write. Sleep



I have not exactly stuck to this plan though. Not with all the christmas stuff and tv watching.



It's not that i don't have ideas. Because i do. I'm full of stories that i want to tell and write. Sometimes i get confused about the technical side of things ( 1st person, 3rd person, settings, and narrative voice) but i know the first moment i put my hands onto the keys something will come out. Something.



However i have been unable to open up Microsoft Word and type anything. My fingers seem petrified to do so.



I admit i am hella nervous about writing this story. Every time i go to put something down on paper i think "this could be the sentence that gets me in to a writing program or not". And i guess the knowledge of that is making this process a hard one.



I've going to have to put my nerves somewhere though, chanel it so it doesn't stunt me like it has.

Enviromental Lit

I can not explain how much this class has changed my life. I enjoyed going every Tuesday and Thursday and my teacher (author, professor, and nature writer extraordinaire) was exceptional. I think it is the first time i have ever been sad as i turned in an exam. Not the kind of "shit i failed this test/class" sad. But a "I'm not going to ever sit in this class and listen to him speak about nature as if it is divine" sort of sad.

The exam wasn't that hard just long and thorough. I was one of the last to leave and probably the saddest as i handed in my paper. I feel like i have him to blame and thank for wanting to climb mountains and see the world, not just see it, but be a participant of it.

One exam down, two more to go, and portfolio to turn in.

I'm so tired but so close to the end.

Playing Favorites?

Two weeks ago...Well really...at the beginning of the year, Mr. McDouchebag said that we would have to give presentations at the end of the semester. Basically we would have to read a book by a creative nonfiction writer, print out some handouts and give a short presentation in front of the class.

Of course i was not feeling this. There was a time when giving speeches wasn't a big deal. I'd get nervous of course, but my voice and legs would not shake, and my determination got me through it.However because of a) anxiety and b) never having to do a presentations at my school, i just am not use to public speaking anymore. Yesterday i had to read two poems in front of my creative writing class, and my legs were so wobbly i thought i would fall over.

For the last two weeks though i knew we had to give our presentations for Mr. McDouchebags class, but i didn't read any books by a creative nonfiction writer and was wavering on whether i would fully commit to this 5-10 minute speech.

Thanks to the lovely people at the GRE i actually had excuses for the two days of class i missed. Monday i was in the library going over words like nebula, and on Wednesday i knew that after a four hour exam i wasn't going to go to class. I emailed him on Monday to tell him that I would be absent in his class. I was hoping that by today we would just wrap things up, turn in portfolio's and do evaluations.

I spent the whole night revising the essays i wrote for the class. I actually even took his suggestions to heart trying to use the comments i thought counted and discard the ones based on his personal style as writer.

Once i actually went over his comments, he had some (and by some i mean few) good suggestions. I stayed up until 4 am in the morning retooling my anxiety paper, and i think it came out ten times better than the original.

Of course with 3 hours of sleep I dragged around the whole day. But i had my portfolio semi done and was hoping he wouldn't bring up the fact that i hadn't presented yet.

When i got to class, some girl who obviously was nervous about talking in front of the class, was asking how many people still had to present. When i sat down she shot me a look:

"You didn't go yet did you?"

"No i thought we were just turning in portfolio's"

"No portfolios aren't due till next week"

Motherfucker. At this point i'm thinking what the hell am i going to say when he walks in expecting me to present on an author. The nervous girl was trying to tell me i could quickly run to the computer lab, find some author, run back to the room and then present. But she didn't know about my three hours of sleep, and i shrugged my shoulders saying "i'll just tell him i'm not doing it"

She just looked at me as if she just learned the Easter Bunny wasn't real.

"what do you mean, you're not going to do it"

"I'll just say i don't have anything to present"

Of course in my mind i was thinking "HOLY MOTHER OF...", and silently hoping he wouldn't be totally pissed. When he walked in i assumed avoiding eye contact would help out. But it didn't, when i looked up he was staring at me, he reminisced about the semester(I feel like i was taking a different class from everyone else. I did not have as much fun as everyone was making it out to be). Then he started talking about presentations.

"So i think we have 3 more people going, and then we can end class early" The three people scheduled to go, did not include me. He called the names of the last few people who had to present, and then took a seat right next to me as the three kids did there presentations.

I looked around the room as people kept giving me the "i don't think she went" stare. I was holding my breath hoping that no one would say anything. When the last person went, Mr. McDouchebag got up from his seat, went to the front of the class and called it wrapped.

????

There was no talk of me going. There was no general "piss-ness"(new word for the GRE) on his face, and he seemed actually pretty happy. And i was happy cause i had dodge an awkward moment.

He had to leave as we did evaluations, and when he did the few students left suddenly turned on me.

"You got an easy pass" the girl who didn't want to give a speech said "he was sitting right next to you, and he didn't say a word."

" I don't know what to say, i just got really lucky"

"That's not right Everyone else had to go" The Writer said as i walked out of the room.

I have no idea what to think about this. The man does not like me, or at least not my work. The whole semester i've been getting my papers back, marked up with x's and whole paragraphs crossed out. After the meeting i had with him about the short story he's totally been sort of rude to me.

And yet. He gave me a pass. He didn't say one word. I don't know how to take this. It was either incredibly nice of him or shitty.

Either way. I didn't have to make a speech (it wasn't a graded assignment so it won't count against me). It's kind of hard to hate him now. Bastard.

Classes are officially done. I have one take home exam and two finals. YEAH!!!! But time for a nap, i deserve it.

Here's to you GRE

OMG.

I basically spent $140.00 for a test to tell me i'm an idiot. Really? Did i have to spend that much money. Was it that necessary.

I wouldn't say my mood is completely depressed, sad, or stressed. I kind of a knew after i blanked on the word obviate ( :to anticipate and make unnecessary) that i was in deep shit.

From the annoying little clock located in the upper right hand corner, to the moments of complete daydreaming( i swear i spaced for a solid 5 minutes. My dream involved Javier Bardeem and bob haircut) i knew this was going to reflect poorly on my score. And poorly did it reflect.

My three days of studying and watching America's Next Top Model marathons did not help. Though i could have written a whole essay on the injustices of Heather being kicked off the new season.

I'm going to retake in January which will give me ample to study. Particularly the first or second week before school starts, so i'll be all refreshed from Christmas break. Plus it will give me time to study words like "jejune" and graphs and charts.

I should have sent my scores to Harvard just to give someone a giggle.

My number one school thankfully does not require any GRE scores so now i just have to work on a kickass story and hope that will be enough to get me in.

Gre- 1. Beckett- O, But fighting.

Graduate Exam

I'm taking the GRE on Wednesday. And i have this terrible fear that it may kick my ass.

I've been going over the math section for the past two days.

And there is a reason why i could never be a mathematician.

Clearly.

Floater

My mom called me a floater yesterday on the phone.

I called her back after the whole "she went on a date thing" so she wouldn't feel bad about going out with a dude that she likes. Though she still weirded me out.

I sometimes feel my life is stunted because moving on would mean that my role as the "child everyone can rely on" would diminish. Much to my pleasure. The pressure of being that kid is horrible.

My brother once said that i wasn't suppose to lead an interesting life just the right life. At 18 this phrase was even stupid to my ears. Everyone in my family thinks because i read books and go to school that my life is going to be just average. Despite all the actions which prove otherwise (my restlessness, spontaneity, humor, and drive) there is still this look that i get like "you don't have a boyfriend, you don't go to parties, and you have a book in your hand...boring".

I hate this because a part of me doesn't do half the things i want because I know it would involve me drifting further and further away from my family...especially my mom. Our relationships is weird. Good weird. We get along like closest friends, but i know that we are dependent on one another, and this dependency is holding us in place.

It's like we are holding this rope that binds us yet we are heading in different directions now. Not bad directions, but just somewhere will distance will change our relationship.The further we walk in opposite ways, the further and further we get from the dependency we have relied on.

This isn't a bad thing because the rope we hold will always represent our love, but our relationship will inevitably change. And i guess this is a little frightening. At this time we have come to the point where the rope is so tight as we stand on either ends. I want to let go because i see how close the life I want is, but I'm still a little hesitant because i am a little comfortable just standing there with her at the opposite end.

This was how i felt, until last night when she called me a floater. We were talking about Marie's potential new boyfriend (he deserves a whole post) . Every time i talk about relationships (which isn't much these days) my mom manages to subtly say"why don't you have one". It isn't phrased like that of course it usually goes "whenever you get one"

For the most part I've been letting the comments slide, but they are becoming a little much. It's like hey i know i don't have a boyfriend need i be reminded of it. Anyway, Marie's potential new boyfriend is as sissy just like the last one, and my mom kind asked me why Marie has no problems getting a boyfriend but i don't

Mom: it's just aggression, you don't have it.

Me: I'm not an aggressive person, i don't like to push myself onto people.

Mom: Yeah but you don't just want to float. That's what you are a "floater", you don't make any waves.

Ouch!

I don't know why this hurt my feelings so much, probably because i feel like i do make waves, or a least ripples. I understand that my life isn't the pinnacle of social activities but does that mean that i am useless floater of a person. Does that mean that I'm just average?

I'm not a floater. Maybe a glider, and observer. But i make waves, my own very small waves but waves nonetheless, it just sucks that that's how my mom sees me.

I don't know about this.

My mom went on a date.

"A sort of date" she called it.

"A sort of hanging out between two friends" she continued

"We had martini's" she chuckled

"It was a good time." She said more to herself than to me.

For some reason this unsettles me. I don't know why. She could even tell it bothered me on the phone, i became unresponsive and detached adding some "really" and "wow's" in so she wouldn't think that i hung up on her.

It's weird. I've never had to share my mom's attention with anyone else. I feel like a jealous cat. "She's mine" i want to yell to the guy with a weird name. With my back arched in a defensive stance so he knows i mean business.

"she's mine" i want to growl "there's no place for you here."

Someone's getting restless.

I've got the itch again. Dammit.

I was doing absolutely fine until i got to work on Monday and felt the happenings of restlessness coming on.

If college has taught me anything (which at this point is: Easy Mac is suitable for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Dressing up for class is stupid. If at first you don't succeed...take a nap...and then start all over), it is that i am a very restless person. I like doing several things at one time, i get bored with repetitive activity, and i hate feelin unproductive.

My mom says i have so much energy i should donate it to some people. Trust me I'm not a hyperactive person, my personality is calm and collected with a ounce of fun, wit and sarcasm, but when I'm not doing something (be it singing to music, typing at the key board, cleaning my room, walking) i just feel lazy.

My whole problem with grad is that I'm kind of sick of sitting in classrooms all day. I get up, go to class, try not to fall asleep, and then end of doing so anyway. I've been frustrated mostly by Mr. Douchebag because his teaching style doesn't allow us to be productive. We've sat the whole semester, read each other's paper, and I've at least tried not to cry from boredom ( at the last minute he thought it would be fun to make us do presentations, probably because he is sick of hearing his own voice. Of course I'm not doing it, for many reason. Nerves 15%, unpreparedness 35%, GRE exam next week, writing portfolio due, papers, studying 50%)

As a child i was always filled for a need of exploration and learning, and unfortunately that has not subsided. Ever so often i get this almost unquenchable need to go off and do something. My mind gets set on going to a place i have physically never been too. My legs get fidgety with a need to run and jump, but mainly heart fills with a yearning that consumes everything that i am. I want to see things, i want to experience things, i want to escape from the confinement of my life and just go offwith a camera in one hand a book in the other, and comfy shoes on my feet.

My boss (who i have to go in more detail about later) once said that in your 20's there is window of opportunity that makes you feel you can do anything. She wanted to be a painter she was 22, but the older she got, the smaller the window of opportunity (called nerves) became, and she was too frightened to do anything by the time she was in her 30's.

I don't worry about the window closing for me. I get freaked about my aspirations and the future like any one else, but there will always be this need (like i have now) to go off and do something. I'm so sick of just waiting idly, I'm ready to go off and explore. It's impulsive I know but behind my cool exterior has always been this ounce of impulsiveness that i try not to act on...but sometimes i wonder where it would take me. The adventure could be pretty interesting.

Enough of that. I still have an 8 page paper due. I finished my Jane Austen paper, and i must say it kicks ass. I was pretty surprised by that.

In other totally unrelated news. 3 weeks ago i lost a book. It's called A Map of the World, and other than it being wickedly awesome i have to write a paper on it in two weeks (for a final). So upon losing the book, i was frantic because i hadn't finished the ending( and i had a test on the book) and kind pissed because i hate losing things.

After 3 weeks i figured the book was long gone and that there was nothing i could do about it. I would go buy the book or get it from the library. On Monday i didn't go to Mr. Douchebags class because i had to watch a movie for my film class. Today when i walked in kind of late to Mr. Douchebags class my book was on a desk in the corner. I couldn't grab it because Mr. Douchebag set his laptop next to it. For the whole class period i was like "is that my book, what the hell is my book doing there, who the hell had my book, maybe that isn't my book, but then what are the odds that someone else is reading this book".

After class i waited until everyone left and snuck back in the room to get the book. I figured if it wasn't mine...i would keep it. I'm horrible i know. But upon inspection all my writing, drawing, and green undelined markings where in the book.

But the weird thing was on the inside of the cover someone wrote "U R Kool". Someone is book stealer. Who takes a book, and then returns it to the scene of the crime with the phrase "U R Kool" written with a pink highligher.

HMMMMM....INTERESTING.

Crunch Time

I'm so tired. I have an 5 page paper and 8 page paper due Thursday. So far i have 2 pages (okay lets me honest 1 1/2 pages) done on the 5 page paper, and the title for my eight page paper. I'm on roll....yeah....right...

Thanksgiving was awkward. The night i came home my brother decided to bring his new girlfriend over (when my mom wasn't home) and let's say i heard some things no sister should ever hear. EVER.

I told my mom the next day, who promised she wouldn't say anything until after Thanksgiving (for my sake) so she spent the whole weekend giving him the evil glare and i spent the whole week avoiding his eyes. GROSS.

The actually Turkey day went well. My mom made a lot of food, i over ate, and my brother wasn't a complete ass.

I called Marie so we could hang out on Friday, and so the label of "World's Worst Friend" would be taken away from me. I actually had a good time. Though she did talk about school, her friends, this new dude who she swears she doesn't like yadda yadda yadda. I listened, nodded my head, and i think inserted some sentences. We bought shoes, played Guitar Hero (we suck at it) and saw August Rush (her pick not mine). Though Jonathan Rhys Meyers is incredibly hot, the movie was a little sappy. It was sweeter than candy. A bunch of senior citizens and teenage girls ,who whistled every time he came on screen, were there. Marie and I sat for 90 minutes rolling our eyes and tapping out feet (the music was pretty good)

Came back to school on Sunday, slept, ate, slept, ate, slept ate. When my mom got back home she told my brother that by March he has to move, she used her serious voice and everything. I usually would say she was bullshitting but she seemed pretty serious. I guess having sex in house was crossing the line.

I of course felt a little bad. I hate feeling like a tattletale but i had no other choice. I had to cover my ears with two pillows just to drown the noise out, and i am still traumatized. Yuck.

Overall a pretty good time home. But i am back at school and it's crunch time.

2 more weeks of classes. 3 recommendations for Grad school in the bag. Not so worried anymore about frivolous things. A couple of exams thrown my way. And a new pair of Ugs to warm my feet. I'm prepared for the next two weeks and feeling pretty good about it.

Tired Eyes

Getting to Friday is becoming very hard these days.

I spend the whole week running around trying to accomplish this, finish that, meet with professor, take test, go to class, eat...and maybe get some sleep. By Friday my eyes are so heavy from tiredness that i crash wherever a cozy spot is.

Today i had no other choice but to find a corner in the library to rest my head. For 15 minutes i laid down, trying to catch my breath as everything continues to rush at me all at once.

My head is just buzzing with a million and one things, and even though i talk about it in on this blog and with my therapist, i am not any closer to sorting it all out.

It's all about my indecision at this point.

Indecision is the name of my game and it is kicking my ass physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I won't go into it. I don't want to bombard my own jounral with anymore headache inducing thoughts about post college life. I'm beginninng to feel like the narrator of some Reality Bites inspired Blog, despite not being apart of Generation X or having a really cool love interest played by Ethan Hawke.

I will admit however that i am extrodinarily tired and fearful. I'm tired from all the stuff i have to do to graduate in August ( yep. August. Not May.). I'm tired of feeling like no matter what i do i will always be two steps behind and struggling to catch up. And i'm fearful that after all that is said and done the whole busting my ass to graduate will be for nothing because i still won't have any clue what i want to do with myself.

Fact Checker

Last night while i was laying around in my very awesome socks (mailed to me by my mother who was concerned about my cold feet. Yes, i have extremely cold feet. I don't know what to do with them. They are small. And get cold easily. Damn)



Any who. While i was laying down i heard a knock on my door. I'm not really a fan of people knocking on my door. Cause you figure if they are knocking it's because it's an unexpected visit, and in a dorm, at least for me, unexpected visits are not always good.



The last unexpected visit was when two very craptatsic RA's chastised my room. Since then my room is still very "messy" and i don't answer doors anymore. But because the people in this dorm are very persistent, they will slide notes under your door if they can't reach you. I have about 10 pieces of paper that has piled up in corner. Events, Guest Speakers, Yadda.



Last night however i got a note under the door saying that i have not purchased a meal plan for the dorm... which is mandatory to live here. In the spirit of promoting a communal space this dorm requires you to eat in a dinning hall for dinner. Four times out of the week you have to subject---i mean sit among peers and faculty members and have dinner.



This sounds wonderful, if i was totally in to that crap. But I'm not, and i definitely didn't want to fork over any money for food I'm not going to eat. Unfortunately i have no choice in the matter unless i want to be kicked out of the dorm with my cold feet and cute socks.



I had to fork over 140.00 dollars (they pro-rated the normal cost because it is so late in the semester) today and now i have to figure out a way to abide by the rules without sitting uncomfortably in a dining hall scratching my eyes out.



I figure i can just run up to the dinning hall when dinner starts. Slide my card, and then leave. Or grab something small like dessert or a cookie. Munch on it in a corner and then leave. I know this most logical thing to do is eat dinner there (since i am paying for it) and be done with it...but i just don't want to to do that. AT ALL.



F*cking fact checkers who manage to find out that i had not paid the meal plan fee at the beginning of the year. I thought my magical ability to go unnoticed would work, but no...not this time.



I'm going to do a dry run today at 5. See if i can slip by unnoticed. I haven't done the slip in a very long time, i'm a little rusty at it.

Anyway

I think i have royally pissed off Mr. Douchebag. Although our meeting a couple of weeks ago was very successful and pleasant my opinions about him have not changed. He's still boring, his class still sucks, and if i had to make the decision over again i would rather hold him to high fabricated esteem than realize how much of a stinker he is.

I guess after our meeting he thought i would warm up to him more, like the rest of the kids in class. The kids who have shown interest in Creative Writing approach him all the time after class, ask him for recommendations, and talk to him like he's an old friend. Despite that one meeting, i have not done what the other kids have done. I still ignore him, i still pay marginal attention in class, and he will be that last person i would ever ask for a recommendation. I treat him like i did before the meeting because in my mind nothing has changed.


However he now gives me this very cute but weird look during class. Almost a pout, snarl, frown mixed with annoyance and disappointment. I at first thought "maybe it's all in my mind", I have a tendency of doing that. But today when we got into our groups to discuss the interview pieces we turned in 2 weeks ago ( I interviewed my Dad about my half-brother. One day I'll explain the story in full detail), i'm starting to think "I may have made him mad"



I wont even get to the fact that The Writer and The Other Dude in My Group didn't even talk about my piece. They just went back and forth talking about how great each others pieces were while i sat scratching my face. If they each didn't mention girls in their previous essay, i would have expected a full on make out session, thats how bad they were going at it.



They threw (handed back) my paper even though we had 15 whole minutes to discuss it (Mr. Douchebag mentioned we could leave as soon as our groups were done, so they totally skipped mine to head out early). When i turned around Mr. Douchebag was standing over my shoulder, and i asked him if we were going to do group work on Friday since we didn't get to my piece



Instead of an answering Douchebag ignored me and started talking to The Writer about possibly publishing a piece in a student run literary journal (because publication looks good when are applying to grad school.)



I just stared at him like "did you just snub me..." and after getting no response the answer was clear.



Maybe i did something wrong. Maybe i should have sent a Thank You email, for helping me out. I don't know. Now i feel kind of mad, pissed,confused all while lacking 140.00 dollars.

Flattery will get you nowhere...Well i take that back.

There is a girl in my short story workshop who is a total asshole.

I know recently i have been on a "calling everyone a douche, asshole..." but seriously i have encountered the worst people.

And if she really wasn't that bad i would totally not call an asshole. But she is.

Really

She comes in late all the time(which doesn't bother) , but then has the balls to complain in class about who he knows what(which does bother me). She talks with a foreign accent, though she was born in America. Right down the street in fact.

I try to stay as far away from her as i can, because i seem to be a radar for douches and douchettes.

Because the heavens are against me she wound up in my short story group, and despite annoying the hell out of me she isn't that much trouble cause i usually ignore everything that comes out of her mouth.

The first time we introduce ourselves (when we first got in the short story group) She had this to say to me

LD: You look like a Felicia

Me: Yeah...that's my not my name though

LD: I know but you just remind me more of a Felicia. Can i call you Felicia

Me: No

?????

She later went on to rename another kid in our group. I was pretty annoyed by her renaming thing, but took it in stride because well...i wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. When she introduce herself however, it was with a fake name. LD is just some name she came up with and wants everyone to call her that. For that sole reason in class i call her by her given name.

After the first introduction she harassed me again:

LD: I think we work together

Me: do you work in the library?

LD: No but i swear we work together

Me: Well if you don't work in the library then we probably don't work together

LD: I'm pretty sure it's you though

She came back the next week after walking up to a girl at work who she thought was me( and realized it wasn't), which she later had to tell me this "news" during our class

LD: You were right we don't work together. Funny HUH.

No. Not funny. What the hell is wrong with this girl. I can't even concentrate in group because i am silently shooting daggers at her. She's pompous and crazy which is the worst kind. Today she came in with a huge hangover, i mean HUGE. She ran to the bathroom in the middle of class, her feet galloping down the hallway in a sprint so shouldn't throw up on herself.

When we got into groups, i made sure not to sit next to her because i didn't want barf on me at 8 in the morning. Apparently a hungover crazy lady is the rudest person in the world because she spent 10 minutes tearing this guys story to pieces to the point where i was even cringing. His story wasn't good don't get me wrong (athlete doesn't want to be an athlete, gets in a car crash, is paralyzed. YAWN), but there is a way of going about not liking a story with...kindness. She went on and on about how "this didn't make sense, and i didn't like this part where...". His face was beat red by the end of it. Me and the Monk just sat back in our seats and watched.

After the tirade i said something to him like: The flow and pacing was nice. Just to ease the tension.

When we finished work shopping his story, crazy drunk student turned to me and just stared. I thought she was going to say i looked like a Katie, Stephanie, or Jessica....so i was preparing my self for the eye roll and silent curse under my breath.

Instead with his lazy eyes and disheveled hair she said

LD: You look really smart. Like smart smart. My parents would love you.

Instead of rolling my eyes, I blushed

Me: thank you, that's really nice.

Dammit I'm a sucker for compliments, if that was a compliment.

Not holding my breath

For the past two weeks i have been running around trying to figure out if i am going to graduate in May or August. Because of the major change(literally and figuratively) i have had a lot of catching up to do.

My overly enthused Advisor exclaimed that i was going to be graduating in May. Which made me very happy

But then i went to do a senior checklist with someone in the English department only to get shot down. I in fact would not be graduating in May but instead August. Which made me kind of sad.

But after a cry, pout, and a cookie i figured i could take 6 classes next semester, and a maymester class just in time to graduate in August. So i head back to English department, give them my new plans for the upcoming semester only to be faced with a "Oh you can totally graduate in May"

At this point i have no f*cking clue when I'm graduating. May/ August/ Never. I kind of wish someone who give me the correct answers though so i don't have to go through the emotional roller coster of "am i or am i not"

It is very weird to think that i am going to be graduating college. I don't at all feel prepared for the real world. I wonder what it is like out there?

The Monk

There is this guy in my creative writing class who i call The Monk. Usually i am a little hesitant with religious people especially those who kind of where it on their sleeves. I think it has to do with my fear of being judged, and having someone tell me i am going to hell because i don't go to church or read the bible is not my idea of a good time.

Though i am still not a very religious peron i do respect some of those who are generally into the stuff, especially if it gives them to tools to be a better person. This is how The Monk is, he's my age but is one of those hippie orthodox religious dude, with curly hair and a beard. He is soft spoken, wears these brown boats every time i see him, and is a English major with a minor in religious studies.

There is something gentle about him, the way he walks, talks and interacts with the people in our class. If anything, i was hoping he would be in my short story workshop group, cause he's pleasant to be around.

And luckily he got paired with me and some other people.

His first story was called the Monk and the Artist. To sum it up quickly a monk encounters a girl in a dark alley who is troubled and needs help, but she keeps denying his help because she is against religion. However the monk is persistent, and she finds her faith in life again.

It was completely corny and sweet, but because i like him i was not too harsh on him during workshop. I simply suggested that relationships in general are a lot more complex, and it's okay in writing to have your characters be angry, sexual, frustrated because that's what makes them real. I felt the monk should have been questioning his faith more (for some reason, maybe he has desires outside of the church) and that the artist should have been more complex.

I wrote a long suggestion on his paper, because the story had potential as long as he added more conflict between them.

He seemed to listen to my suggestions and i didn't think i was too harsh.

Because we have to write two short stories the monk had to turn in another story this week. He emailed us (the workshop group) his 2nd story of the semester yesterda and we are going to go over it tomorrow in class.

I don't know if he took my suggestions to heart, or perhaps he was approaching his new story differently...but my sweet dear monk wrote the most sexually explicit story i have read in a while!!!!!

Oh he inserted some conflict, along with masturbating mistresses and hardons. I had the unfortunate pleasure of reading this story at work, and my face was so embarrassed that i had to take breaks to get through the damn thing.

The story is a little cliche but here's the plot: a married man sets up a "meeting" with an old flame in a hotel. He is not happy in his marriage, and is looking for a lay. At the hotel with the mistress he contemplates why is there, questioning his morals in the process. The mistress, a very sexual vixen who must represent carnal sin, taunts him with her sexuality.

At the end, he decides he loves his wife despite their problems, and has made a mistake. THE END.

It wouldn't have been so bad if phrases like " I could still get hard" , "fingering herself" and my favorite "Do you think you need to get inside me to let go of her" weren't in it.

Holy Mother of Saint Theresa. I have been corrupted by a monk. I need a long shower after this one. I have no idea why there is so much explicit (almost) sex in it , but i was and still am very uncomfortable with the story.

I feel dirty, very dirty. No more suggestions from me.

Cancelled!!!!

Having a cancelled class in awesome. You get to sleep in late, catch up on homework you should have finished, and watch shows that you usually don't get to watch.

Having a cancelled class isn't fun however, when you don't get the email that class is cancelled, and you show up anyway...waiting like an idiot....in a near empty class.

Luckily I wasn't the only one who showed up to my very empty creative writing class this morning. Some girl, whose name i don't know but it's probably something really preppy, and a boy who is also in my Environmental lit class, showed up also to wait until we all agreed that we showed up for no reason, and class was probably cancelled.

The Boy, Michael, intimidates the shit out of me. He has this very abrasive, aggressive attitude which makes him a pain to be around. Not in the annoying guy way, or the annoying girl way...but in the "take it to the EXTREME sort of way".

He's always making suggestion on how the teachers can teach better, to make the class more efficient. One day when my very nice Environmental Lit professor handed out a set of questions he wanted the class to work on in small groups, Michael protested that the questions were difficult and we didn't have enough time to answer them thoroughly.

???

In my creative writing class he makes very hard critiques, almost bordering on rude. I heard him tell one girl that her poem was utter garbage. Not in those exact words, but with a tone that conveyed it. Needless to say, i avoid him at all cost, though sometimes(because he sits right in front of me ) he turns around in his seat and tries to make conversation with me.

Because there was only three of us today, i had to brace myself as he interrogated me for ten minutes. Did you do the readings for today? I wonder where everyone is. Did you check your email? Maybe i should go to his office and see what is up. Did we have any homework for Environmental Lit?

He was so close to my face as he was asking these questions i had to back up a little. He even went in my book bag (after i made a reference to a book are reading) and grabbed a book out to thumb through it. If i wasn't so shocked i would have cleared my throat, but i just stared as he went through my book, and then put it back in my book bag.

As i stared at "invader of my book bag" i instantly "geez i could never date an aggressive guy like this. I'd be on ends all day with him"

My mom keeps hinting on my nonexistent boy situation. At this point i think she either a) thinks I'm secretly a lesbian(not that there's anything wrong with that) or b) that I'm planning on becoming a nun (not that there's anything wrong with that)

I don't know how to tell her that a) I'm not a lesbian or a nun and b) that most of the guys on campus are abrasive and scary or I'm just filled with so much anxiety about relationships that i stray away from them.

It's so stupid that the one thing I want (and by one i mean several), which is companionship, is also the biggest thing i struggleg with. I know that i am this functioning person who is capable of relationships. The few that i do have are good, and my interactions with people prove that i am not this boring girl who repulses people. But i still have this lingering fear in situations like I just out of place and awkward

I've spent so much time in therapy harping about my recent writing lag that i have avoided the whole "social anxiety, stunting my social life" thing. And it would be really good to get my mother off my back about boys. I was talking on the phone with her the other day about The Constant Gardner, and that quickly turned into a "why don't you have a boyfriend conversation".

It was during my explantaion of why I have a thing against long movie's (I feel asleep during the Matrix and have yet to see any Harry Potter Movies because of the length) Anyway as we were talking my mother said "whenever you get a boyfriend i'll make sure to tell him not to drag you to any long movies"

It looks worse than it sounds, but it still stung. Geez.

Let me make some real friends first, and then i handle my nonexistant dating life.

Getting my Mojo Back

I think i may have suffered from exhaustion last week. I thought exhaustion was just some bullshit excuse people (particularly Celebrities) used to take time off from their lives. I mean every time i have heard the word it usually came after " (Insert Singer or Actor) has cancelled their tour or public experience from EXHAUSTION"

But after last week, i am not calling exhaustion a bullshit excuse anymore because i was completely drained and irritable. This semester is kicking my ass. Seriously. Sometimes i feel like i am drowning under the weight of everything. Simple task these last couple of weeks have been harder to finish, and i knew at any moment i was going to crash.

Reading assignments have gone unfinished, i slept in a corner at work ( and didn't caught), i missed my Film class cause i over slept...you get the picture.

My bubbly disposition was gone and replaced with an irritated one. I'm not one of those happy smiley people, but i am a relaxed person to be around. I rarely get angry, i don't like arguments, and i have about 5 years of jokes stocked up to keep people pretty entertained.

But lately i have been so drained, that i just haven't felt like myself. I felt like a train going top speeds, and suddenly I derailed.

2 weeks ago i had a short story due, and at 2 in the morning i literally was still at my computer nearly in a panic saying quietly to myself "I have no idea what i am doing"

It's weird because i know I'm a smart kid, i know my strengths and weaknesses: I'm sensitive, intuitive, funny, and sometimes even charming. I'm also a constant worrier, procrastinator, and self conscious. But sometimes out of nowhere, even though i know what i am capable of, i get this frightening thought that "I have no idea what i am doing" with my life, school, the future, and as of late writing.

I have to admit something....something i never thought i would write...but lately writing has become a drag. Don't get me wrong, it's everything to me, i wouldn't be the person i am without being able to write. I still am going to be a writer, become prolific and marry Sufjan Stevens. But my creative writing class is killing my love of writing lately.

I'm not use to this whole criticism thing. From teachers or professionals in the field i don't mind getting some suggestions about my writing. But from peers, i think it is utter bull crap to have them look at my work and then try to give me feedback on it. So far i have been working with people who don't give suggestions but instead ask stupid questions as to "why did you put this in here, the grammar is off, i would put a comma here instead of there".

Not only do i have their criticism to listen too, but then i have to read their craptastic work which is very disappointing and bland.

I now feel constricted with my writing, like i have to write either a) how i think people want me to write or b) simplified as to not confuse or overwhelm my peers. Writing has not become fun anymore, I've ditched all my cheesy story ideas for "the proper" writing style, I haven't written one piece of work that i actually like, and even blogging has become hard.

I hate admitting this, but it's the truth. Being surrounded by so called "writers" who worry more about comma splices than content, has sucked all the life out of what makes writing beautiful for me.

Writing was always a way for me to connect to people. In the 4th grade when i was in love with a boy named Nicholas, i'd spend most of the school day bouncing off ideas with him. We wrote a movie along with my best friend about some kids who were spies. It majorly sucked, when i think back on it, but it was fun and natural. We didn't care that 10 year olds couldn't possibly be spies, or that production of the movie would cost more than our allowance, but we just liked creating something together because it connected us.

As a teenager writing was my escape. I have middle school and high school journals full of entries about shit days and crushes on teachers(pretty much like now). Instead of writing being a way to connect to people, it became a way i connected to myself. Putting into words what i couldn't seem to vocalize.

Writing is like this natural thing, i don't try to over think it, i don't care about grammar(clearly) and I could give a shit about spelling. I just do it, because it's who i am. It calms me, restores me, and reminds me of my natural self...not the anxious girl on the outside who is constantly worried about what people will see.

But lately i have been anxious about writing , as i am about everything else, that it's wearing me out. Writing is my one relief and if don't that have that what do i have?

I went over this today in therapy with Toby. I have a tendency of rambling with him, cursing a lot, and expressing my real sort of anxious side. He's never read any of my stuff, but he seems to believe me when i say that i'm a good writer. He thinks that i am too conscious about writing, that i'm making it more mental art than a...natural one. And he wants me to return to a state when it wasn't a task.

I haven't been devoting time to actually writing what i want to write, and for this reason i am so frustrated and stressed because my relief has all been sucked out of me. I don't know how to return to that state when writing was fun, and not a chore as Mr. McSoulSucker seems to keep drilling into us.

Toby thinks i should give more time the writings i like to invest in, so it can become natural and free again.

So no more writing about how hard writing is. No more grad school talk, grades, or any of that stuff. Back to the natural, so i can be stress free again.

I took a three day weekend (yes i totally skipped class, wrote in bed with my pj's and slippers, and ate cereal) so i could get into the writing mood again. I think it worked, because writing doesn't seem so daunting anymore.

I just need to get my mojo back.