I wonder if my dad regrets not having a greater impact on us?
If he knows that somewhere along the line he could have helped our development in becoming more stable adults.
Especially with my brother.
Who knows what insane path my brother is taking, but it isn't a good one. And once again i have to pick up the slack for his incompotence.
I notice that is all my mother and i talk on the phone about. A note of sadness creeps up in her voice, as she discusses him. Wondering what will become of his life.
Because of his extovertiness, my brother has someone charmed people. When they came down that weekend i was suppose to move into my "new" room, he got more hi's and small chatter, than i have in my year of being here.
I believe everyone expects me to live the right way. I'm suppose to get the good job, good education...but they don't expect anything extrodinary out of me.
Like some people have that older brother who out shines everyone. The younger sibling is just trying to live up to his standard. Not the case. I feel like i am taking over double duty, of hoping my mom doesn't think we are total failures but then trying to be this individual outside of what is expected of me.
His dissent into this unknown place is somehow bringing me in with him. I feel like i have to be the older one.
She just sounded so disappointed on the phone, by the stagnate state he is in.
and i don't think there is anything worse for a parent, then being disappointed in a child.
i wonder if my dad sees that it is a direct relation to him.
You don't notice these things until you get older, and you look at yourself in the mirror and you wonder "what the hell happen".
You see how important a parent's guidance or misguidance can be. When you can see in yourself and your brother this child, searching for someone to tell them that it will okay.
When you look in the mirror and don't recognize the person staring back at you.
I have an exam tomorrow i shouldn't be thinking about these things. I should be thinking about organic compounds and phospholipids.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Sunday, September 04, 2005
The Secret Garden
That was my absolute favorite movie when i was younger. I was obessed with England at the time and had imagined that i was really born there and was duchess or something. So when the movie came out, and the whole concept of this undiscovered garden in london and a girl name Mary, i was hooked.
What me and Mary had in common was that we that we didn't cry. As a kid i never ever cried. I mayhave metioned this before, but it is the truth. I think at the time me not crying so much was a way to prove that i was tough. Or maybe it was just that i thought it was a weakness. Like i assumed only weak people cried, people who didn't have a backbone or something. I was embarassed by crying because up around people who never cried. Or at least wouldn't do it in front of me.
Of course at 16 that just wasn't the case. I started getting weird aniexty attacks when i went to school. I've always been good with my teachers, more really than students. I've had problems with some of the male teachers though, i mean they seemed to like but... . In the 9th grade i had a math teacher who just creeped me out.He was young and just started and i usually don't trust the young fairly attractive teachers.
Trust me i was never sexually abused when i was a child or even as a teen, but not growing up with a father in the house, you become guarded with men. Anyone who seems to pay a particular amount of attention to me who is an older male, i just get freaked out by, because i'm not use to it. I mean with him it small things like calling me by nicknames, or... i had to stay after school with him, b/c i'm not good with math. He contacted my mother and told her that it would be best if i had tutoring after school with him. I tried everything to get out of this. But i was doing pretty bad so i had to go. The first meeting was weird. I had to sit real close to him, i mean he literally dragged my chair next to him. I was uncomfortable. The next couple of times i brought a friend with me, and then eventually stop going when my grades picked up.
This sort of weird uncomfortableness with male teachers continued throughout my high school years. I mean...yeah. Because even when i was done with their classes i still saw them in the hallway and was uncomfortable. It was only like 3 teachers that made me feel uncomfortable. 2 of them were like the ones i felt really uncomfortable by. Both of them math teachers. Both of them left my school after i was in their class. The other one...i had a crush on, but he still made me uncomfortable.
Somewhere in highschool i got anxiety. With the whole move situation, my dislike with the town, and school, and friends. I just nervous all the time. Along with a little depressed because i felt so alone. You can literally feel alone in a group of +20. I wasn't connecting with anyone and i was feeling like i was weird or so horrible that that is why i had no real friends.
Not crying when i was younger i never really learned how to deal with overgrowing emotion. Just because i didn't cry doesn't mean that i wasn't an extremely sensitive child b/c i was. But i never let any of the emotions go. I didn't realize that would be such a problem at 19.
When someone says that when you get mad or sad or whatever to punch a pillow, thats almost what the concept of cutting was to me. There was this movie on lifetime today and i could completely relate to the girl. I don't know how i heard of cutting but the first time i tried i thought it was stupid.
I still think it is, and i've never completely done it to cause myself permanent pain, but more of a release of all this boiled up emotion, and there was always this urge to do so, even though i couldn't. When i started to get really nervous about something, or upset, i would just want to grab the sharpest thing i could find and knick myself with it. Of course being into medicine i could never go through with it, so always just ending scratching myself, b/c i felt i was too weak to break skin.
I can only describe it as when you get so angry you punch somethng. Though it hurts like hell, for those first moments it feels good to get the anger out. And maybe writing is that outlet for me, something that i can just let it all w/out having to be concerned with it all.
At the end of The Secret Garden, Mary learns to cry. In the movie any way, when her uncle comes back and takes interest in the son b/c he can walk Mary feels neglected. Just as the Garden was, until she found some beauty in it, to bring life to it. Mary was competely the garden, this unloved thing that was not taken care of, but when it was, it became beautiful and magical in a way.
Sometimes i can just feel so...misplaced in the world, and i don't see the beauty in myself. All i see is the shell of a person that i assume that i am. And as she(Mary) learns to cry at the end of the movie, without being ashamed by it, maybe that's what i have to learn. To just not be afraid of being who i am, and know that someone will see beauty in that. Some friend or my family will see beauty in my step closer of being me.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
College Kids
I don't think what anyone realizes about college or maybe they do once they leave is that there is (well for some) a lot of down time. Unlike the movies who make college seem like a 24 hour party(which it can be for the restless few), there is alot of time when there just isn't any thing to do. It's some state in the middle of expectations of what you want to have and not quite expecting the reality that nothing will. For those who expected a dawson creek, 90210, ect... view of college quickly have their dreams dashed, when Saturday comes, and you are knocking on randon strangers door, looking for a pleasant face to roam the night with you. Which just happened to me about 15minutes ago.
I've have been on this one chemistry problem for the past 2 nights. It's killing me, i have finished all my other chemistry problems on line, excpet one, which prevents me from getting a stupid check next to that section. A stupid check is driving me crazy. They don't even ask me the same question so i can't even cheat if i wanted, and i want to so bad right now. Music is on, tv is on, and i am one second away from throwing my dear laptop on the floor because i can't write out a chemistry compound in the correct form, when all of a sudden i hear a knock.
I don't get a lot of knocks, except from the Ra who is rarely here. My door is always closed, locked, and i am secured in my little space. But instantly when i here a knock, i go to the door as if this is a normal occurance. I was expecting the RA but instead are 2 eager faces in my face.
Hello Beckett
Me:[fuming over chemistry problem] Hello...who the hell are you?
(he knew my name so i thought i was in so sort of trouble, knowing that i hadn't done anything. Maybe it was housing something didn't work out, maybe my Tv is too loud, maybe my dancing has somehow caused so much noise, even though i live on the second floor and no one is under me)
Boy: Just knocking on people's door. Everyone seems to be gone.
I finally look at my door, as he repeats me name again and notice the large name tag on my door, that they put on in the beginning of the year, but that no one really takes down
Me: well it's labor day weekend.
Boy: Yeah, we are just really bored so we are going to knock on some more people's door. Do you know if anyone else is on the hall.
Me: not really but you have a couple of more doors to go, hope you find whatever or whoever you are looking for.
Boy: Bye Beckett, sorry to have bothered you.
I close my door, noticing that i am wearing my skirt jacked up way past my knees(what i'm in my room i like to wear skirts which is the only time i wear them), and i get a little embarassed.
it's a big misconception, at least on my part, that college is this 24/7 party. I think really it's just a place full of people expecting the same hogwash that is seen on tv, and somehow we try to replicate into reality which doesn't work out. Unless you count knocking on people's door ar 10 a party.
Sometimes i wonder if in this day and age wether that is all life is, some big misconception that we have, about our general lives which is soley dependent on movies, tv, and ect.
Like life is starting to imitate art. And people are becoming products of what is seen tv.
P.S(many hours later)
It now 1 am as i write this...but i finally solved the evil chemical equation. I almost cried, it took me two nights, a lot of lip biting, and almost an emotional breakdown, but i have done it and i can go to sleep now. I just had to tell somebody.
I've have been on this one chemistry problem for the past 2 nights. It's killing me, i have finished all my other chemistry problems on line, excpet one, which prevents me from getting a stupid check next to that section. A stupid check is driving me crazy. They don't even ask me the same question so i can't even cheat if i wanted, and i want to so bad right now. Music is on, tv is on, and i am one second away from throwing my dear laptop on the floor because i can't write out a chemistry compound in the correct form, when all of a sudden i hear a knock.
I don't get a lot of knocks, except from the Ra who is rarely here. My door is always closed, locked, and i am secured in my little space. But instantly when i here a knock, i go to the door as if this is a normal occurance. I was expecting the RA but instead are 2 eager faces in my face.
Hello Beckett
Me:[fuming over chemistry problem] Hello...who the hell are you?
(he knew my name so i thought i was in so sort of trouble, knowing that i hadn't done anything. Maybe it was housing something didn't work out, maybe my Tv is too loud, maybe my dancing has somehow caused so much noise, even though i live on the second floor and no one is under me)
Boy: Just knocking on people's door. Everyone seems to be gone.
I finally look at my door, as he repeats me name again and notice the large name tag on my door, that they put on in the beginning of the year, but that no one really takes down
Me: well it's labor day weekend.
Boy: Yeah, we are just really bored so we are going to knock on some more people's door. Do you know if anyone else is on the hall.
Me: not really but you have a couple of more doors to go, hope you find whatever or whoever you are looking for.
Boy: Bye Beckett, sorry to have bothered you.
I close my door, noticing that i am wearing my skirt jacked up way past my knees(what i'm in my room i like to wear skirts which is the only time i wear them), and i get a little embarassed.
it's a big misconception, at least on my part, that college is this 24/7 party. I think really it's just a place full of people expecting the same hogwash that is seen on tv, and somehow we try to replicate into reality which doesn't work out. Unless you count knocking on people's door ar 10 a party.
Sometimes i wonder if in this day and age wether that is all life is, some big misconception that we have, about our general lives which is soley dependent on movies, tv, and ect.
Like life is starting to imitate art. And people are becoming products of what is seen tv.
P.S(many hours later)
It now 1 am as i write this...but i finally solved the evil chemical equation. I almost cried, it took me two nights, a lot of lip biting, and almost an emotional breakdown, but i have done it and i can go to sleep now. I just had to tell somebody.
The Life of a Walking Zombie
Sleep has alluded me these past couple of days. I haven't figured out the magical task of using my time wisely between work, school, sleep, eat,...did i mention sleep. I end up coming back from work exhausted and then remember that i have homework to do,which i could have done if i hadn't took that 2 hour nap after all day classes and a 3 hour period before i have to go to work and scrub. So far it has only affected my sleep. I am literally a walking zombie, some days i don't even know what class i am going to, i just wander until it pops in my head.
Coffee, oh the greatness of the world, is a quick fix. I stumble my way to the shop that serves a cheap cup of coffee and fumble with what to put in it. No milk, so a lot of sugar. I mean there is a stack high of sugar, i'm so tired i don't know when to stop putting the sugar in. So i just wait for the lady to give me that "I know she isn't wasting all that sugar look" and then i stop and procede to class, whichever one it may be.
Insomnia is a bitch. You want to go to sleep but you can't. Prime example last night. 2 in the morning. I am finsihing up some chemistry work. My lids are heavy, my head hurts so bad, my body is becoming heavy with almost dead weight. and yet i can't fall asleep. I am just up. The things we think of at 2 in the morning. Everything either seems to make sense or not sense at that time. You could discover the equation (if it wasn't already discovered) E=MC^2, or the universal truth at that time because of the way your brain works when it's denied sleep. I felt like a genius an a idiot all in the same night. Until i eventually fell asleep.
My mom thinks i should work more hours at the job, i think she's crazy, i can barely make it through the week with my 3 nights, i can't fork up my weekends. The only days where i get a break. Isn't any way i can do it, unless the hook an IV up to me full of caffenine. That wouldn't be so bad actually.
I'm going back to bed. My comfortable comfortable bed, with all my homework on it. Damn
Coffee, oh the greatness of the world, is a quick fix. I stumble my way to the shop that serves a cheap cup of coffee and fumble with what to put in it. No milk, so a lot of sugar. I mean there is a stack high of sugar, i'm so tired i don't know when to stop putting the sugar in. So i just wait for the lady to give me that "I know she isn't wasting all that sugar look" and then i stop and procede to class, whichever one it may be.
Insomnia is a bitch. You want to go to sleep but you can't. Prime example last night. 2 in the morning. I am finsihing up some chemistry work. My lids are heavy, my head hurts so bad, my body is becoming heavy with almost dead weight. and yet i can't fall asleep. I am just up. The things we think of at 2 in the morning. Everything either seems to make sense or not sense at that time. You could discover the equation (if it wasn't already discovered) E=MC^2, or the universal truth at that time because of the way your brain works when it's denied sleep. I felt like a genius an a idiot all in the same night. Until i eventually fell asleep.
My mom thinks i should work more hours at the job, i think she's crazy, i can barely make it through the week with my 3 nights, i can't fork up my weekends. The only days where i get a break. Isn't any way i can do it, unless the hook an IV up to me full of caffenine. That wouldn't be so bad actually.
I'm going back to bed. My comfortable comfortable bed, with all my homework on it. Damn
Thursday, September 01, 2005
A State of Ok
I feel like for someone 19 i have so many regrets under my belt.
I'm in this state of being Ok. And i don't think it's a good one.
I constantly think of the past. And i wonder who i would have been if we had never moved. It's an irk that stays with me daily. It comes to me, when i feel misplaced, alone...all the time really.
I think it's because everything was so perfect before, and because i feel like nothing will live up to it, but because of that i refuse in some ways to experience happiness. Like unless all the pieces to this puzzle called Beckett, is put together perfectly then i don't deserve anything else.
I'm afraid of being happy here, line in a way it diminish the memories of my past. Like a slap in the face for being a traitor. I have never given myself the want to be happy here, and that has manifeasted itself, into this persistant state of being ok. Of being borderline to sanity and happiness.
I just wonder all the time who i would have been. And sitting in class today i realize that i don't even know who i am now. All i have are these expectations and generalizations of the person i assume of could have been in New York. And because of have totally invested many years wondering how i could have been at home, i have no idea who i am here.
Would I have continued playing the violin professionally?
Would me and my friends even been friends now?
Would I have been accepted ivy league school?
Would me and "N" even be together?
Would my grandma have died?
And i'm so sick of thinking of the would have's but to afraid to let them go. Because then what will be left of me. If all i have ever thought of is who i would have been, instead who i am now.
I don't know. My head hurts
I'm in this state of being Ok. And i don't think it's a good one.
I constantly think of the past. And i wonder who i would have been if we had never moved. It's an irk that stays with me daily. It comes to me, when i feel misplaced, alone...all the time really.
I think it's because everything was so perfect before, and because i feel like nothing will live up to it, but because of that i refuse in some ways to experience happiness. Like unless all the pieces to this puzzle called Beckett, is put together perfectly then i don't deserve anything else.
I'm afraid of being happy here, line in a way it diminish the memories of my past. Like a slap in the face for being a traitor. I have never given myself the want to be happy here, and that has manifeasted itself, into this persistant state of being ok. Of being borderline to sanity and happiness.
I just wonder all the time who i would have been. And sitting in class today i realize that i don't even know who i am now. All i have are these expectations and generalizations of the person i assume of could have been in New York. And because of have totally invested many years wondering how i could have been at home, i have no idea who i am here.
Would I have continued playing the violin professionally?
Would me and my friends even been friends now?
Would I have been accepted ivy league school?
Would me and "N" even be together?
Would my grandma have died?
And i'm so sick of thinking of the would have's but to afraid to let them go. Because then what will be left of me. If all i have ever thought of is who i would have been, instead who i am now.
I don't know. My head hurts
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
I wish it would rain.
I know that some people dislike the rain. It puts them in a bad mood, and some how they cannot function throughout the day. I love the rain. For some reason it reminds me of my grandma.
My grandma died this summer, and to say it was a shock would once again be an understatement. My dad called late a night, but of course no one picks up the phone in my house. so we didn't recieve the message until the morning. I was sleeping, and my brother was knocking on my door. All i remember was being annoyed. Like why is he dragging me out of bed when it summer vacation.
I open, cursing under my breath, and all he says is that grandma died. I don't believe. I'm starting to think thats how it always is, 1 step Denial. I'm like "shutup, why would you say something like that." He had no emotion in his face, so obviously he's lying. He's like "dad left a message." So i go to the phone, check the voicemail, and then it came rushing down.
His voice so sad. I mean like devasted sad. Thats what put me over the edge. At that moment i didn't know what to do. Crying was the first thing i wanted, but the last thing i did. Instead i called my mom. When she answered the phone she also had that "annoyed voice", until i told her grandma had died.
The only that went my mind as i was lying, retreating, hiding, not accepting all these things was that I hoped that she liked me. Simple as that.
I mean, i don't usually reference things from the real world, but when Danny said that "the onluy person you want to talk to it(death) about is the person that you can't" well it's the truth. And the only thing that i wanted to ask her was "if she liked me"
Did she have a good life?
Was she happy with us?
I'm sorry i could have called more.
Said i love you more
Not been so afraid of your love more.
I hope i could have made you proud
I felt so bad mainly, because i was afraid of her. My grandma wasn't a knitting, cooking cookies, hugs and kisses grandma.
She played poker, smoked like it was a pasttime(she died of lung cancer), and cursed liked a sailor. I wasn't afraid of her for those reasons, but i always felt like she didn't like me. And when we moved, i didn't call as much.
That particular weekend, i had a dream my dad had died. So i called my grandma's(he was always there , they lived down the street from eachother), hoping to get in touch with him and wish him happy fathers day. He wasn't there. So i talked for like 3minutes. Asking if she doing okay, yadda yadda yadda. Except those yadda's i now regret. I was the last one from my family to talk to her. To ask her how she was. I feel so bad for being so scared of her all these years that it preventing me from showing how much i loved her.
We spent summers with her and my dad. In New York, there are like 3 story apartments. And each floor is one apartment. So my grandma lived on the second floor and my dad on the 3rd. The best memory i have of her, is when it was raining one day, and i was determined to go play outside. I knew she might not let me, but she handed me a shower cap, told me that i could have 5 minutes to run around in front of the house.
So there's me, letting to rain hit my face, looking up at my grandmother watching from the patio. And that is why i like the rain.
Soon after she died, it rained straight for like a week. I mean showered. Out of pure craziness i ran outside, in the freezing rain. Staring up at the sky, and i assume wishing her goodbye or maybe she was wishing me goodbye.
My grandma died this summer, and to say it was a shock would once again be an understatement. My dad called late a night, but of course no one picks up the phone in my house. so we didn't recieve the message until the morning. I was sleeping, and my brother was knocking on my door. All i remember was being annoyed. Like why is he dragging me out of bed when it summer vacation.
I open, cursing under my breath, and all he says is that grandma died. I don't believe. I'm starting to think thats how it always is, 1 step Denial. I'm like "shutup, why would you say something like that." He had no emotion in his face, so obviously he's lying. He's like "dad left a message." So i go to the phone, check the voicemail, and then it came rushing down.
His voice so sad. I mean like devasted sad. Thats what put me over the edge. At that moment i didn't know what to do. Crying was the first thing i wanted, but the last thing i did. Instead i called my mom. When she answered the phone she also had that "annoyed voice", until i told her grandma had died.
The only that went my mind as i was lying, retreating, hiding, not accepting all these things was that I hoped that she liked me. Simple as that.
I mean, i don't usually reference things from the real world, but when Danny said that "the onluy person you want to talk to it(death) about is the person that you can't" well it's the truth. And the only thing that i wanted to ask her was "if she liked me"
Did she have a good life?
Was she happy with us?
I'm sorry i could have called more.
Said i love you more
Not been so afraid of your love more.
I hope i could have made you proud
I felt so bad mainly, because i was afraid of her. My grandma wasn't a knitting, cooking cookies, hugs and kisses grandma.
She played poker, smoked like it was a pasttime(she died of lung cancer), and cursed liked a sailor. I wasn't afraid of her for those reasons, but i always felt like she didn't like me. And when we moved, i didn't call as much.
That particular weekend, i had a dream my dad had died. So i called my grandma's(he was always there , they lived down the street from eachother), hoping to get in touch with him and wish him happy fathers day. He wasn't there. So i talked for like 3minutes. Asking if she doing okay, yadda yadda yadda. Except those yadda's i now regret. I was the last one from my family to talk to her. To ask her how she was. I feel so bad for being so scared of her all these years that it preventing me from showing how much i loved her.
We spent summers with her and my dad. In New York, there are like 3 story apartments. And each floor is one apartment. So my grandma lived on the second floor and my dad on the 3rd. The best memory i have of her, is when it was raining one day, and i was determined to go play outside. I knew she might not let me, but she handed me a shower cap, told me that i could have 5 minutes to run around in front of the house.
So there's me, letting to rain hit my face, looking up at my grandmother watching from the patio. And that is why i like the rain.
Soon after she died, it rained straight for like a week. I mean showered. Out of pure craziness i ran outside, in the freezing rain. Staring up at the sky, and i assume wishing her goodbye or maybe she was wishing me goodbye.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Domestically Challanged.
I hate working.
Plan and simple, it is not for me.
I don't know how people do it, go to work. do their jobly things. Go home. I just dislike immensly and whats even worse is that because of the time that i work, i have to clean up everything as the store closes.
I am not a cleaner. I just don't have the "cleanign bone" in me. You would think that i was brought up in a home of maids, a dinner staff and such because of my lack of domestic ability. Not the case. I just am not a cleaner. I take forever to do it, when i do do it, it's half ass, and then i just kind of drag around. The assistant manager, guy who made me the coffee, takes it easy on me. Must be my sweet charm or something, cause i'v been there two weeks and still manage to screw something up, and he just smiles shows me how to do it, and laughs.
The owner of the shop. Not so much. He knows i can't clean, and because of that i don't think he likes me that much. I'm watched constantly by him at the register, while i'm cleaning, while i', "sweeping". He keeps asking me " are you sure you know how to do this", even if i don't my stubborness and wanting to show him wrong prevents me frm admitting when i have no idea what i am doing. He frowns a lot when he is around me. He has reason to frown though.
Reason1
I didn't wear gloves when i was shredding the vegetables, he found out because some older guy(late 40's) who works there ratted me out. I got ratted out. So i wasn't i wasn't wearing my gloves, it's not like my hand was dirty. So tomorrow the people who ask for mushroom, green peppers or onion on their sandwich, will have a little piece of me with them, whats the big deal.
Reason 2
At the register i am suppose to announce what the order is, by speaking in this ridiculous microphone. I usually forget, so all the cooks have no idea what is suppose to be on the sandwiches, even though there is a screen that tells everything i input into the register.
Reason 3
Once again my cleaning, not the greatest at it. I can't sweep to save my life. It's more like shoving things under other things. Mopping is also another thing. I can't seem to coordinate the moping with the floor, and the water, and i'm tripping and sliding all over the place. Washing dishes is more like dipping in water, shake shake shake, dry.
The only thing this job has taught me is that i don't want to be doing this in 5 years. All i can think of when i am working, is how much i don't want to be there. I'm serving to all these kids who are having a grand old time not working and here i am trapped behind a counter, only a couple of feet from freedom. It makes me think of the painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper, trapped in this lifeless place as things go one around you.
I want a career not a job, and this is clearly a job. A horrible horrible in which i have to clean, shred, sweep, mop, scrub.
And then i burnt myself on something. I'm a pre-med student(yes i am going to be doctor one day), wanting to work in the trauma unit. But the one thing that i don't like is burns. Not that i wouldn't totally help someone who was burning, just that seeing the burns ...i couldn't do. Luckily "watchful" boss didn't see though i was resting my hands in the mushroom, b/c surprisingly they soothed my hand. Oh i forgot about that thing...
Reason 4
Keep slightly burnt finger in pile oof cold mushrooms.
I'm so tired, but i wanted to write a post before i totally pass out.
Beckett
Sunday, August 28, 2005
My First Meeting
My head is teeming from this meeting. I don't know if I am creatively inspired and need to write a script right now, or my brain is completely fried from all the ideas people were spewing out in the span of 20minutes.
I leave early for everything. I went to the building where the club was going to be held, earlier today, but I couldn't find the floor. We have this big center at my school, where everything takes place. Eating, the bookstore, music, you name it it's there. We call it the HOUSE/COMMON...Though I have been there a million times, b/c it is the center of the universe here, I never knew there was a 3rd floor. So I'm walking around, up the stairs, around the corner and overplayed imaginable looking for a way to get to the "third" floor. It's like that book that I use to (and still love even though it is for fourth graders ) called Wayside High is falling down. Great Book. Anyway in the story there was a whole chapter devoted to a floor that didn't exist. That's how I felt.
So I decided to go back to my dorm, do some "homework" (lifetime had on a good movie today) and look for it around the time the meeting started. As I get to the Common, I once again look around. But this time I take the elevator and low and behold there is a third(and even fourth) floor button. This elevator was so small, I was getting claustrophobic, but it made it's way to the third floor. I get off and notice I have never seen this place before I am a little intrigued, I head in any which direction looking at the many numbers on the door, trying find 302. There was this jock type dude behind me, I instantly stereotype him and imagine that he is going to some football thing. Until I notice that we are both staring around, looking for the same room. After making individual attempts to find the room, we decide two heads (in this case) are better than one.
He seems really nice. We make small awkward chatter, find the meeting room, and then I go to the bathroom. I can do small talk for a minute but to avoid the awkward silence...Yes I'll admit I hid in the bathroom, taking deep breathes, b/c I now social interaction is about to take place. Did I mention that I took Speech class in the 9th grade. I am pretty shy, but I can do public speaking like it's brushing my teeth. The small intimate things freak me out. After feeling like a chicken for hiding in the bathroom instead of chatting it up with the new boy, I head into the meeting. Just him and I. He was real nice, he said that this was his first time being in the club and that he wants to be a writer and that he was thinking about going into radio. I don't remember what I said, but it must have made sense because we kept talking until the room started filling in.
SO this film club, is basically more of a place where you bounce ideas off of each other. After having to introduce ourselves and declare our interest in film (clearly mine being writing) we gathered in a circle and played,"someone throw an idea out and as a group we will come up with a story". I was sitting next to a pretty...How do I say...Enthused writer soon as they asked someone to throw out an idea, she nearly jumped out of her seat with this crazy concept. Classic mismatched pair who lead a life of crime...I think. It was so confusing. I sat and listened, which I'm good at doing, and just absorbed it.
I've never really garnered ideas off of any one else. I mean if I do write it's usually my own concept, and if I share it with someone(who usually ends up being my brother), I just get the feedback to revise. This was totally different. Crazy girl next to me was throwing absurd things, like she had already written the thing out, some dude in the corner was always analyzing every aspect of this weird plot, I remained quiet. Nodding frequently and laughing at jokes(hey it's a step). Who I was most surprised by was guess who...The jock dude. He's from South Boston, really straight to the point, but his ideas were good...I mean I ever did co-write something, I would use him to bounce idea's off of. I was a little smitten(yes I said smitten)with his plot concepts, he's a good old Boston Boy, though I must fault his love of the Red Sox. (I've from New York, you could get shot for something like that).
By the end of the whole thing my brain was buzzing. I absorb so much of how people think, and was glad that I hadn't thought of that weird concept. Though they seemed to like it. I'll try to put the concept in a few words or less. Tupperwear, Gypsy, Russia, Gangster, Heart Problem. Yes I was as confused as you probably are.
It was fun though. I liked it. I have to get use to bouncing idea's to people. But at least I have a club under my wing. There's a meeting every Sunday and I guess it's just a time to network our material. I don't really have any material, but Boston boy announced to the club that he was thinking of adapting a short story he had written and was possibly looking for a co-writer. We'll see what happens.
I leave early for everything. I went to the building where the club was going to be held, earlier today, but I couldn't find the floor. We have this big center at my school, where everything takes place. Eating, the bookstore, music, you name it it's there. We call it the HOUSE/COMMON...Though I have been there a million times, b/c it is the center of the universe here, I never knew there was a 3rd floor. So I'm walking around, up the stairs, around the corner and overplayed imaginable looking for a way to get to the "third" floor. It's like that book that I use to (and still love even though it is for fourth graders ) called Wayside High is falling down. Great Book. Anyway in the story there was a whole chapter devoted to a floor that didn't exist. That's how I felt.
So I decided to go back to my dorm, do some "homework" (lifetime had on a good movie today) and look for it around the time the meeting started. As I get to the Common, I once again look around. But this time I take the elevator and low and behold there is a third(and even fourth) floor button. This elevator was so small, I was getting claustrophobic, but it made it's way to the third floor. I get off and notice I have never seen this place before I am a little intrigued, I head in any which direction looking at the many numbers on the door, trying find 302. There was this jock type dude behind me, I instantly stereotype him and imagine that he is going to some football thing. Until I notice that we are both staring around, looking for the same room. After making individual attempts to find the room, we decide two heads (in this case) are better than one.
He seems really nice. We make small awkward chatter, find the meeting room, and then I go to the bathroom. I can do small talk for a minute but to avoid the awkward silence...Yes I'll admit I hid in the bathroom, taking deep breathes, b/c I now social interaction is about to take place. Did I mention that I took Speech class in the 9th grade. I am pretty shy, but I can do public speaking like it's brushing my teeth. The small intimate things freak me out. After feeling like a chicken for hiding in the bathroom instead of chatting it up with the new boy, I head into the meeting. Just him and I. He was real nice, he said that this was his first time being in the club and that he wants to be a writer and that he was thinking about going into radio. I don't remember what I said, but it must have made sense because we kept talking until the room started filling in.
SO this film club, is basically more of a place where you bounce ideas off of each other. After having to introduce ourselves and declare our interest in film (clearly mine being writing) we gathered in a circle and played,"someone throw an idea out and as a group we will come up with a story". I was sitting next to a pretty...How do I say...Enthused writer soon as they asked someone to throw out an idea, she nearly jumped out of her seat with this crazy concept. Classic mismatched pair who lead a life of crime...I think. It was so confusing. I sat and listened, which I'm good at doing, and just absorbed it.
I've never really garnered ideas off of any one else. I mean if I do write it's usually my own concept, and if I share it with someone(who usually ends up being my brother), I just get the feedback to revise. This was totally different. Crazy girl next to me was throwing absurd things, like she had already written the thing out, some dude in the corner was always analyzing every aspect of this weird plot, I remained quiet. Nodding frequently and laughing at jokes(hey it's a step). Who I was most surprised by was guess who...The jock dude. He's from South Boston, really straight to the point, but his ideas were good...I mean I ever did co-write something, I would use him to bounce idea's off of. I was a little smitten(yes I said smitten)with his plot concepts, he's a good old Boston Boy, though I must fault his love of the Red Sox. (I've from New York, you could get shot for something like that).
By the end of the whole thing my brain was buzzing. I absorb so much of how people think, and was glad that I hadn't thought of that weird concept. Though they seemed to like it. I'll try to put the concept in a few words or less. Tupperwear, Gypsy, Russia, Gangster, Heart Problem. Yes I was as confused as you probably are.
It was fun though. I liked it. I have to get use to bouncing idea's to people. But at least I have a club under my wing. There's a meeting every Sunday and I guess it's just a time to network our material. I don't really have any material, but Boston boy announced to the club that he was thinking of adapting a short story he had written and was possibly looking for a co-writer. We'll see what happens.
Clubs
On a lighter, i hope, note...i am joining a club.
I don't agree with my mom on everything but i do agree with her on a point that i am going to be at this school for a while and i minus well meet some people who i can enjoy the time with until med school.
We had a club fair this Wednesday, and i ventured down the block of lined tables with people advertising their clubs. If i say it was varied, i mean it. One end had the Republican Club, the Intertional students club, The Frisbee club to the other end which had The Chemisty Society, Business Club, Savvy(i had no idea what that one was but they were giving out free lollipops), and a Woman's Right Club. I went up to the Women's right club, just to browse but i noticed that all their pamphlets were anti-abortion and they want to make it illegal by passing a congressional law. After i saw that i was like "this isn't for me". We know i agree with choices and that group wasn't about them.
It was hot, and i was getting bored of walking up and down the street looking for a club that fit me. There was Chemistry society, but i was only partially interested cause the guy there was a little cute. It's wrong to join anything because of the cuteness factor, but i believe they put him there for that reason, about 5 girls were standing around by the time i passed. Then i spotted the Film Club. I like Films, like writing, combine them together and there must be a place for me. No was at the table, so i walked up, did the whole "hey how you doing" and he preceded to tell me about the club.
It's sound interesting. He kept saying cool, which kind of defeats the purpose of making his statements cool, but he was nice. I was handed a pamphlet and told the meetings are on sunday at 6. Which leads to today now being sunday, and me going to this club meeting at 6pm. I haven't been in a club since 9th grade, but i think important that i try to socialize, and try to meet some friends. Even if they are as few as 1 and 2 they are better than none.
I'm nervous, but not that nervous.
I returned the key to the other room today. It very great waking up in my own room, the morning sun shining on my face. Like it was kissing me awake from a long sleep. The best of the day for me is the few minutes when you are waking up. When i was younger they are probably the moments remember the most.
Memories are bittersweet. The older you get the more you seem to want to hold on to them, but they seem to want to let you go. My grandma recently found 19 pictures of me when i was a kid, i think i was more happy about her finding those pictures than finding out i got into my dream school (University Pittsburgh, i love you. Hope to see you in a couple of years) . Okay so that was an exaggeration, but i was happy that she found those pictures.
I had the best childhood ever, and even with all thos great moments, the one's i remember the most are of me waking up to the day. Wether it was at my dad's house on the weekends. waking up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. Or my mom, waking up to the sun shinning on my face, it was those moments when i felt competely safe and loved.
Even now when i am in a boring class and i daydream like crazy it's of lying in the grass, resting with the sun shining lightly on my face. Needless to say, waking up to that today was awesome. And will be a sign of greater things to come.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
I choose
Rarely do i get inspired by movies. Okay so that's a total lie. Movies, the good ones anyway, inspire me a lot. It's learning another perspactive from a stranger, or something like that. Today was suppose to be moving day. Yet...
I woke at 8 o'clock, i was sad. My room devoid of pictures and life stared blanky at me. I knew that at 1:45 when my mom came i would be moving. You'd think i'd watch some more tv, listen to music, something. Instead i went back to sleep. I hugged my bed, and just lied there fading in and out of sleep land.
By the time i knew it, it was 12 o'clock and i was still in bed. I had to call my new roommate to tell her i was moving in. When i called no one picked up. I was dreading it. My mom called around 1 saying they had gotten into town and to meet them downstairs. As i was leaving a movie by Michelle Pfieffer was on called "Dangerous Minds".Seen it? I have seen it before, and it's okay movie but not one of my favs in the least. It was at a point in the movie where Michelle is asking the students what they think is an important verb, or something. One girl says "Choose". The class laugh and she explains herself. We all have the power to "choose" the outcome of a situation. One dude was like
Dude:[stereotypical inner city voice] so you saying that if a dude holds a gun to your head, you have a choice to die or not
Girl:[same voice] No, but you have choice of going out screaming or not
I was sitting on the bed at this moment. And i was like "she's right" we do have a choice. Even if it's all we have, even if it's wrong, it's ours. So i left, a inspired and more determined to keep my room.
I meet my mom and brother downstairs. There's not a smile on anyone's faces. We are real close even though we argue like animals and we know when each is feeling down. WE head off to the new dorm to meet my roommate. We are all frustrated, my brother is complaining about the heat and sweating profusely(i though he had threw water on his face he had so much sweat on him), my mom is aggravated that i am just draggin this thing out, i am thinking of a plan, twirling around the many different things i can do to get money.
When we get to the dorm, we don't have the password to open it. I'm already pissed i haven't meet the girl yet. After 30 minutes of running around, getting the password, getting into the place. I venture down the long hallway to Ciara Lynn. What a name. As i approach i hear loud talking and music. I'm scared shitless. I knock on the door, close my eyes, and when i open them....
Worst possible scenerio. She seems disinterested that i am there. Her words are short, to the point and not at all inviting. She stands in the door, not letting my look inside. I say goodbye, tell her that i will be by later and then as soon as i turn around the first that pops in my head is:
"i choose not to move from my room".
When i head back outside to my brother and mom, i tell them straight up. I ain't moving. And i'm not a person who uses the word ain't. I was serious at this moment. I'm not going to live her or anyone else on this campus. We are going to find a way, if i have to work longer, harder, like my life is on the line then that is just what i am going to have to do. This MY ROOM. My space, a place that i have felt comfortable in, and I ain't moving. I choose not to.
Strong Huh...I surprised myself there for a second. Must have surprised them too. Cause they bought it, hook line and sinker. When we head back to my room, to discuss what in the hell i am going to do, i plead my case, like a woman on trial. I will do whatever it takes to keep this room. And i mean it, i like it here, i love it actually. I feel safe comfortable, and not like a burden. With her(ciara lynn, still what a name) i would have to make excuses as to why i am always in the room, i wouldn't feel comfortable, i'd freak out. There has to be a way, and in two weeks, will see if that way works out.
My mom seemed to understand. We went to the big RA downstairs and explained the situation and explained that i wasn't moving. I hate having to tell people that i am not a people person, but it's the truth. I mean i am a people person, but not until i warm up to you. I especially don't get along with peers. Teachers like me, but students like so much and trying to warm up to them just doesn't happen. He understood completely, and said that i could stay until monday, then i would have to go to the Housing department and tell them that i ain't moving. and hopefully the wont give my room away.
We left on a good note, but i know what i have to do, if i want to keep this room. Fight for it. Like my life is on the line people. In that respect i am ready. Wish me good luck
Prospective Digs
Once again through all the hecticness of the day, i forgot to write down the news about my apartment hunting. Something which at least makes me smile, which i don't seem to be doing a lot lately these days.
So, before school even started i knew that eventually i would need an apartment. The dorm, though i don't want to leave it, is a lot of money. Especially for someone who doesn't get their own bathroom. It is about 2grand a semester, plus with tuition its pretty high. So i did some searching on my colleg website for off campus living possibilities.
Of all the places i saw one that i liked the most. I am very simple person, a cable wire, air conditioning, bathroom and a bed is really all i need to be content. This place seems to be it. After my bank fiasco, i went to the apartments to check out the rooms. None is available right now and the waiting list is pretty long, but when i saw the place it was just right. It was so perfect.
It's just a one bedroom, living room, bathroom, and a kitchen without a sink. Weird b/c there is a stove, don't know why you would have a stove without a sink. Nethertheless i was enchanted as soon as i walked in.
I kind of take in the residents i see living in the building. As soon as i got to the entrance to boys came out with a cute dog. Check Plus. I step into it, and it is like stepping into a historic place. Really 1930's in interior, old elevator with the large buttons on it. The lady who showed me the apartment was very nice, and hopefully she will remember my face when going over the list.
Thw view was awesome, across from the theater i previously talked about, and right in front of the mexican cafe. Also it is like 10 steps away from 1) my job 2) school. Getting it would be a relief from all the stress i am feeling at this point.
I'm so tired, but i don't want to go to sleep. It's like the opposite of christmas in that i'm not going to wake up with a bunch of presents under the tree, but it is more the feeling the night before. Of the antsiness in the pit of your stomach which prevents you from having a good nights sleep. My eyelids are literally droping as i speak and it's only 9 o'clock.
My mother is avoiding my calls. Clearly she feels bad, and after me hyperventalating on the phone about my not wanting to leave, i can imagine that she is feeling downright miserable at the fact that i am hurtung so bad.
The old Beckett would have totally not have cried on the phone with her, but i don't like this concept of me not being able to express how i feel. It was wierd, i was crying pretty hard on the phone and she's al like
"i can't talk to you like this, you are making me feel bad. Call me when you stop crying"
Well what am i suppose to do, pretend like i's all okay. Have a chirpy tone as i am talking to you, i want to cry, i want to vent, and the last i needed was someone telling me not to do so. I needed her to just listen, and i couldn't even get that.
I am so use to disappointment it has become my middle name. i hate to think that i am growing up to become a person who has lost all faith in people. But little by little i am, and it's frustrating. Almost in a sense that parents or family is in some way suppose to remind you that it's okay.
On the phone i just wanted to yell "You said it would be okay, you lied" Like a stubborn child i had honestly felt that she disappointed me. Like finding that your dad isn't superman,your mom can't make everything happen, and out of circumstance you have to deal.
So, before school even started i knew that eventually i would need an apartment. The dorm, though i don't want to leave it, is a lot of money. Especially for someone who doesn't get their own bathroom. It is about 2grand a semester, plus with tuition its pretty high. So i did some searching on my colleg website for off campus living possibilities.
Of all the places i saw one that i liked the most. I am very simple person, a cable wire, air conditioning, bathroom and a bed is really all i need to be content. This place seems to be it. After my bank fiasco, i went to the apartments to check out the rooms. None is available right now and the waiting list is pretty long, but when i saw the place it was just right. It was so perfect.
It's just a one bedroom, living room, bathroom, and a kitchen without a sink. Weird b/c there is a stove, don't know why you would have a stove without a sink. Nethertheless i was enchanted as soon as i walked in.
I kind of take in the residents i see living in the building. As soon as i got to the entrance to boys came out with a cute dog. Check Plus. I step into it, and it is like stepping into a historic place. Really 1930's in interior, old elevator with the large buttons on it. The lady who showed me the apartment was very nice, and hopefully she will remember my face when going over the list.
Thw view was awesome, across from the theater i previously talked about, and right in front of the mexican cafe. Also it is like 10 steps away from 1) my job 2) school. Getting it would be a relief from all the stress i am feeling at this point.
I'm so tired, but i don't want to go to sleep. It's like the opposite of christmas in that i'm not going to wake up with a bunch of presents under the tree, but it is more the feeling the night before. Of the antsiness in the pit of your stomach which prevents you from having a good nights sleep. My eyelids are literally droping as i speak and it's only 9 o'clock.
My mother is avoiding my calls. Clearly she feels bad, and after me hyperventalating on the phone about my not wanting to leave, i can imagine that she is feeling downright miserable at the fact that i am hurtung so bad.
The old Beckett would have totally not have cried on the phone with her, but i don't like this concept of me not being able to express how i feel. It was wierd, i was crying pretty hard on the phone and she's al like
"i can't talk to you like this, you are making me feel bad. Call me when you stop crying"
Well what am i suppose to do, pretend like i's all okay. Have a chirpy tone as i am talking to you, i want to cry, i want to vent, and the last i needed was someone telling me not to do so. I needed her to just listen, and i couldn't even get that.
I am so use to disappointment it has become my middle name. i hate to think that i am growing up to become a person who has lost all faith in people. But little by little i am, and it's frustrating. Almost in a sense that parents or family is in some way suppose to remind you that it's okay.
On the phone i just wanted to yell "You said it would be okay, you lied" Like a stubborn child i had honestly felt that she disappointed me. Like finding that your dad isn't superman,your mom can't make everything happen, and out of circumstance you have to deal.
Friday, August 26, 2005
When you try your best and you don't succeed.
Well i tried, and it didn't work out. I mean i don't know if it could have worked out because my mom didn't want to take the risk of me not getting approved for an amount needed to keep in my room.
To say i was sad would be an understatment...devastated is more like it. Crushed, hurts so bad it tops hurting and just leaves you numb. I know this probably doesn't seem like a thing to get all worked up about. But i'm sick of it never working out. And i think is more tramuatizing then losing my room.
So tomorrow, for who knows how many times, i will to walk out of something i was beginning to like. Like the three year old replica of me, i will look back for the last time on something i wanted to work so bad and didn't.
I don't understand. If there is a God i must have pissed him or her off along the way, and this is payback for all the "in names" i use. It's funny how i only talk about God and religon when i'm am totally pissed. Like his or her only purpose is to be a venting post.
I'm going to enjoy my last night in here. I'm going to enjoy the silence, cause that's what people don't appreciate,and maybe why i don't have a lot of friends, cause sometimes people just don't enjoy the silence. Sometimes they forget that it is those moments, in the comfort of your own place that you can truly be content. I'm going to miss that the most.
Miss watching tv til 1 0'clock, miss being messy, miss talking out loud as i write these words. and dancing.
I won't miss the roaches, but i will miss everything else.
I'm okay i think.
To say i was sad would be an understatment...devastated is more like it. Crushed, hurts so bad it tops hurting and just leaves you numb. I know this probably doesn't seem like a thing to get all worked up about. But i'm sick of it never working out. And i think is more tramuatizing then losing my room.
So tomorrow, for who knows how many times, i will to walk out of something i was beginning to like. Like the three year old replica of me, i will look back for the last time on something i wanted to work so bad and didn't.
I don't understand. If there is a God i must have pissed him or her off along the way, and this is payback for all the "in names" i use. It's funny how i only talk about God and religon when i'm am totally pissed. Like his or her only purpose is to be a venting post.
I'm going to enjoy my last night in here. I'm going to enjoy the silence, cause that's what people don't appreciate,and maybe why i don't have a lot of friends, cause sometimes people just don't enjoy the silence. Sometimes they forget that it is those moments, in the comfort of your own place that you can truly be content. I'm going to miss that the most.
Miss watching tv til 1 0'clock, miss being messy, miss talking out loud as i write these words. and dancing.
I won't miss the roaches, but i will miss everything else.
I'm okay i think.
I refuse to be the New Girl
It's like a race against time, and i'm not giving up. Today i had so much to do, or i would my room and have to get a roommate. Last night after i apologize to my mom for giving the "over the phone" silent treatment, i came up with a plan.
Today after all of my classes i knew that i had to go to the back of america and plead for a credit card. Yes i would my credit card for the upcoming payment, yes i am desperate. Of course i didn't get out till 2 today and my "friend" mike wanted me to walk with him to his car so he could put money in the meter.
Mike is weird. I mean he's a walking hypocrite and kind condemes you for something he himself would have done. Though i assume we are buddies on a level he always talks about his dissatification that his real friends aren't going to this college. As if i'm not a good enough friend, i am kind of just a friend filler until the real one's come. Though he changed three of his classes to be in mine, haven't figured out if it is to just cheat off of me yet.
So we are walking downtown, and i notice all these places i may like to actually hang out at one of these days. There was theater that shows indie flicks and there was a Mexican cafe, also interesting. Anyway. I make it to Bank of America and basically sign up for like 3 credit cards. I mean it was a long shot, and risky but the man assured me that i minus well just try. Of course i don't find out for ten days if i get a card, on the tenth day I should get a card or a paper saying i wasn't approved.
He gave me his wife's number to possibly look at some student loans. Which help immensly. He seemed to care and i have to call her later on. I want this room so bad. We moved a lot as a kid. I mean only 4 times in my lifetime, but all times in which i was comfortable with myself and surrounding.
My parents separated when i was 3. It was a rough marriage after i was born and my mom decided that raising my brother and i in the sitauation wasn't good. We left in the dead of night, like bandits, moving to my grandma's house in White plains. Those best times of my life. My grandma, cousin, aunt her infant son, my brother, mom and i, lived in big house on great neighborhood.
We eventually had to move so we moved to another part of Westchester after 7 years in White Plains. This top the previous place, i flourished, i was liked, i had awesome friends. Cliche i know. But i was happy, i felt i belonged. Then my mom got a transfer, being the new had work in Westchester, being the new girl here didn't. And that's why i am stacking my claim, and refusing to be the new girl anymore.
There like a stigma to being the new girl. The new is uncomfortable and awkward and out of place, and if i have to be all of those three i rather be it on my accord. In my own little room, with my tv, easy-mac, and burrito stops.
Today after all of my classes i knew that i had to go to the back of america and plead for a credit card. Yes i would my credit card for the upcoming payment, yes i am desperate. Of course i didn't get out till 2 today and my "friend" mike wanted me to walk with him to his car so he could put money in the meter.
Mike is weird. I mean he's a walking hypocrite and kind condemes you for something he himself would have done. Though i assume we are buddies on a level he always talks about his dissatification that his real friends aren't going to this college. As if i'm not a good enough friend, i am kind of just a friend filler until the real one's come. Though he changed three of his classes to be in mine, haven't figured out if it is to just cheat off of me yet.
So we are walking downtown, and i notice all these places i may like to actually hang out at one of these days. There was theater that shows indie flicks and there was a Mexican cafe, also interesting. Anyway. I make it to Bank of America and basically sign up for like 3 credit cards. I mean it was a long shot, and risky but the man assured me that i minus well just try. Of course i don't find out for ten days if i get a card, on the tenth day I should get a card or a paper saying i wasn't approved.
He gave me his wife's number to possibly look at some student loans. Which help immensly. He seemed to care and i have to call her later on. I want this room so bad. We moved a lot as a kid. I mean only 4 times in my lifetime, but all times in which i was comfortable with myself and surrounding.
My parents separated when i was 3. It was a rough marriage after i was born and my mom decided that raising my brother and i in the sitauation wasn't good. We left in the dead of night, like bandits, moving to my grandma's house in White plains. Those best times of my life. My grandma, cousin, aunt her infant son, my brother, mom and i, lived in big house on great neighborhood.
We eventually had to move so we moved to another part of Westchester after 7 years in White Plains. This top the previous place, i flourished, i was liked, i had awesome friends. Cliche i know. But i was happy, i felt i belonged. Then my mom got a transfer, being the new had work in Westchester, being the new girl here didn't. And that's why i am stacking my claim, and refusing to be the new girl anymore.
There like a stigma to being the new girl. The new is uncomfortable and awkward and out of place, and if i have to be all of those three i rather be it on my accord. In my own little room, with my tv, easy-mac, and burrito stops.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
I swear i am not Bi-Polar
Trust me it is rough. I don't always have updays, i don't expect them. But i hate always feeling like the outsider sometimes, though being on the outside is sort of inspiring at times.
My mom is great and she bust her ass to help me in anyway shape or form. She hates seeing me cry, because the only time i do it is when i am feeling really low. She gets mad at herself almost as much i get mad at myself, and knowing that i am sad makes her sad. We are like connected that way. She is my only friend. I mean literally , not in the Gilmore Girlisque way. But in like i real way. We are both kind of on the outside and a lot of times being their frustrates us both. I love her though, more than she will ever know, i understand that finanically she does not have the money to afford this single room. But she tried her hardest to get the money, i honestly think she would have sold her soul to the devil just so i could have the money. We take out our frustrations on the ones we love the most, and b/c of that i take most of my frustration out on her.
After the whole "beckett you have to move into a new room" phone conversation, i headed off to good old work. Though i tried to have a smile on my face, my boss(he is like the manager, but 24), who i usually joke around with noticed that i was a little down today. I had to lie, because telling the truth might have just made me mad again. SO i said that i had all day classes today and that i was a little worn out. It was nice of him to notice that i was sad, it's like criteria of people i want to be friends with. Clearly if you see that i am upset, ask me about it? He was sympathetic and offered to make me a cappucino. I can't say no to free( though he may dock from pay) coffee, and he made me and the other guys pizza for more energy.
Sweeping away, drinking my cap. from time to time, my desperation sort of calmed down. As i stated in early entries i have horrible anxiety,and the thought of living with someone, taking in part my horrible experience last semester with a roommate, my anxiety went up the roof.
The one part of my personality i like the most is that i always come up with a new plan ,before surrending.Surely there must be a loan i can take out at my bank. SO tomorrow before walking to the room change lady, i will go to bank. See if there anything that i can pull out of the hat. Without optimism i would be no where. Luckily i have that. Maybe that is all we have, a little hope that gets us through the day.
Not giving up, trust me i want to sometimes. It is easier to fail then it is to succeed, and life sucks at times. It's not a movie, the ending isn't always clear, but like an avid movie goer, i watch and go through the whole thing before i have my opinion of it. That's how i take life, until i am old and grey i will go through it, and only on the last moments when i look back on my life i decide whether to give it two thumbs up or down.
P.S. Through all this craziness i forgot to at least write down the highlight of my day. I'm taking a english class that deals with poetry. I suck at poetry. We had to write an interpretation tuesday in class on a philosophical quote, and we would recieve a Check +, Check, Check -, or O. So today she hands back our papers, but announces that everyone got a check + but that those with comments she wrote on them were really good. So i get my paper back and it has a Check + + on it. Apparently I am a good writer. of course now i have to keep up the insightfulness, but i'm happy that grade wise this semester is starting out good. I can't believe i am a college sophomore and still i have classes in which the check method is used.
My mom is great and she bust her ass to help me in anyway shape or form. She hates seeing me cry, because the only time i do it is when i am feeling really low. She gets mad at herself almost as much i get mad at myself, and knowing that i am sad makes her sad. We are like connected that way. She is my only friend. I mean literally , not in the Gilmore Girlisque way. But in like i real way. We are both kind of on the outside and a lot of times being their frustrates us both. I love her though, more than she will ever know, i understand that finanically she does not have the money to afford this single room. But she tried her hardest to get the money, i honestly think she would have sold her soul to the devil just so i could have the money. We take out our frustrations on the ones we love the most, and b/c of that i take most of my frustration out on her.
After the whole "beckett you have to move into a new room" phone conversation, i headed off to good old work. Though i tried to have a smile on my face, my boss(he is like the manager, but 24), who i usually joke around with noticed that i was a little down today. I had to lie, because telling the truth might have just made me mad again. SO i said that i had all day classes today and that i was a little worn out. It was nice of him to notice that i was sad, it's like criteria of people i want to be friends with. Clearly if you see that i am upset, ask me about it? He was sympathetic and offered to make me a cappucino. I can't say no to free( though he may dock from pay) coffee, and he made me and the other guys pizza for more energy.
Sweeping away, drinking my cap. from time to time, my desperation sort of calmed down. As i stated in early entries i have horrible anxiety,and the thought of living with someone, taking in part my horrible experience last semester with a roommate, my anxiety went up the roof.
The one part of my personality i like the most is that i always come up with a new plan ,before surrending.Surely there must be a loan i can take out at my bank. SO tomorrow before walking to the room change lady, i will go to bank. See if there anything that i can pull out of the hat. Without optimism i would be no where. Luckily i have that. Maybe that is all we have, a little hope that gets us through the day.
Not giving up, trust me i want to sometimes. It is easier to fail then it is to succeed, and life sucks at times. It's not a movie, the ending isn't always clear, but like an avid movie goer, i watch and go through the whole thing before i have my opinion of it. That's how i take life, until i am old and grey i will go through it, and only on the last moments when i look back on my life i decide whether to give it two thumbs up or down.
P.S. Through all this craziness i forgot to at least write down the highlight of my day. I'm taking a english class that deals with poetry. I suck at poetry. We had to write an interpretation tuesday in class on a philosophical quote, and we would recieve a Check +, Check, Check -, or O. So today she hands back our papers, but announces that everyone got a check + but that those with comments she wrote on them were really good. So i get my paper back and it has a Check + + on it. Apparently I am a good writer. of course now i have to keep up the insightfulness, but i'm happy that grade wise this semester is starting out good. I can't believe i am a college sophomore and still i have classes in which the check method is used.
Suicidal Thoughts.
I'm not feeling that great today.
I won't be living in a single room anymore, because my mom can't afford it.
So i will be moving in with a roomate(sorry i deleating the whole roommate blog, but it was so long and i didn't want that to be on this bolg)
I'm sad. And afraid, and dreading it.
I love how when i cry, my mom instantly gets mad at me. Like "suck up the tears"
I can't even glide the knife across my skin right.
Defeats the purpose doesn't it.
So now i just have all these scratch mark on my arms.
A reminder of how pathetic i am.
Of how i want to just be like them.,
Happy, smiling faces walking down the street, without a care.
They could be liars, hiding the pain.
But i'd rather be a liar at this point than a loner.
Beckett A. Hughes
I won't be living in a single room anymore, because my mom can't afford it.
So i will be moving in with a roomate(sorry i deleating the whole roommate blog, but it was so long and i didn't want that to be on this bolg)
I'm sad. And afraid, and dreading it.
I love how when i cry, my mom instantly gets mad at me. Like "suck up the tears"
I can't even glide the knife across my skin right.
Defeats the purpose doesn't it.
So now i just have all these scratch mark on my arms.
A reminder of how pathetic i am.
Of how i want to just be like them.,
Happy, smiling faces walking down the street, without a care.
They could be liars, hiding the pain.
But i'd rather be a liar at this point than a loner.
Beckett A. Hughes
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Perception at it's Worse
I'm bugged out with my mom claiming that i need more friends. I could sense the worry in her voice, as she said "It's good to join clubs, you need to meet friends Beckett". It ain't easy, and perceptions about people can be heartbreaking.
Case in point the journal entry where i spilt soda on my phone, and thinking that "cool" girl next door would help, turned out to be a complete bust. Friends are hard to come by. Sure you can meet anybody and start a conversation with them. But as soon as class, the moment, ect, has ended so has that connection.
Everyone i have "meet" has turned out to be a sort of disappointment. I feel that many people my age are just posers. Like you have to be apart of some scene to be even on the radar of "hey she's cool".
As i was walking down the street last semester, they had all these clubs promoting there clubs and stances on things. I was hounded by this one fanatic about saving something...but when i asked him a question about it, he knew nothing. Nothing at all about it.
So i don't wear black clothing, and wear depression on my sleeve. Doesn't mean i don't like NIN. Metallica. Coldplay(hey they are a good group).
Just because i don't walk around with a pulitzer wining novel, doesn't mean i don't like to indulge in some Vonnegut.
I like movie trivas, and watching America's Next Top Model. I like Traveling, road tips, and having fun. I like coffee, staying up late, and a occasional trip to I-Hop.
I just don't meet friends. Not at all. Not ones who aren't posers, who can think for themselves, and are not concieted. WHERE ARE YOU? seriously. I'm so sick of it, of not having any...but i don't find people who i connect. All i see is people me age concerned about clothes, cars, and money. That's not me
So if you are out there...my friend among all the stupid people i have meet. I'm so sorry we haven't meet yet. And i wish we could become friends. So then maybe my mom won't have to worry so much.
Case in point the journal entry where i spilt soda on my phone, and thinking that "cool" girl next door would help, turned out to be a complete bust. Friends are hard to come by. Sure you can meet anybody and start a conversation with them. But as soon as class, the moment, ect, has ended so has that connection.
Everyone i have "meet" has turned out to be a sort of disappointment. I feel that many people my age are just posers. Like you have to be apart of some scene to be even on the radar of "hey she's cool".
As i was walking down the street last semester, they had all these clubs promoting there clubs and stances on things. I was hounded by this one fanatic about saving something...but when i asked him a question about it, he knew nothing. Nothing at all about it.
So i don't wear black clothing, and wear depression on my sleeve. Doesn't mean i don't like NIN. Metallica. Coldplay(hey they are a good group).
Just because i don't walk around with a pulitzer wining novel, doesn't mean i don't like to indulge in some Vonnegut.
I like movie trivas, and watching America's Next Top Model. I like Traveling, road tips, and having fun. I like coffee, staying up late, and a occasional trip to I-Hop.
I just don't meet friends. Not at all. Not ones who aren't posers, who can think for themselves, and are not concieted. WHERE ARE YOU? seriously. I'm so sick of it, of not having any...but i don't find people who i connect. All i see is people me age concerned about clothes, cars, and money. That's not me
So if you are out there...my friend among all the stupid people i have meet. I'm so sorry we haven't meet yet. And i wish we could become friends. So then maybe my mom won't have to worry so much.
I hate Love
Love is a weird concept. It causes people to totally change and behave irrationally. I think it sucks away the indivual and merges the two peope into some unrecongnizable force that you try to stay away from in all respect.
I remember in high school i was friends with this girl named Jessica and i knew a boy named Brnadon. Jessica was a quirky, art driven girl and we managed to drove creative inspiration off each other. Brandon was a smart, computer driven guy. Very formal and kind of boring.
Somehow in this weird fusion, they started dating. Together they were this unplesant person. He became all emotional and non robotic self, and she became the a smothering , kissy face girlfriend. Who was always there.
I think love changes people. I think they lose a sense of themselves to please their significant other. And for those purposes i hate love. I don't understand it. Everyone wants to be in love, to hold hands, and have a "meaningful" relationship with somebody. Your friends become outlines of the person you knew, their views, perpectives, and life plans change when the "L" word comes into play.
It's a double edge sword. I think love can be a good thing. And clearly not only the kind of Mush mush love. Family love, friend love, animal love. Either way Love is this emcompassing thing that consumes us. And Why? because we desparetly want to feel understood. We definately are looking for the comfort, and safety that person or animal(just in case you are the lady wiht 20 cats in her house) provides us.
As in mother, she loves me dearly. Love which drives her to worry obsessively about my well being. She's statring to notice that i don't have many friends. I think it worries her. And my love love, constantly leaves me reassuring that i'm okay, even when i'm not.
Friend love: In which we depend soley on them for support. We are almost defined by them . How many of us have stated "i have the best friends in the world and without them i don't know where i would be". Hmm...
Animal love: is just our need for that unconditional love. Some of us relate to them more than humans. In essense i can't say much about that because i have 2 cats.
Is that like the human race whole objective. Are we just suppose to grow up, find somebody, and make badies and that's it. Is that love. Or is it just that few moments of love that keeps people searching for it.
You know...everything seems perfect, the world is beautiful, kisses in the morning, strolls at night, i love you's at just the right moments...but that doesn't last. Am i too naive to think so. But it doesn't last, somewhere along those lines, Life happens, and that is the destruction of love.
Not every ending is going to be like Garden State. We aren't going to meet our Muse who changes our life, and such and such.We are all just going to be this soul on continually search to fill whats empty. And though love is part of it, it can't be all of it. It's not what gets us through the day. It shouldn't be what makes us soley happy.
I like love when it's normal, when monatiety sets in, when i love you's become common place but still important, when there isn't this effort to keep it perfect, when it's pure and true, and not this contrived happiness that isn't real. That's what life and love is.
I remember in high school i was friends with this girl named Jessica and i knew a boy named Brnadon. Jessica was a quirky, art driven girl and we managed to drove creative inspiration off each other. Brandon was a smart, computer driven guy. Very formal and kind of boring.
Somehow in this weird fusion, they started dating. Together they were this unplesant person. He became all emotional and non robotic self, and she became the a smothering , kissy face girlfriend. Who was always there.
I think love changes people. I think they lose a sense of themselves to please their significant other. And for those purposes i hate love. I don't understand it. Everyone wants to be in love, to hold hands, and have a "meaningful" relationship with somebody. Your friends become outlines of the person you knew, their views, perpectives, and life plans change when the "L" word comes into play.
It's a double edge sword. I think love can be a good thing. And clearly not only the kind of Mush mush love. Family love, friend love, animal love. Either way Love is this emcompassing thing that consumes us. And Why? because we desparetly want to feel understood. We definately are looking for the comfort, and safety that person or animal(just in case you are the lady wiht 20 cats in her house) provides us.
As in mother, she loves me dearly. Love which drives her to worry obsessively about my well being. She's statring to notice that i don't have many friends. I think it worries her. And my love love, constantly leaves me reassuring that i'm okay, even when i'm not.
Friend love: In which we depend soley on them for support. We are almost defined by them . How many of us have stated "i have the best friends in the world and without them i don't know where i would be". Hmm...
Animal love: is just our need for that unconditional love. Some of us relate to them more than humans. In essense i can't say much about that because i have 2 cats.
Is that like the human race whole objective. Are we just suppose to grow up, find somebody, and make badies and that's it. Is that love. Or is it just that few moments of love that keeps people searching for it.
You know...everything seems perfect, the world is beautiful, kisses in the morning, strolls at night, i love you's at just the right moments...but that doesn't last. Am i too naive to think so. But it doesn't last, somewhere along those lines, Life happens, and that is the destruction of love.
Not every ending is going to be like Garden State. We aren't going to meet our Muse who changes our life, and such and such.We are all just going to be this soul on continually search to fill whats empty. And though love is part of it, it can't be all of it. It's not what gets us through the day. It shouldn't be what makes us soley happy.
I like love when it's normal, when monatiety sets in, when i love you's become common place but still important, when there isn't this effort to keep it perfect, when it's pure and true, and not this contrived happiness that isn't real. That's what life and love is.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Getting off early...Oh, and i don't mind the French
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As the title suggest i got off work about 90minutes early. I never know what to think about that. I mean i'm happy that i don't have to stare at the walls with bored content, as i watch the many people pass the restuarant instead of coming in. (i now define fast food, as requring a drive thru, and a main objective is to get people to order and take out instead of sitting in. As with the place that i work, we kind of want people to sit down and have a good time). But then i don't get paid for those 90minutes in which i am not working. Either way i am just happy to be in my room, watching tv, instead of behind the register being yelled at for stupid mistakes.
I'm not really getting yelled at, but just reprimanded for Thursday. They kept me there way past 9 o'clock and being so ready to leave i did a sort of half ass job sweeping and wiping up. So today i was basically watched as i swept the floor, with a smile on my face thinking of A) the money B) the money. Not that i have a clue as to when i get paid. Though my mom keeps reminding me to ask my boss, i'll try to squeez it in.
There is this french boy who has just started coming in to order some sandwiches. I can't help but to think he is sorta hot, it must be the accent. It's true girls unfortunately fall for the foreign accent. It's cute seeing him use a totally wrong word, and pronounce things all funny. As i was walking back to my dorm, i saw him (Damnit i should have been working then) and he asked me how i was doing. Yes the words simple, friendly gesture that you say to a familar face, but with the accent it sounded more like "hi, i think you're gorgeous and would love nothing more than the spend the rest of my life loving you." I almost melted, regained composure, smiled, said hey back, and then continued on my way, cursing myself for not having something more saavy to say other then "hey" with an all too chirpy voice, sucking on a straw.
With this spare i have no idea what to do. Study. Watch tv. Listen to music. Write my story. I think i'm just going to rest.
European History
Today was my first day of History class. I liked it. I have lecture on Tuesday and Thursday, and then i have a smaller discussion class on Monday. The discussion time is taught by a TA. He was nice, and i'm getting use to having to talk in class and don't freak out much anymore when i have to. He doesn't laugh though, which is weird. I understand dry humor completely, but when he makes a joke, that makes us laugh, he barely cracks a smile. Getting up at 8 was a killer though, i dragged myslef out of bed. Put on some music and had to dance to get me awake. And i am no dancer. It's like watching Tom Cruise in Risky Business. I literally have on my underwear and tee-shirt,and am doing some weird modern dance inspired footwork. Maybe i was a ballet dancer in my past life.
There are so many people here. It drives me crazy. This university is big, and there are more freshman than last year. Even on the street you are bumping shoulder, dodging elbows, and such. It's insane.
I'm beginning to get use to the small chatter. I have talked to at least 5 people in my class. And yes i consider asking a question speaking to someone. I just allies in class, even if they aren't people who will eventually be my friend. We have to do the stupid, get a partner ask him or her these question and then introduce them to the class. It is so stupid, banal, and just corny. I always grab the least threatening face. Out of comfort, and then we do the class assignment. Today it was a girl named Laura, she seems nice, really smart, and a psych major. She told me to take another teacher for Psych 101, because the man's class that i dropped is (as i figured) extremely boring and that there is another good teacher to get next semester seeing i dropped that class. Always a useful thing.
I have to go to work at 5. Hopefully i won't be the only working tonight, and i can get out at a resonable time. I swear they are working me to the floor. I also am going to study some more chemistry, i'm trying to get straight A's. Impossible feat....Maybe. But there's always hope, and determination.
What i learned about European History today: King James was kind of crazy in a egostical sort of way.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
The tale of Two
I can't talk about him.
I know i said that i would.
But maybe i'm just not ready to talk about him yet.
Everytime i try to write it down, i doesn't come out the right way.
I feel like i woun't be able to express what i feel in words.
He makes me head hurt.
I make my head hurt.
Maybe i should just reframe from talking about him altogether.
I feel stupid for thinking of him.
Love or not.
It was such a long time ago.
And yet i can't seem to let him go.
I know i said that i would.
But maybe i'm just not ready to talk about him yet.
Everytime i try to write it down, i doesn't come out the right way.
I feel like i woun't be able to express what i feel in words.
He makes me head hurt.
I make my head hurt.
Maybe i should just reframe from talking about him altogether.
I feel stupid for thinking of him.
Love or not.
It was such a long time ago.
And yet i can't seem to let him go.
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