I would love to be able to say that I am finished with my senior work for my creative writing degree, but I can't. I can say that I am one step closer however. After today, one course that I dreaded since realizing that I would have to take it about four years ago is almost complete. I hit my own personal milestone in the fact that I went up onto a stage and began preparing myself for my final project -- A capstone reading that I will be giving sometime in the next year or so. Most likely in November.
It's almost sad though. With this day, I realized that my life in college is almost over. I know that this means that my life in the so called "real world" is about to begin, but, honestly, is that something that I should honestly look forward to? Maybe, maybe not. I've gotten comfortable in my rut, and that's why I like it. I'm a creature of habit. What else can I say?
But my comfortability is my curse in the end though. I've learned that if I let myself get comfy in my present position, I wind up stuck in a rut that drags me down. That's probably why the last couple of years have not been as successful as I could hope they would have been. That's the only reason I'm not on the verge of panicking when it comes to thinking about what I am going to do after I get out of here. That's the only reason that the first weekend in May of 2009 is looking more like a bright point than one of no return.
And with those words, I must part good readers. I hope everyone who reads this finds some sort of vague interest in the miniscule details of my life. Don't quite know why anyone would, but as the saying goes -- "The grass is always greener."
A journey of self discovery that will hopefully bring me back to a place that I can truly call home, no matter where I am physically.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Funny -- Notes on a blog(ger)...
I've been sitting here, typing out something that's been tap-dancing along my mind, while looking up every few minutes, I'd look up as my roommate, the one who I've lived with for going on a third year now, sits there writing out the first part to what she had titled her memoirs. She seems to have found her niche in the writing world, despite how chances are, her profession may not allow her to go down that road. I'm almost proud of her for that. Not because I have chosen writing as my path in life, but because she's actually writing out something that's making her happy.
As pathetic as that may sound, I've known this person for almost five years. We've gone from text based vampire games and sparsely blogging to writing out that which affects us the most. Mine have been allowed out through the joy that is fiction, while she's going taking the route that I fear to go down -- Non-fiction.
I suppose that's the route we've both taken in our own ways. We've been "blogging" for years now, though the identities have changed to those who do not know us. She's just chosen to elaborate upon that, though she does not plan on forgetting her roots. I've been told that everything she's written will be going into her livejournal. Can't say that I've not done the same. Just I've not let them be read.
It's funny how things have turned out.
As pathetic as that may sound, I've known this person for almost five years. We've gone from text based vampire games and sparsely blogging to writing out that which affects us the most. Mine have been allowed out through the joy that is fiction, while she's going taking the route that I fear to go down -- Non-fiction.
I suppose that's the route we've both taken in our own ways. We've been "blogging" for years now, though the identities have changed to those who do not know us. She's just chosen to elaborate upon that, though she does not plan on forgetting her roots. I've been told that everything she's written will be going into her livejournal. Can't say that I've not done the same. Just I've not let them be read.
It's funny how things have turned out.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Yesterday, I wound up finding out that a friend of mine died this past weekend. I thought, okay, I can handle this. It hurt, but loss does that. I managed to mostly go numb, whether that was because of the shock or just my own standard emotional reaction, I'm not sure. Either way, it helped for the short term. What can I say, I thought I'd be able to shove everything to the side because, hey, what else could happen?
Sometime around 6 or 6:30 this evening, I got a call from TW, aka the Parental figure in my life, saying that my grandmother was dying. About an hour later, while I was in an area with no signal, I missed a call and wound up listening to a phone call saying that she had finally passed. Now, I think I'm pushing my sort of numbness to it's breaking point. To those of you who knew me, you know that I groaned, griped, complained, and flat out bitched, about my life at home. Know that through all of this, I did love the woman like a mother. Well, over the past month and a half roughly, she'd pretty much refused to speak to speak to me because I made the conscious decision not to go home. Now, she spoke when there was no one else there to answer the phone, but it was mostly in one or two words. Nothing much.
So now, after all of this, I'm not sure how I feel. I don't know what to feel. When this sort of shocked numbness wears off, which I think I can feel it doing, I don't know how I'm going to react. Right now, I've got the standard what's going to happen now, but that is mainly because of what's going to the happen to the rest of my family. TW had spent the past few years taking care of her, helping her as she grew worse physically. When he called, he was broken. Now, he's not been the most emotionally stable of people, but he was never one to cry or express grief. He was more comfortable with anger, and that's how I was comfortable with him.
But right now, we're all trying to figure out what to do about contacting my aunt and uncle. I've tried, My grandmother's sister has tried. I might try again once this is posted.
Either way, I just really needed to get all of that out.
Sometime around 6 or 6:30 this evening, I got a call from TW, aka the Parental figure in my life, saying that my grandmother was dying. About an hour later, while I was in an area with no signal, I missed a call and wound up listening to a phone call saying that she had finally passed. Now, I think I'm pushing my sort of numbness to it's breaking point. To those of you who knew me, you know that I groaned, griped, complained, and flat out bitched, about my life at home. Know that through all of this, I did love the woman like a mother. Well, over the past month and a half roughly, she'd pretty much refused to speak to speak to me because I made the conscious decision not to go home. Now, she spoke when there was no one else there to answer the phone, but it was mostly in one or two words. Nothing much.
So now, after all of this, I'm not sure how I feel. I don't know what to feel. When this sort of shocked numbness wears off, which I think I can feel it doing, I don't know how I'm going to react. Right now, I've got the standard what's going to happen now, but that is mainly because of what's going to the happen to the rest of my family. TW had spent the past few years taking care of her, helping her as she grew worse physically. When he called, he was broken. Now, he's not been the most emotionally stable of people, but he was never one to cry or express grief. He was more comfortable with anger, and that's how I was comfortable with him.
But right now, we're all trying to figure out what to do about contacting my aunt and uncle. I've tried, My grandmother's sister has tried. I might try again once this is posted.
Either way, I just really needed to get all of that out.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Of all the people in all the world, I never thought he'd be the first of us lost.
Earlier today, while I was on my lunch hour, I wound up checking facebook and found out that a friend very dear to both JB and myself had died earlier this week. He'd been over in Japan for six months, but we still both managed to talk to him whenever we had the chance.
I sometimes joked that he was going to die of cirrhosis before he was thirty. I think I would have preferred that sort of sentence. At least then, we would have seen it coming. Instead, he died with a less than standard amount of alcohol in his system. I think the only reason I'm not as torn up about this as I could be is because I know he was doing something he loved -- living.
He'll be greatly missed and never forgotten.
Rest in Peace, B.
Earlier today, while I was on my lunch hour, I wound up checking facebook and found out that a friend very dear to both JB and myself had died earlier this week. He'd been over in Japan for six months, but we still both managed to talk to him whenever we had the chance.
I sometimes joked that he was going to die of cirrhosis before he was thirty. I think I would have preferred that sort of sentence. At least then, we would have seen it coming. Instead, he died with a less than standard amount of alcohol in his system. I think the only reason I'm not as torn up about this as I could be is because I know he was doing something he loved -- living.
He'll be greatly missed and never forgotten.
Rest in Peace, B.
Monday, January 14, 2008
I want to talk. I want to say something. Anything. I want some sound to come out of my mouth, but no matter how I try, nothing. Not a squeak, not a grunt, not a cry. I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes, burning them with not even boiling heat, and I can't do anything about them. They won't fall. They just sit there, building up in the ducts. This sort of behavior isn't healthy. Never has been really.
Then again, this is behavior I've resorted to since I was young. Hold in everything until sick. Seems the sickness has taken on a new form. Hopefully it's going to pass. I mean, I have a job I need to worry about. I have classes I need to worry about. I can't go without speaking. Especially with this semester.
Maybe I am just worrying too much. Perhaps I just need to calm myself down. Perhaps I should just try to ignore the things that are going on around me for the most part. Bury myself in my own noise. My laptop speakers and my TV. My writing and my life. If there was anyway to do that without completely shutting myself off, I'd be happy, but for now, that seems like the only idea feasible.
Wish me luck if not some sheer sense of hope.
Then again, this is behavior I've resorted to since I was young. Hold in everything until sick. Seems the sickness has taken on a new form. Hopefully it's going to pass. I mean, I have a job I need to worry about. I have classes I need to worry about. I can't go without speaking. Especially with this semester.
Maybe I am just worrying too much. Perhaps I just need to calm myself down. Perhaps I should just try to ignore the things that are going on around me for the most part. Bury myself in my own noise. My laptop speakers and my TV. My writing and my life. If there was anyway to do that without completely shutting myself off, I'd be happy, but for now, that seems like the only idea feasible.
Wish me luck if not some sheer sense of hope.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Not Quite Home
You'd think that I'd be tired of doing dishes almost every day of the week. In all truth, I honestly am. If I didn't hate the idea of everything in the apartment looking absolutely horrible and to the point that I look like a lazy fucking slob, I'd probably let the things sit in the sink until the roommates who haven't touched the dishwasher in over a MONTH AND A HALF did them. I can't do that though. I take one look at the sink and I feel horrible guilty for every single dish in there. I don't know why I feel this way, I just do.
I wish I had enough of a proverbial backbone to tell them to get off of their ends and do the blasted things, or to even tell them to take out the garbage. They've left garbage piled up since before the first weekend of December for us to take out, and since my one tolerable roommate left before they did fully expecting them to take out their own trash, I wound up being the one to take out their nasty garbage.
Now, I know that I'm not the most... motivated person on the face of the planet, but at least I know when to do dishes and take out the garbage. I know when to clean up after myself. Too bad not all college students have to learn this lesson before living in apartments.
I wish I had enough of a proverbial backbone to tell them to get off of their ends and do the blasted things, or to even tell them to take out the garbage. They've left garbage piled up since before the first weekend of December for us to take out, and since my one tolerable roommate left before they did fully expecting them to take out their own trash, I wound up being the one to take out their nasty garbage.
Now, I know that I'm not the most... motivated person on the face of the planet, but at least I know when to do dishes and take out the garbage. I know when to clean up after myself. Too bad not all college students have to learn this lesson before living in apartments.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Not So Fa-la-la-la
As an update as to the present condition of my barely existent social life during this time of year, here's my latest post.
I wound up going to work last week, and for about four hours this past Monday. It's sad when you know that co-workers are seemingly sad to see you go, and you're honestly wishing that you didn't have to. For those of you who don't know, for the time being, I'm an office drone- I mean, office assistant. I file, copy, print, answer phones, etc. Now, for someone like me who should rarely be allowed around people outside of a classroom setting, this is a major sort of job. I shouldn't enjoy it as much as I do, but there is a sort of peace found in the repetitive nature of my job. One that has helped me through the past few months of living with insufferable roommates.
Now, at two in the morning, I find myself missing the job that I will occasionally rant about in person. I would normally be asleep right now, blissfully slumbering before class or work the next morning/afternoon. I'm not, and it's driving me crazy. I'm antsy and exhausted and numb all at once, if such a condition is possible. I'm wanting the life of waking up at 6 to be at work by 7:45. I'm wanting the life of the girl whose social life is currently on hiatus outside of hanging out with friends and the one co-worker who is just a year (if not less) older than I am.
Perhaps this is a sign that I should go to sleep. I don't know. When I'm tired as I am right now, I'm usually feeling more of an emotional drain. But then again, I've nothing to compare that drain to this week. With the exception of perhaps four people, I've not been around anyone this week. I've no sort of emotional overload since last week when stress levels were running high in the offices of my building.
Oh well. No more prattling on this night.
Good night to all who might come across this. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Yule, Kwanzaa, etc. I can't seem to remember all of the holidays that take place around this time of year, and I don't feel like offending anyone right now by getting everything wrong.
And also -- Happy New Year All!
I wound up going to work last week, and for about four hours this past Monday. It's sad when you know that co-workers are seemingly sad to see you go, and you're honestly wishing that you didn't have to. For those of you who don't know, for the time being, I'm an office drone- I mean, office assistant. I file, copy, print, answer phones, etc. Now, for someone like me who should rarely be allowed around people outside of a classroom setting, this is a major sort of job. I shouldn't enjoy it as much as I do, but there is a sort of peace found in the repetitive nature of my job. One that has helped me through the past few months of living with insufferable roommates.
Now, at two in the morning, I find myself missing the job that I will occasionally rant about in person. I would normally be asleep right now, blissfully slumbering before class or work the next morning/afternoon. I'm not, and it's driving me crazy. I'm antsy and exhausted and numb all at once, if such a condition is possible. I'm wanting the life of waking up at 6 to be at work by 7:45. I'm wanting the life of the girl whose social life is currently on hiatus outside of hanging out with friends and the one co-worker who is just a year (if not less) older than I am.
Perhaps this is a sign that I should go to sleep. I don't know. When I'm tired as I am right now, I'm usually feeling more of an emotional drain. But then again, I've nothing to compare that drain to this week. With the exception of perhaps four people, I've not been around anyone this week. I've no sort of emotional overload since last week when stress levels were running high in the offices of my building.
Oh well. No more prattling on this night.
Good night to all who might come across this. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Yule, Kwanzaa, etc. I can't seem to remember all of the holidays that take place around this time of year, and I don't feel like offending anyone right now by getting everything wrong.
And also -- Happy New Year All!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Still Haven't Learned
I think I'm starting to remember what it is like to be lonely. I know that the holidays inspire loneliness when one is not surrounded by familiar faces of loved ones, but this time it's different. Over a week and a half until Christmas, and I find myself missing those who I associate with. The neighbor and his girlfriend are here, so they're keeping me from going too crazy, but the old saying of "Two's company, three's a crowd," seems to be stabbing me in the guilt center of my emotional side.
I know that I'd probably have felt the same way if I'd gone home, or had planned on going home. I think I'm just being too affected by the quiet of my complex.
I've never been a big fan of silence. It always seems to be inspiring some sort of negative result, whether that result be letting my thoughts run rampant or just giving me nothing to distract from every little bit of self doubt that tap dances along my psyche. I always seem at my lowest when I'm anywhere that the sound level is little to none. Strange how it seems I'm incapable of tolerating too much noise. That might simply be due to the fact that I am the one who has to be controlling the noise.
I'm rambling. I know I am. I'm just in a quirked mood.
Until later, little ones.
I know that I'd probably have felt the same way if I'd gone home, or had planned on going home. I think I'm just being too affected by the quiet of my complex.
I've never been a big fan of silence. It always seems to be inspiring some sort of negative result, whether that result be letting my thoughts run rampant or just giving me nothing to distract from every little bit of self doubt that tap dances along my psyche. I always seem at my lowest when I'm anywhere that the sound level is little to none. Strange how it seems I'm incapable of tolerating too much noise. That might simply be due to the fact that I am the one who has to be controlling the noise.
I'm rambling. I know I am. I'm just in a quirked mood.
Until later, little ones.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Why?
Why is it so hard for a guy to understand that I don't masturbate? I don't get it. I lost count of the number of times that I said it last night, and all I got in return was "here's why you should." I've heard it all before. I honestly have no interest in it. I don't see anything wrong with anyone who does, so why should anyone see anything wrong with the fact that I don't?
Hell, why did he have to bring it up in the first place? I didn't care if he was sexually frustrated. I'm not a girlfriend. I'm not a fuck buddy. I'm the girl who talks to him. Now, I'm not even sure if I feel comfortable talking to him. I don't want to hurt his feelings, but I don't want to have to worry about whether or not I'm going to be getting questioned every few minutes about my own personal habits.
I'm sorry I don't get sexually frustrated easily. I'm sorry my sex drive is as controlled as it is.
You know what? I'm wrong. I'm not sorry for those things.
I'm sorry the guy was a horny bastard last night. I'm sorry his plans to get laid last night fell through. I'm not sorry for the fact that I am the way I am.
And this is why I'm seriously considering giving up guys altogether.
Hell, why did he have to bring it up in the first place? I didn't care if he was sexually frustrated. I'm not a girlfriend. I'm not a fuck buddy. I'm the girl who talks to him. Now, I'm not even sure if I feel comfortable talking to him. I don't want to hurt his feelings, but I don't want to have to worry about whether or not I'm going to be getting questioned every few minutes about my own personal habits.
I'm sorry I don't get sexually frustrated easily. I'm sorry my sex drive is as controlled as it is.
You know what? I'm wrong. I'm not sorry for those things.
I'm sorry the guy was a horny bastard last night. I'm sorry his plans to get laid last night fell through. I'm not sorry for the fact that I am the way I am.
And this is why I'm seriously considering giving up guys altogether.
Has it truly been so long?
Probably, I've pretty much ignored the blog route for a while, instead, I've been opting to kill myself with final exams and too much caffeine.
It was all worth it though. My grades for the classes I worried about were spectacular. Especially considering I'd not seen one of the letters as a sort of indicator of my academic success in a good two years. What can I say? When it comes to proper school work, I am lazy to the point that lazy doesn't cover it.
Anyways, this semester, my two craziest courses were Restoration and 18th Century Lit, a course in which the professor actually expected students to speak and be outgoing and the like, and Undergraduate research, which required a journal of 80+ entries or so as well as all of the stories and pieces that had been worked out throughout the semester. Well, listen here kiddies... In the end my journal had about 35, with a small letter of apology as to why it was so short, as well as three pieces (as is the norm), and an annotated bibliography that listed books that I'd not touched, ever.
I know I seem like the pinnacle of slackerdom with this, getting by with as little work as possible, but this is why I'm surprised. I've gotten myself accustomed to the idea of not doing much and getting by with something along the lines of a B to a D (mostly the first since these are my major courses after all). I'm wondering what happened that came out with me earning an A.
Not that I'm not excited. Don't get me wrong. This has me jumping for joy. Just surprised joy.
It was all worth it though. My grades for the classes I worried about were spectacular. Especially considering I'd not seen one of the letters as a sort of indicator of my academic success in a good two years. What can I say? When it comes to proper school work, I am lazy to the point that lazy doesn't cover it.
Anyways, this semester, my two craziest courses were Restoration and 18th Century Lit, a course in which the professor actually expected students to speak and be outgoing and the like, and Undergraduate research, which required a journal of 80+ entries or so as well as all of the stories and pieces that had been worked out throughout the semester. Well, listen here kiddies... In the end my journal had about 35, with a small letter of apology as to why it was so short, as well as three pieces (as is the norm), and an annotated bibliography that listed books that I'd not touched, ever.
I know I seem like the pinnacle of slackerdom with this, getting by with as little work as possible, but this is why I'm surprised. I've gotten myself accustomed to the idea of not doing much and getting by with something along the lines of a B to a D (mostly the first since these are my major courses after all). I'm wondering what happened that came out with me earning an A.
Not that I'm not excited. Don't get me wrong. This has me jumping for joy. Just surprised joy.
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