Language

I have a story due Tuesday for my fiction class. I told my independent study prof that I would write five pages before next Thursday, and I have half a book to read that was supposed to be done this past Thursday. I then have to start reading a new book. That's not even including or thinking about Victorian Lit--not to complain, just making it known that I will spend my weekend reading and writing.

I'm am now officially in a relationship. I'm actually feeling optimistic about it, but I guess only time will tell how it goes. Being in a relationship is good for me. It forces me to step outside of my comfort zone and compromise. Being independent is rather addicting. Relationships take practice. I'm glad to be in one.

Working on my memoir is proving to be great for my self-awareness. I've heard many writers talk about how people assume that writing about tough times is cathartic, but argue that it is hell. They talk about how painful it is to be forced to relive bad memories and spend time reflecting about them. I can understand that aspect, but as of now, I am writing about my childhood and family dynamics. It's proving to be very helpful in my understanding of where I fit in in my family and why I behave in the ways that I do. I feel lucky to be able to look at my history from the lens of a writer. It helps me make sense of my world. It's like my favorite quote from Ayn Rand, "Words are a lens to focus one's mind." What a gift language can be!

Good Morning, Gray Skies

I didn't sleep much at all last night. My eyes burn this morning as a result. I woke up earlier than I wanted to, and I didn't get half of the reading done that I should have. Needless to say, the gray skies are not my favorite thing to wake up to.

I went back to work this week. It has really complicated my schedule, but I am happy to be helping people with writing again and making some money. I'm determined to go see Laura for Spring Break, but with the way airfare to New Orleans is right now, it's not looking promising. I'm going to keep looking, though. The thought of not seeing her all semester long saddens me.

Work on the book is going okay. No huge progress, but enough new pages to turn in for my ind. study today.

I'm already looking forward to a nap when I finish classes at 3 today. What a way to start the day--already dreaming of a nap.

Untitled

I just spaced out for five minutes, trying to think of a title or point to this entry. There's not one, really. Just another way I can write without pressure or making any real progress on my book project. My independent study is incredible. I have some great ideas I should be working on for the chapter in progress. Yet, it almost feels like too much pressure for a Saturday. I keep rereading what I already wrote, and feel like nothing I think of is good enough to be written down. Last weekend, I had this same problem. I ran into my boss on Monday at the MLK Jr walk. She asked me how my ind. study was going, and I said the writing was not going as well as I'd hoped. Her response: "It never does. It always surprises you, though. That's just the nature of the writing process. Be patient with yourself." Simple, but fantastic advice. After, relaxing a bit, I cranked out nearly 6 pages before my meeting on Thursday. My ind. study prof is supportive, helpful, and just a great person to bounce ideas off of. I left my meeting with him on Thursday totally charged up to write. Unfortunately, I chose to take a nap instead, because I stayed up way too late Wednesday night with the new gentleman friend in my life. I've been hanging out with him almost every night. Tonight, I need to read, write, and read even more.

We saw "Black Swan" last night, and I loved it! I've loved Natalie Portman as an actress since I was a Star Wars nerd as a kid. She's one of the few stars who made a flawless transition both on and off the screen from child to adult actress. Sophomore year in college, when James' roommates were big into the "Gay/Straight Alliance" program up here at Central, they had a favorite game they liked to play while drinking, called "Who would you go gay/straight for?" If you were straight, you answered a celebrity of the same sex that you would love to go on a date with. If you were gay, you'd answer a celebrity of the opposite sex that you would want to go on a date with. It gets to be quite fun and funny when you have a variety of sexes and sexual orientations playing, because what happens is generally a lot of mass agreements or arguments, showing the complexity of sexuality. My answer was always Natalie Portman. She's Harvard educated, funny in interviews, capable of playing incredibly intense-serious roles, well-read, into art, and an advocate of human rights. Basically, who wouldn't want to be her or be with her? It's funny, because when we would play the game all of the guys and girls (gay or straight) would be like, "Oh yeah! That's a good one."

I've heard a lot of complaints about her recent choice to play in a romantic comedy alongside Ashton Kutcher. Everyone is like, "How can she be a Harvard educated woman, and then decide to play in such a shallow film?" I was on the same page at first, but the more I learn about the film, and with some of the interviews I've seen with her rationalizing her decision to play the role, I think it is awesome. She is showing her diverse capabilities as an actress and allowing herself to have fun and not take herself so seriously. Not to mention, the film plays with the idea of gender roles in relationships. I kind of forgot about how much I liked her for the past few years, because she hasn't done a lot of big projects. Plus, contrary to what this blog entry may look like, I'm not a creepy obsessive fan, so I had no idea what she was up to. Let's just say her performance in Black Swan and the interviews I heard with her about the film, reminded me how much I respect her. Hollywood is a tough industry to win over as a strong, independent woman. I admire the few women who pull it off. I think Tina Fey kicks ass in this department, too!

The movie was done by the same director who did "Requiem for a Dream." Black Swan had the same sort of thought-provoking, intense feeling. Although, I will say Requiem for a Dream was a little too intense for me. One of the characters reminded me a lot of the heroin addict I met in New Orleans years ago, and I was just too disturbed and depressed to get a glance into that lifestyle. Black Swan was still very intense, but it's the kind of intensity I enjoy, and I hope to buy it when it comes to DVD. I was really impressed by Mila Kunis (The girl from "That Seventies Show" and the voice of Meg on "Family Guy"). She proved to be much more complex than I had assumed. Of course, do we ever really know celebrities? I guess I shouldn't assume anything about any celebrities, but it's just the nature of being a celebrity, I think. You have to be aware that the roles you choose will be a part of the way you are judged. I don't agree with it, but it's just how our culture seems to work. I am certainly guilty of feeling like I know a celebrity (hence my tremendous respect for Natalie Portman, Tina Fey, and Ellen :) In reality, I know I don't know shit about them, but it's fun to pretend. This leads me to reflect more on the nature of celebrities in general. I'm taking a "Psychology of Women" class that is just making me an already more devout feminist than I already was. Maybe as the class continues, I will do a blog entry reflecting on celebrities and women... Wow, I need to stop rambling and try to write for real. Peace.

Dolphins, Unicorns, and Llamas

Those are my three favorite animals. I've been made fun of for including unicorns as an animal, but that's just the only way I know to categorize them. I suppose I could list them under majestical creature, but tomato/tomato--haha that doesn't work so well in writing.

I titled this blog with my three favorite animals because life is going well in many ways. My fiction class is going better than expected. Maybe I'm not so bad at creating characters, and my dialogue heavy writing style has been helpful in fiction. Turns out people have a really hard time creating dialogue. I get stuck sometimes if I create a character I don't know well enough, but I will say I'm pretty observant of other people's speech patterns for the most part. I contribute this skill to my love of one on one conversations. That is how you get to know a person the best, and there is so much to learn about him or her by what they are saying as well as the way they say it.

Non-fiction is also going well. I was stuck this weekend, so I thought about writing for three days in a row and only wrote one paragraph. I somehow surprised myself with five pages today. I went to send it to my professor, thinking I only had four pages, and when I copied and pasted the section into its own document, it took up nearly five pages. I'm going to try to add to that tonight before meeting with him tomorrow.

Social life is going well. I miss Leslie, Laura, and Emily a great deal. My schedule is so mellow without them. The good thing, I met someone new and went to dinner with him Monday night. We are hanging out again this evening. He is a graduate student studying Public Administration, so he has like a bunch of economics and business type classes. Definitely not the kind of guy I saw myself going for, but so far things are going great. Can I make that statement after only one date?

I don't like to blog much about my dating life, but I will say I am optimistic about my relationship with this guy whatever that may entail. I haven't felt this excited to hang out with anybody I've considered dating in a long time. I don't even remember the last time. My therapist called me out on the fact that I was trying to deny my excitement to appear in control. I tried to be realistic and not get too excited since it's so early, but she was like, "the poor guy won't know how to read you. It's good to show you're excited." I'm allowing myself for the first time to just enjoy being excited to hang out with someone and try not to worry about what the future may hold.

Tomorrow is already Thursday. My, how fast the weeks go when I don't have to work. The days are much more mellow. Work starts in full swing Monday. My Tuesdays are going to be a challenge. It's nice to get it out of the way earlier in the week, though. I will miss being able to chat with Laura on and off again all day. Speaking of Laura, the one nice thing about starting work again is that I will be making money. I need to save up to go see Laura for Spring Break. The nice weather down there and hanging out with her is great for my mental health. I need that to divide my semester in half.

I participated in the MLK Jr walk on Monday. It was absolutely incredible. I will blog about that when my friend sends me the pictures. I'd like to be able to post pictures with the description because it was such a powerful experience that helped me have some faith in humanity. I'm going to stop procrastinating and get to my creative writing. Blogging's kind of a nice warm up :)

MLK Jr Day

Happy Martin Luther King Jr day! It is nice to have the day off classes to celebrate one person who initiated big change peacefully. So often we forget about peaceful revolutions. I've heard people criticize King for his personal life, saying he doesn't deserve a day. My response is: sure, a lot more peaceful people deserve days to be honored, but let's not let that keep us from celebrating the one peaceful revolutionist who does have a day.

Also, today is meant to celebrate all that he accomplished. It does not mean that he was a saint or even the best human being to walk the planet, but let's not let his faults overshadow his revolutionary changes on a day meant to celebrate peace and justice winning over apathy and hate. I think people who bring his faults up on this day are afraid of someone making such radical changes through peace like he did. It's easier to write off his accomplishments, because it makes us feel better about ourselves. It allows us to feel comfortable in our apathy and lack of motivation to make change. MLK Jr was a man who did not stop when others told him it was impossible. He not only had tremendous amounts of faith in humanity, but he had passion and courage that most people can't even dream to have.

Sometimes I feel pessimistic about the lack of change I see around me. I have so many passionate, idealistic friends. We fight so hard, and I often wonder what difference do we really make? I still hear racist, sexist, and homophobic comments on a pretty regular basis. Yet, on a day like today, I am reminded that one person can make a difference. It's like that JFK quote that is actually hanging on a poster right next to me as I type this (thanks Leslie) "One person can make a difference and every person should try." I miss the younger me who was so involved in social justice issues. I must say I've gotten a lot more selfish as I age, and I think that's because I am still trying to take care of my own mental health before I can help others. I hope that I will one day be able to make change through my writing. Maybe I can use these mental health struggles as a way to connect to people who feel disconnected.

I woke up today and did laundry. It's a pretty simple way to start the day, but it left me feeling optimistic for what I might accomplish today. I didn't put two and two together that it is MLK jr day and I'm feeling optimistic. I don't think that's a coincidence. Today is a day where optimism wins, peace conquers violence, love conquers hate, and justice shines on. Today I will reflect on how I have, can, and will make a difference. I hope you might do the same, friend.

Ginger Peach Tea Bag Soaks Paper Cup

I'm at my favorite coffee shop. It's just a couple blocks from my apartment, and I tend to write best here. Today, I'm here with Tammy, and I have accomplished nothing in the couple of hours we have been here. I have a mug from here that I can refill with tea for $1 each visit. Unfortunately, over Christmas it got separated. The bottom part of the mug is at my parents' house and the top is at Leslie's house (it's a long story). Therefore, today I paid full price for my tea and had to get one of those wasteful paper cups with a plastic lid. Now, all that remains is the soggy tea bag, slowly soaking into the paper cup. It's so much more exciting when I can watch the steam swirl above it. Now, it just sort of feels dead...so much for inspiration.

Last night I wasn't feeling well, so I went to bed at 10. I slept all day too. I think it was just a headache mixed with my acid reflux, which has been causing a terrible cough, heartburn, and stomach issues. I have started taking medicine again for it, but I think I might have to start altering my diet, which would be tragic, because all of my favorite things are bad for acid reflux: chocolate, tea, pizza, pop, and beer. How would I survive?

It's weird not living with Leslie. I think this weekend will be typical of what my average weekends will look like: I go out Thursday night, and then do nothing the rest of the weekend. I must say it's a little lonely, but will be good for my reading and writing. I have a lot of both to do this semester. My independent study is going to really push me. To be honest, it will be pretty flexible, and I think if it got to be too much, I could tell my professor. Yet, never again will I get to have this one-on-one sort of structure with deadlines to force me to write my book. I not only want to live up to the expectations, but I want to exceed them.

My professor gave me a line to start this week's draft with after my conversation with him about where to go next with my book. I shall begin with something along the lines of, "When I was a child, I believed I was supposed to be a saint." I will then use this to explore both my mental health problems that may have been influenced by such beliefs and my spiritual journey. I hope to use humor in this book despite it's serious nature. I went to a panel at AWP with one of my favorite writers (Marya Hornbacher) called "Sick Humor." They emphasized the importance of using humor while writing about illness, so it doesn't look like you're seeking pity or anything of the sort. I also want to do some humorous writing for my fiction class. That's the kind of writing I excelled at in High School. I don't know when I got so serious. I think once I got brave enough to write about serious issues, I looked at writing humor as something more shallow--which is definitely not true. I just needed to experience both sides to further develop my humorous writing. My first fictional story is already pretty serious with the exception of a couple smart-ass remarks. I guess, we will see where this semester takes me as a writer and a person. I can't believe it's my last one.

Aging Friendships

I am having a hard time with the evolution of friendships. All of my friends are growing up, moving on with their lives. I have friends all over the country (world even, in some cases). Everyone is at the stage in their life where they are establishing roots in different places with different people. I'm not very good at moving on. In reality, I have made several new friends over the years, but I've let very few friends go. I don't forget people easily. I've always felt like I love people more than they love me. I guess, I assume I'm overly dependent on people. This is probably not true. It's just a part of my distorted, overly sensitive thinking.

It just seems that everything has changed so fast and all at once. Friends moving across the country, developing serious relationships that consume their lives. Even my friends around MI are getting careers, coupling off. Friends are having kids that are their new priority. They all have much less time to sit around and talk about meaningful things. They have less time to return phone calls, respond to e-mails, or even facebook a hello from time to time. I know my friends still love me and I love them. It's just heartbreaking to think that at one time I thought I couldn't live without these people, and now, I am barely a part of their life. That scares me. I think about the close friends I need in my life right now and fear what is in our future. It's emotionally draining to put so much effort into friendships, and it seems the older I get, the more effort it takes to receive half of the benefits.

Sister Pat is 74-years-old. She told me she loves being that age, because everyone in her life is without a doubt a real friend. She doesn't have to worry about friendships fading, because if they have lasted this long, then they're bound to last forever. However, then of course, one has to worry about death of close friends. Life seems so cruel in the sense that everyone you feel that is essential to life will die if you don't die first. That's a little disheartening. The memoir I just finished was about two women with an intense friendship similar to my friendship with Laura. The one friend died, and I nearly broke down in the library. I can't imagine the pain of living without the people I need in my life. I've experienced some death in my life, and grieved for loved ones. I understand that the pain never goes away, but it somehow heals a bit. That person is always a part of your life, though, and I guess that's pretty powerful to think we impact each other so much. Yet, the idea of having to live without the physical presence of people who give me reasons for living is almost too much for me to even think about.

Maybe it's too much for most people to think about, which is why there is so much death anxiety around us. Most people on the surface-level don't believe they think about death that often or that they are that afraid of it. I took a class on death and dying though, and we discussed how death anxiety impacts our daily actions. It's incredible the way our subconscious has so much power and our drive to live as human beings is so strong.

Are friendships better with age? I have to believe they are, because they are stronger and more reliable. Yet, there is so much struggle and sacrifice to maintain smaller bits of a friendship with time. It seems like the older I get, the better I have to become at saying goodbye. I miss people the most when I am with them and reminded how much I benefit from their presence in my life. Then they are ripped away from me again. Do we become more callused to goodbyes as we age? I can't imagine each goodbye continuing to hurt so badly. I feel like I'm better at shaking it off than I used to be, but it still breaks my heart every time. I guess, all I can do is be thankful to have so many wonderful people in my life, and still accept the loneliness and sadness that comes along with joy of loving someone.

First Day of Classes

Classes start today. I don't have class until 3:30. My schedule has the potential to be incredibly stressful and maddening, or it might be good for me as both a person and writer. I'm hoping it's the second option, of course.

I had a wonderful time down South. I forgot how great Laura and I get along and how much better the sunshine can make me feel. I am feeling down again now that I am back in MI, but I was at least reminded I can be healthy.

I'm reading a wonderful memoir by Gail Caldwell called Let's Take the Long Way Home. Laura gave it to me for Christmas. It is a memoir about two women with a very intense, life-changing friendship. It has been helpful, because I have told her many times we don't have a lot of models for our friendship. Outsiders all form their own opinions, but it doesn't seem to accurately define our relationship. The book is beautifully written, but I connect a little too much with the writer. She's one of those permanently single writers that casually dates, but never gets attached to anyone. I fear that will be my future. It doesn't help that I talked to my ex-boyfriend and he sounds really happy with a new girlfriend. I really am happy for him. She sounds wonderful, and I am glad that he is moving on with his life. However, I couldn't help but think, "There's another great guy I let go. Will I ever find someone or will I be alone forever?" I think that I will probably be alone forever. For some reason that makes people uncomfortable in our society.

My therapist continuously reminds me that writers do not live ordinary lives, and that I need to accept that I am different than most and just live my life instead of worrying what it looks like to outsiders. It's hard because I was raised to believe what other people believe is more important and more valid than what I do. Image is very big in my family. I wasn't a toddler in a tiara for no reason, as my therapist teases. I learned very young how to get what I want by acting in ways that people liked. I take a sick sort of pride in the way I can win most people over. I am slowly unlearning this sick pushover behavior and learning to be myself. People can take it or leave it. It's much easier said than done.

Reflection on Family

Arguing via blog can be petty. No one really wants to read people attack each other while hiding behind computers. I think a well-handled open-dialogue is always a good answer. Both the benefit and the problem with blogging: it's your blog. You can say what you want. I made the choice to read my brother's blog about his time spent at home. I knew it wouldn't be pleasant. I respect his right to express his feelings on his experience, but I disagree with a lot of what he had to say, as well as the way it was said.

The point of a reflection is to seek truth. Loving creative non-fiction the way that I do, I think reflections are essential to a healthy lifestyle. I love reading other reflections and writing my own. Reflections are supposed to help us question ourselves--our motives, our behaviors, our feelings, how we impact the people and world around us, and in return, how we are impacted by them.

That being said, I was slightly offended by my brother's reflection on our family dynamics. He is entitled to write reflections on his blog. If I felt that his blog entry contained more depth, maturity, and wisdom, I would not be offended by how he perceives things. I would respect his honesty, even if it made me look bad and hurt my feelings a little. I, of all people, understand the importance of truth in writing. In fact, I fear how my family and friends will respond to my own reflections in my eventual memoir. The difference between the plan for my book and my brother's reflection is that mine will not be written out of anger. I know he wrote what he believed to be true, but that's not enough. He was blinded by anger and approached things from a very simplistic perspective.

He criticized our family's boring, surface-level conversations. Most families that I know, or friends of mine who talk about their family dynamics, have simplistic dialogue. Family is not the same as friends. You do not choose these people. The truth is, a family consists of a lot of people of all ages with too many different interests to mention. It is often a challenge to connect with family in a deeper way for this reason. If this is the case, why do we return to our families so regularly? It's about staying grounded. Being reminded where you come from. My sister and I probably would not have hung around each other in High School. We approached high school very differently ( her way being much healthier). Yet, seeing her reminds me of certain traits we share. My cousin and I grew up as best friends. We eventually drifted apart. She has a kid, works for a living, and I went the college route. We have little to talk about anymore, but I still love seeing her and her son. It helps me reflect on some of the experiences I shared with her that helped make me who I am. Family is also a bit of a reality check. A friend of mine once told me that despite having a professional job, her family treated her like a child. She wanted to say, "Hey, do you know that people actually take me seriously?!"

All jokes aside, it is hard for family members to adjust to changes. My family still wants to see me as the always smiling over-achieving adolescent that I was. I want to see my parents as all-knowing, my sister as little and my brother as wiser. That's not reality. Being a member of a family is about accepting truth--throwing aside delusions of how things should be, and embracing for a moment what they are.

My brother says our family has shared delusions of what makes a family, but what kind of delusion is he under? Does he expect our parents to be college professors and his sisters to be strictly intellectuals? The truth is, families like that are not even as good as they sound. Just like they say psychologists can be some of the worst parents. I still am working to readjust the way I view my childhood and my family members. It's tricky not to get stuck in my childhood ways and look to my parents for advice, even though in a lot of situations they can't give me a right or wrong answer. I still seek validation from them. That is unhealthy, and I am working to grow up and take responsibility for my own thoughts. Should I blame them for making me insecure and needing their assurance for everything? Sometimes I felt put down or embarrassed of mistakes, so I learned quickly how to give them responsibility and control of my life. I think that sort of pain and resentment can be approached with dignity. I understand that we are not the kind of family where we can talk about errors of the past. It is incredibly hard for me to stay healthy in an environment where anxiety rules the house and anger is uncontrolled at times.

My brother is right; we are all self-absorbed, but that's the nature of being human. We evolved to take care of ourselves. This returns to his argument from years ago that volunteers are greedy because they make themselves feel better by using people who need help. That IS why people volunteer, but guess what? Everyone wins: the volunteers and the people receiving the services. I have been helped by volunteers on many occasions and I have helped others as a volunteer on just as many. I think self-absorption is normal. It is only the wise who seek to listen better, care more about other people, be less self-absorbed.

Sure, depression is a type of self-absorption, but it is a sickness as well. I was disappointed in the way that my brother said I "have been crippled in more ways than [I] know," called our entire family self-absorbed, and referred to me as a patient that he "failed." I have never and will never be a patient to him. I will always be his sister who saw him grow up, experienced a similar childhood, and watched him struggle and rebound many times. I do not look for him to save me. I don't really ask anything of him except for him to listen and maybe sometimes validate things from our childhood. I have a therapist. I don't need his biased psycho-analyzation of me.

Spending limited time with him over the holidays and reading his blog has reminded me that he does not listen objectively. He asserts many things about me, like he knows me better than I know myself because I am so repressed. For years, he has told me that he believes my depression is because I am a repressed lesbian. I am not against this idea. In fact, I have spent the last couple of years trying to be really open to such an idea. The truth: I connect best with women, but the idea of being sexual with one is not appealing to me in this moment. I am not closed off to the idea that maybe one day I will meet a woman I fall in love with. I don't ever want this to be an "I told you so" sort of thing. I am just saying, as of now, I like guys. I have a problem being emotionally connected with them, which is why I have a lot of flings instead of relationships. The truth is he knows next to nothing about my dating experiences. Whatever, maybe one day, I will decide to date a woman. Until then, I'm going to continue dating guys and trying to make sex and relationship stability coexist.

Lastly, I want to address the fact that he claimed he had the worst experiences growing up (out of my siblings) and handled them best. Maybe he is right, but both are subjective. He had a rough time, but at least he had the fact that he was male and anger was an acceptable form of rebelling for him. He was able to use his anger to hurt those hurting him and protect himself in ways that I did not. Plus, we all experience things differently. Who is he to pretend to understand or compare his hardships with anyone else? Being a child is to be vulnerable. Everyone experiences being wronged as a child and not having the skills to understand that they are not being treated properly. Growing up has a sort of jadedness and pain to it. As of now, I am not going to publicly address how I feel about events in my childhood. I will say that it was not perfect and that it sometimes reacts with my chemical imbalance to cause even more severe depression. However, I am not downright blaming my parents and I believe they did and always will love me. I am thankful for that.

Postcard from the Deep South

I'm in Southern Louisiana. The weather is gross today, but I'll take wearing a hooded sweatshirt any day instead of having to wear a winter jacket. I can tolerate the rain. It is supposed to clear up tomorrow and Friday, so we are planning to do fun outdoor activities then. Today, I think we are going to return to New Orleans to shop and take pics. Then, we will leave when it gets dark (the city is not the safest place at night) and drive back to hangout at a coworker's place.

I am feeling much better. I think it's a combination of being away from home, the sunny weather, and the excitement of a road trip. Regardless, I called and set up an appointment with my psychiatrist for when I return. I'm proud of my progress.

New Year

I've been away for a while. It got to the point where I decided I would wait until the New Year to start blogging again. So here it is: January 1, 2011... A lot has changed since last year. A lot has changed since I last wrote--yet, in some weird way, I feel like I had the least amount of change this year compared to others. I had a pretty ordinary year, which is actually excellent. No major breakdowns or anything of that sort. Stayed pretty healthy--having ups and downs, of course. Overall, it was probably the most stable year I've had.

Last night, we were supposed to have people over to our apartment. Plans fell through, and it ended up being just Tammy, Laura, and me. We had a lot of fun. We played Scrabble Slam, toasted with one beer at midnight, ate lots of cheese dip, and watched a crazy movie. It was pretty quiet (minus my neighbors in the apartment above me blasting music and shouting). It was a very peaceful way to bring in the New Year. I wonder where I will be next year at this time.

For those of you who don't know, I am going to move into an assisted living home for nuns in the fall. They will house and feed me in exchange for me planning some activities for the sisters and filling in for an occasional dishwasher. I'm going to use this time to (hopefully) complete a solid first draft of a manuscript for my memoir. I have about 27 pages already completed. I am responsible for producing 50 more this semester in my ind. study class for the book project. If I can write every day like it's my job, I think completing a rough manuscript is a realistic goal. I had intended on staying with the sisters for the length of a school year (September-April or May). I do not know that I will be able to last that long without driving myself crazy. Every day is the same: breakfast, daily mass, lunch, dinner. Everything else is free time. It will be very important to establish a strict writing schedule, because it will be tempting to "tool around" as my friend Emily says. Not to mention, I can sleep all day. Sleeping is much easier than writing, and let's face it: I'm by nature looking for what's easiest. I will have to push pass the laziness and remind myself that writing will be my job. I will need to do it everyday. Although, I might allow myself to take Saturday and/or Sunday off each week.

My memoir will be about my struggle with both depression and spirituality. I have quite a few unique experiences that I think have given me different take on things. Maybe it's self-centered to think people want to read about my life or thoughts, but I know I like reading other people's memoirs. I think we can learn about ourselves through other people's struggles.

I think I need another medicine adjustment. I have been struggling to get by again lately. I think it's a combination of the fact that the doctor and I agreed to stop taking one of my medications, the stress of exams and then the holidays, and just a whole being burnt out phase. I'm feeling a little better since returning to school and with the optimism of a new year. I leave bright and early tomorrow morning (like 5am) to drive to Kentucky with Laura. She has a friend in Kentucky we will spend the day with, spend the night at his place, and then prepare for 11 more hours of driving to reach our final destination in Louisiana. I will fly home in a week. I hope everything goes okay. I will be thrown right back into school when I return, so I hope I get the medication thing sorted out. I don't want to feel defeated before I even begin my classes. This is my last semester, and I want to make the most of it.

It is gray and very windy here. It is snowing, and the flakes are flying horizontally in the wind. I am sad that this next semester two of my roommates will be gone, my friend Emily is moving home to Minnesota, and Laura will still be gone. That's the majority of my friends. Tammy will still be here, but she has to work a lot, so I will not get to see her as often as I would like. It will force me to really concentrate on my book, I think.

I want to say that my New Year's resolution is to blog more. I've already had several people request I keep a blog next year while with the nuns. I know how the semester gets, though, and how apathetic I can be when it comes to feeling like the world needs to know anything about me. I don't want to make a resolution I won't really work at. So I guess, if I blog more, cool. If not, nothing's new. You'll still get occasional updates :)