Controlled Chaos

Family Life

2011-08-23T23:01:00.004-04:00

I'm thinking about family dynamics a lot lately. Therapy forced me to look at my own family and look at the roles and responsibilities each person holds in order to make the group function. We establish our roles in a family early on. It's interesting that no matter how much we all change individually, it is more comfortable to regress to our comfort zones as a community.

My brother, Adam, came home this past weekend. We attended a wedding as a family where I got to observe other families interact with my own. When my entire family is together, I notice the complex dynamics that come out in such simple ways. For example, all five of us were in one hotel room with only one bed. Everyone's complaints about one another or ways of coping with the situation said a lot about each of us. It also reminded me what an introvert I am and had me needing quiet. We went straight from the wedding and dropping Adam off at the airport to a family reunion, which really brought out reflections on family dynamics.

Family keeps us humble. When I see a lot of my distant relatives, I cannot connect with them. I think how I would have nothing to do with them in the real world if it weren't for our genetic connection. I'm not saying this to sound like different is bad. I just noticed how different our lives were and how we value such opposite things, and I felt amazed to think that something as simple as sharing some genetic makeup keeps us in each other's lives.

I had the privilege of meeting up with some friends in DC where we compared our family systems and what sort of issues threaten and/or change those dynamics. It's interesting to hear about all of the different issues families deal with. For example, I have friends who have really strained familial relationships, but because they are family, they strive to maintain some sort of connection. I think there's something animalistic and instinctual about maintaining contact with those who share our genetic makeup and/or backgrounds. Like, I've always marveled at the relationships between siblings and how no one knows your background better than your siblings. No one understands talk about your parents better than your siblings. I mean there's just a powerful bond that keeps me needing to be close to my siblings as both friends and family members.

This is straying from my original thoughts, but I'm rather apathetic. I don't want to retrace my thoughts or put effort into constructing a masterpiece. This is my blog, and I can write whatever I want. Stream of consciousness is just what I needed to write tonight.

Life slips by like a field mouse...

2011-08-13T22:11:00.003-04:00

And the days are not full enough

By Ezra Pound

And the days are not full enough

And the nights are not full enough

And life slips by like a field mouse

Not shaking the grass

This has been a favorite poem of mine since I discovered it in ninth grade. I chose it because it was short, simple, and powerful. I didn't even know who Ezra Pound was, and I had little experience understanding poetry. It's amazing that at least 8 years later, it still packs just as much punch, if not more. I love how song lyrics, poems, or even words of advice can stick with us and become deeper and more meaningful with time and wisdom. This poem came to mind today, because I felt happy a couple of times. It was one of those rare moments where I could look past the complaints that come along with being human, and just exist in peace. I saw dolphins this morning. They are mystical creatures with so much emotional depth. The more I learn about them, the more I love them. I loved them as a child, but it is another example of having an even deeper respect for them now that I'm older and know more about them and their capacity to feel emotions we've deemed human.

When I was having these "peak moments," I thought about how this is life. It started with me thinking the sky looked heavenly, and how I don't really believe in a literal heaven, but that I believe these moments of peace and beauty on Earth can be our own experiences of heaven. Then I realized, these little moments are what we live for. We work, we struggle, we go through the motions just to have a few moments of peace and joy every now and then. Don't get me wrong, I think those moments are miraculous and totally worth earning, but there's just something so sublime about contemplating our own existence.

I also reflected back on circles in my life because I had a moment that reminded me of S. Dakota. I remember being blown away and excited on my first trip when my eyes were opened to circles in every aspect of our lives. Later, in my freshman year of college, I remember saying to April (who I met on my first trip to S Dakota) that life's circularity was depressing, and I was sick of going in circles. She talked about how going in circles doesn't have to be depressing, because we come back to these "markers" (such as seasons, holidays, birthdays, etc...) with new wisdom and perspective, and that we can use them as tools to self-evaluate. I've thought about both the depressing side and optimistic side of circles, and I've decided it's a little bit of both. I'm leaning more toward the optimistic side lately, though.

I'm visiting Laura in NC. I went nearly 6 months without seeing her, which felt far too long. I have a familial relationship with her, where I've gotten used to relying on her. It's hard because her job is so demanding and our lives are going different ways, so it gets harder and harder to be there all the time for each other. We do a solid job of maintaining a strong friendship, but I'm sure her time in a PhD program and my time with the nuns will force us both to do some independent soul searching, and I realize we might not end up in the exact same place. It's hard to imagine, and we both fear a day we are not as close of friends. I think we can continue to be close friends forever, but I think the nature of growing up is that we all have to develop our own lives. That reminds me of a quote I saw today in a gift shop here--it was something about life isn't about finding yourself, but instead about creating yourself. I think that's pretty empowering. We have complete control over who we choose to be. Sure, some of our personalities are from genetics and past experiences, but having the power to change for the better is encouraging.

Good Times

2011-08-01T19:04:00.007-04:00

Life is good these days. I had a blast at Alicia's bachelorette party on Saturday. I was a little worried about such a large group getting together and drinking too much, but there was next to no drama, and everyone had fun. We met lots of new friends throughout the night. Strangers bought Alicia drinks. There were many highlights of the evening, but I think my favorite memory is the one we call "The Great Fall of Leslie." A few girls from our group along with some new friends they met were kareokeing to "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Leslie had been harassing the DJ, asking when it was going to be their turn, but she was in the bathroom when he finally played it. All of the sudden, I see Leslie sprinting out of the bathroom and leaping onto the stage, where she fell flat on her face. Everyone stopped singing, and the entire bar stared. Leslie popped up instantly like a Jack-in-the-box and snatched the mic from one of the girls and started singing along. What made it funnier was that her voice was hoarse from yelling all night, so she had this old smoker's voice going on. We had a blast laughing about that one that night and the next day.

I had the strangest dream last night. It involved the most random group of people: former profs, one of my favorite writers, April, Evan, Silvio, coworkers from The Writing Center and my summer school program, and then some girls who lived in my dorm freshman year whose names I can't even remember. It involved this new dictator in California trying to kill infants with bumblebees to produce some sort of new energy source, my favorite writer coming into a writing class of mine, a talent show with other profs, and then my neighbor from across the street. I don't know what on earth that could mean. Probably just one of those "cleaning out the cobwebs" in my head dreams.

I came up with a question for my favorite writer in this dream, and now I really would like to ask her or someone else who writes personal memoir. I asked her if you ever get used to people asking you about these intensely personal moments we choose to write about, and if you ever develop some sort of protective layer or does it make you feel vulnerable every time. She's been writing about personal issues since she was 23, and she is now in her mid to late thirties, so I figured she would know how to separate work/writing from herself. Although, maybe that's just part of the job description as a memoirist--being okay with being vulnerable if we are in control, I guess?

This is my last week of work. The kids are getting restless, and I'm getting tired. I will miss the kids greatly, so in that sense, I am not ready to be done. I am tired though and ready to look to the future (aka get back into writing and moving in with the nuns) after I have some time for myself and get to visit Laura. I haven't seen her since like my birthday, so that's just too long. It's gonna be 5, almost 6 months since I've seen her when I finally arrive in NC. We've never been apart that long. Crazy how quickly you get used to someone being three blocks away, but how slowly you adjust to them being far away.

Heat Wave

2011-07-21T18:35:00.010-04:00

It's been in the mid to upper nineties all week. The school I work in doesn't have air conditioning, and it seems to get hotter than outside because there is no breeze. We have fans, but they don't seem to do much in this intense weather. I sweat through my clothes pretty early on. Today, in order to escape the afternoon heat, we took a field trip to see "Cars 2." It was cute. My kids were so excited to go, but then when we were there, they all complained of being tired (we went during their nap time) and couldn't sit still. They seemed to like the movie, but they have short attention spans, and some of the humor was over their heads.

I took an adorable picture of some of the kids wearing hats. My coworker found a bunch of baseball caps at garage sales, so everyone in my class got one. They wore them sideways like little thugs or punks, and it made me laugh. They are so sweet. They all can drive me nuts, but they also have a way of melting my heart when they give me a hug at a random moment. It's always such a pleasant surprise that they just get unplanned urges to give me a hug. I even smile when it's one of the trouble makers who test my patience more times than they do not. Sometimes I have to be cold with them in order to get them to listen, and it makes me feel better that they still want to give me hugs even after I had to scold them.

Last week, some of the kids were not participating in gym. I told them they needed to at least try, but then they started picking flowers. They pick little flowers in the grass for me regularly, so I had a suspicion they would try to give it to me. I asked them not to pick flowers, but they didn't listen. Finally, I said, "If you pick that flower, I can't take it because you're supposed to be playing kickball." Of course, they try to test me, so they gave me the flowers. I had to keep my arms folded and refuse to accept them. It broke my heart to have to reject their thoughtfulness and kind gesture, but they are always testing the boundaries, trying to see what they can get away with. They know they can get away with more when they are with me as opposed to the other two women in my classroom. There's a few who refuse to listen to me unless I yell. I don't like yelling at the kids. It makes me sad, but I can't let them be out of control either, or they will have even more trouble during the school year. It's sad to know many of my kids will only continue the cycle, but a few always give me hope. I hope several of them get to attend college and do something different with their lives. They are such good kids born into unfair circumstances.

At the movie theater today, one of the kids was excited about the automatic paper-towel-dispenser. He said, "All I had to do was wave 'hi' to it, and it gave me paper all by itself." I smiled even though he was supposed to be standing quietly in line. It just seems so sweet to think of waving your hand in front of a motion sensor as waving, "hi." The kids give me a fresh perspective every now and then, in addition to keeping me from being too serious.

I've been reflecting on how serious my family and I can be, but how I'm still drawn to comedy. There was a period in my life where I was obsessed with Saturday Night Live. I read everything I could about the writers and performers from different eras. I started getting interested in improv comedy and how a lot of the performers and writers came from improv groups. I dreamed of doing improv comedy, and I even considered joining the improv group my first year of college. I realized I just wasn't meant to be a performer, but in another life I could see myself doing something like that.

My love for comedy was set on the back burner for a while due to my love for social justice, experiencing depressions, and then school. Since I got netflix, I'm getting back into watching standup. Standup is really hit or miss with me. I don't like to think I'm offended easily, but I suppose by some standards I am. I don't think it's overly sensitive to not laugh at issues that hurt people. I think it's just common decency. A lot of the standup on TV is shallow and offensive, so I'm enjoying being reminded that I do have a sense of humor. There's plenty of smart, good standup out there.

Also, I read Tina Fey's book recently and then went to see "Bridesmaids," which is starring and cowritten by Kristen Wiig. Both the book and the movie kept me laughing out loud, reminding me I'm not "too serious," like I sometimes feel. I have a sense of humor; it just might not be the most conventional. I think being an activist, people accuse us of not having a sense of humor or say we need to "lighten up." For example, I've heard a lot of people criticize Ashley Judd for being so intense now that her book is out and she is on twitter, often posting about social justice facts. I think she is often portrayed as very serious, because she deals with a lot of serious issues, not to mention she has studied women studies and understands the implications of the sexist language in the media, so she refuses to tolerate it. Yet, I heard her mention in an interview how the world is such a serious place, it's important we look to laughter and humor to keep sane. I know a lot of activists who think like that. There was a wonderful reflection about what sort of boundaries should be in comedy written in SALON magazine. If you have a minute:

http://www.salon.com/entertainment/tv/feature/2011/06/28/go_the_f_to_sleep_tracy_morgan_updates

I'm updating my ipod as I write this for the first time since my harddrive crashed. I finally restored most my music and decided it was safe to do so. After it is updated, I will listen to my new music while I'm upstairs looking for my camera in a bunch of boxes. We'll see how that goes, but I need it for the many events I have coming in the next month!

This moved me

2011-07-14T21:10:00.001-04:00

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/07/14/humpback-whale-video_n_898859.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000008

Forced Update #2

2011-07-13T21:29:00.002-04:00

Again, I have no desire to blog or any idea about what I will say. I'm sunburned and tired from spending a day in the sun at a lake traveling fast speeds. I learned how to drive a jet ski, got up to over 50 mph on a few different occasions. It's nice to be reminded my anxiety doesn't control me as much as I think it does somedays. Tubing behind the jet ski was exhausting. My entire body is sore.

I'm having trouble getting motivated to study for my exam coming up next week. I just don't value standardized tests. I've been let down by them far too many times, so I learned that I can't let them tell me about my intelligence level. A lot of creative people I know have similar experiences. That's probably why so many of the top MFA programs do not require the GRE. Although, I want to apply to as many schools as possible so that I have a better chance of receiving funding. I don't want something as trivial as a standardized test score to keep them from giving my writing a chance.

I broke a giant leaf off my aloe plant to rub on my sunburn. That thing is a monster. My mom suggests getting rid of it, or breaking a bunch of it off because it's out of control. I agree that I have to do something. I can't just let it take over the house, but I'm sentimental about it. It seems metaphorical of my healing. It's not like I fear that I will regress if we cut down or get rid of the plant, but it's nice to see a medicinal plant just thriving like that. Reminds me how far I've come.

This entry is boring me, so I'm sure it's boring to read. I just don't have much to say these days. I'll get my writing spirit back, I'm sure. I just need a break sometimes. Thanks for reading.

Forced Update

2011-07-06T21:33:00.005-04:00

I haven't felt like updating. I still don't. Working all day in an un-airconditioned school, studying for the GRE, sleep problems, and trying to maintain somewhat of a social life has left me feeling inadequate or just too apathetic to play with words most nights. Speaking of words, studying for the GRE is expanding my vocab, and I kind of like it when I actually sit down and do it. I have not put enough time into it and that needs to change soon.

I love my kids from work. They really give me a reason to live. Now that I'm healthy, I have many reasons to live, but these kids are the most obvious one that slap me in the face via hugs every day. All I have to do is love these kids, and they think I'm like the greatest person in the world. They adore me and even need me. It is such a privilege to be able to work with such loving kids every day. How many people get--literally--tens of hugs every day. I can't count how many I receive. Yesterday, Mom and I went shopping. She purchased clothes and shoes for several of my students, and I wish she could see their faces when they get them. The one girl's shoes were too small, so Mom bought her an entire size bigger. We had to exchange those today, because even those were too small. She was wearing shoes a size and a half too small! Imagine how sore her little feet must be. I can't even imagine.

I'm back into Marya Hornbacher's book, Waiting. I think it's just the tip of the iceberg in a new style of writing about spirituality for non-believers. There's all sorts of non-traditional spirituality books, but I love that this is only about inner love and wisdom within us and within others that we can find by better connecting to ourselves and others. It focuses on approaching AA as a nonbeliever, but I am excited to keep working on my memoir that will fit in that sort of category. Hers is insightful, and I think she's really onto something that will catch on.

I went camping this past weekend with some friends. My family ended up joining us for a day at the beach and grilling out. It was a lovely surprise, considering I had little expectations for the weekend. We also cooked out at Grandma's on Monday. It was very nice, but I couldn't stay awake. I'd been having trouble sleeping and then slept even less while camping. I napped most of my time there. That Casey Anthony trial was playing on the TV while I slept. It gave me awful nightmares. I hate watching stuff like that. I couldn't stop thinking about it until I went to work the next day, and the little ones took my mind off such violence and suffering. I'm terrified by murder, even more so by people who are capable of committing such acts. I didn't know how to feel about the verdict, because I don't believe in the death penalty. I didn't want the young woman to be sentenced to death, but after witnessing all of the inconsistencies and apathy toward the death of her daughter, it was clear she has sociopathic tendencies. Sociopathic people terrify me, especially the extremist ones who are capable of murder or covering up a murder. I'm not sure where I believe in mercy or justice. I believe in both, but it's a tricky line to walk. I am scared by the results of the trial, but thankful her parents don't have to deal with watching their young daughter being executed. That's more punishment for them than for her. It's just an all-around awful situation for everyone involved, and I hate knowing and witnessing that sort of thing. It's awful how the media flocks to these tragedies. I couldn't get away from it. I couldn't get it out of my mind. Now, maybe you understand why I can't watch scary movies. My brain tends to put scarring things on repeat, and I have enough dark thoughts that I don't need anyone else adding violent imagery into my head.

Well, I guess this proved to be more of an update than I intended. The hardest part is writing that first sentence.

Acceptance

2011-06-20T18:23:00.005-04:00

There's a difference between accepting something/someone and agreeing with it/him or her. I'm improving at accepting reality, I think. In Yoga, we remind ourselves to focus on controlling our perception and behavior, but let go of anything out of our control. Last night, I looked forward to watching a documentary about science and healing. The internet acted up, so I could not get Netflix to play, and I found myself feeling angry and stressed. Laura pointed out how ironic that is--to get angry and stressed about not being able to watch something about HEALING! Instead, I took the time to read a bit. I'd like to start doing Yoga again. After I hurt my back, I stopped running and doing yoga. My body is not happy about quitting yoga, and it tells me so regularly.

I watched the documentary about healing this afternoon, and the entire thing was about how science is now discovering and proving what the ancients already knew--that the mind and body are closely connected impacting one another. Things like Yoga are designed to heal both mind and body simultaneously. They also are discovering the healing effects of pleasing sights and smells and how they release positive endorphins into our brain that can be healing.

I am also working to see my loved ones as they really are. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'll still have disagreements and disappointments, but I hope to be seeing everyone more entirely. I've been explaining to family members that my book will be about truth. I will write about both my loved ones' and my own flaws at times, or moments that don't make us look as nice as we would like to. That being said, if I do my job as a writer, my reader will still love and respect these people like I do. When Natalie Goldberg was accused of making both her Zen instructor and her father "look bad" in her book, The Great Failure, she was surprised. She talked about how loving the book was and that she hopes someone loves her enough when she dies to look at her as an entire person--instead of building her up to be some saint that she wasn't. Real love requires us to accept each other's faults, hold each other accountable, forgive, practice humility and ask for our own forgiveness, and I think that's part of why it's so powerful when we have those few people in our life who really know and love us deeply.

Moving

2011-06-14T14:13:00.003-04:00

I didn't realize it had been over a week since I last blogged. The act of moving is just so draining. I'm still not unpacked here, and I have a ton of laundry and cleaning to do before I am moved in. Moving out went rather smoothly, considering I'd lived in that apartment for three years. I had the help of friends and family along the way, which makes the process so much easier. It was sad to leave the college town where I've spent my last five years. It's certainly the end of an era and goodbyes were tough.

My back is really bothering me lately. I think I'm going to try to get into Ashlee's chiropractor. I've always wanted to go, but heard such mixed things about them. Now that my insurance covers massages if prescribed by a chiropractor, I know I can benefit from going there. My shoulders are always so tense, and now my upper spine is bothering me too. It hurts to bend much, which makes unpacking, doing laundry, and cleaning a bit worse than they already are. I don't think it's anything too serious--just an inconvenience.

Both my dog and cat are sleeping in the living room with me. One of them is snoring gently, which makes me smile. They are so adorable. I can really see how pets are good for people's mental health.

I've been emailing a few profs at different MFA programs I'm interested in. It's such a scary process--to email these writers I admire and completely put myself out there in just one e-mail. It sets me up for the feeling of being rejected on many cases, but is rewarding when it pays off.

My brother, Adam, comes home tomorrow night. I haven't seen him since Christmas, so I am looking forward to his company. There's just something nice about our entire family being together. We don't always get along great or have good conversation, but just the idea that we've all grown over so many years together and make the effort to be in each other's presence is comforting.

Laura's work is getting stressful, which makes it harder to keep in touch and harder to accept I can't do anything to help from afar. I don't like seeing her so stressed, but I keep telling myself that I will go out to visit her and help her move back in August. I miss her terribly, and it's especially hard that I can't be there for her when she is struggling. She's hanging in there like a trooper, though. I know she is capable of working this job, I just don't want her to sacrifice her health in order to do so.

Conversation

2011-06-04T08:45:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, I visited the grounds where I will be staying to work on my manuscript. They showed me what my room looks like, helped me tour the grounds, which included a beautiful former mansion turned into a retreat center. There are beautiful places to write, swings overlooking hills with lots of trees and green grass. The best part was meeting everyone I will be seeing daily. I met some wonderfully kind people--most of them sisters, but a few staff members, as well.

I had to speak on a microphone at lunch to explain my project, my goals, my history. It's rather intimidating to have someone hand you a microphone and tell you to just tell the crowd a bit about yourself and your dream. I didn't know how detailed to get in my explanations. Luckily, they allowed for questions after I said a bit about myself. The nun who has graciously helped me make this connection and drove me there raised her hand first, asking me to further explain my experience working with oppressed children, between my summer job and experiences with volunteer work and service learning trips.

One of the sisters came up to me afterwords, telling me she used to live on a Navajo reservation after college. She explained how delighted she was that Native spirituality would be a part of my spiritual reflections. She also then revealed that she worked for many years as a social worker and that she knew the need for reflection on mental health and spirituality that goes beyond an evangelical approach. I've read a few books about how God saved people from depression, but when you are depressed and have trouble with faith and believing, it doesn't make you feel better when people tell you faith will save you. I even resented it a bit, because I was so ill that I wanted to ask how could anyone or anything with power just let this continue to happen.

I had many conversations--a nice combination of mentally stimulating and shallow talk. I don't mind shallow conversation when it is for a purpose, such as meeting people. Yesterday was an appropriate time for small talk. I mentioned to the woman who drove me down how the healthier I get, the more impatient I get with surface level conversation with people I love. She explained that she thinks it is just a way for someone to feel close to us when they don't have anything else to say. I agreed, but it was interesting because she complained about how terrible it is that we text people all the time, asking meaningless questions or giving them meaningless information. I applied what she said about small talk to texting, saying I agreed texting could be a waste of time and foolish, but that it helps me feel close to people, like Laura, who lives too far away for me to be apart of her daily life on ordinary circumstances. With texting, we can at least check in a bit and stay updated on what we are up to. Humans are social creatures, and it's interesting how we show this in a variety of ways.

My grandma came up to spend the day with me on Thursday and bring me home. We had a nice day and a lot of conversations we'd never engaged in before. It was a nice day, and she has even offered to give me a ride back Sunday so we can do it again. I don't want to be an inconvenience, but I might take her up on that offer, because it's my last week up there, and there's a poetry reading Monday that I don't want to miss. I'm off to jog. I've been sticking with jogging pretty well, but it's challenging some days.

After The House Shook from Thunder

2011-05-29T21:43:00.008-04:00

"My ability to turn good news into anxiety is rivaled only by my ability to turn anxiety into chin acne" --Tina Fey

I've been tense and anxious lately. The funerals, living at home with anxious/stressed family members, thinking about the GRE, not having a paycheck for a month and a half, and then all of the research I'm doing about graduate schools is a lot to think about. I've spent the last two days just searching grad schools, looking at their application fees, portfolio expectations, and all of the other requirements. Most of the schools I want to apply to are incredibly competitive. Every writer wants to get paid to go to school and write. Sure, it's not a lucrative lifestyle, but it's a way to survive while expanding my mind and being forced to do something I love. Not to mention no one can get a job. Combine those things, and the grad programs are overflowing with applications. I want to go into the application process certain of what I'm looking for, with a variety of schools to choose from, and a strong portfolio. That requires planning far in advanced. That's why I've been investing so much time into it these past few days when I have good internet and little responsibility.

I'm also stressed about how I'm going to get back to school in order to go to therapy and yoga on Wednesday, but the problem is that I need to be back home by Thursday night in order to make my meeting with the nuns Friday morning about next year. I can get a ride there with Leslie tomorrow. Getting home is the problem, then I'd want to come back up to spend my last week ever in the location where I've spent the last five years--not to mention the whole moving out of an apartment I lived in for three years process.

My chin has sick, painful eruptions going on from the stress. I love that Tina Fey quote because it mirrors my own life so closely.

Tonight there was an awful storm. A tornado warning was issued, and while we were in the basement thunder rumbled so loud that it shook the house. This intense weather is a bit scary. Also the cold weather we've had lately makes me think that the seasons just aren't right anymore. I don't want to sound like the paranoid people, but I worry about the damage humans have done to this beautiful earth. No one lives a life of balance. We take much more than we give. I don't think life can carry on like this. Not that I'm predicting some end-of-the-world situation. I just worry the consequences we will suffer from our choices, or the consequences the next generations will be forced to deal with because of our choices.

I ordered a yoga dvd, which has a specific practice aimed at people with anxiety and depression. It was reviewed very positively, so I'm optimistic. I finally accepted that I'm just not experienced enough to practice alone without someone guiding me on what to do. I've seen how much better yoga can make me feel, so I hope that this DVD will be a good investment, even though I'm not working right now. I figure if it can help me feel healthier this summer, than it's worth it.

I also was excited to find a list of the top 25 most underrated MFA programs. I'd been so stressed by seeing the acceptance rates of some of the programs I'm looking into--a good majority of them have acceptance rates under %10. I know it's important to apply to a variety of programs, but at the same time, I want my grad school experience to be the best it can be. My professors rave about their time spent in MFA programs, and how you're sheltered from the real world because you are just surrounded by so many people who love and breathe writing like you. Then, they talk about the shock of leaving that community and realizing how lonely the writing life can be. I want to appreciate my 2-3 years surrounded by writing.

Passion for Life

2011-05-27T11:49:00.002-04:00

Nothing makes you appreciate the fragility of life more than a funeral. I had two different friends have their grandmas die this week. Luckily I'm at my parents', so I can attend the funerals and/or visitations. Death circulates our subconscious almost constantly according to researchers who study death anxiety. Things as simple as buckling our seatbelt are motivated by death anxiety. We rarely consciously think about death. It's not until sublime scenery or a funeral that we pause to think about our own mortality.

A friend of mine posted a status that she is having a rough time and needs support and encouragement. This young woman radiates joy and just an overall passion for life. It amazes me that some of the most alive and joyful people I know experience such dark times. I suppose it makes sense that those who experience joy the most intensely are able to do so because of their experiences in darkness.

I've done a lot of reading lately. Last night, I downloaded a bunch of podcasts related to writing, spirituality, or mental health. I have low expectations for myself to produce much writing this summer. I tend to be less creative when I'm living at home, especially when I work and the weather is nice outside. It's important to me that I take advantage of this time with no obligations. When I'm tired, reading can even be challenging. Podcasts are nice because I can learn so much while lying on the couch with my eyes closed. If I fall asleep, I'll try again sometime. There's really only things to gain from them.

Lilacs

2011-05-24T16:50:00.007-04:00

Lilacs trigger two memories for me. The first one is actually one of my first memories ever. It involves having to ask Mom to take me outside to see and smell the lilac bush at our first house. There's a picture of her holding me up so I can put my nose up to the flower. I must have been three or four. I'm not sure if the picture is from that first memory, though. It's the same lilac bush, but this "first" memory seems fuzzier than a photograph. It's like trying to recall a dream. My other first group of memories are from a trip to Disney World when I was two. I have a vague memory of riding the Dumbo ride with my friend and her young Aunt and hugging Frankenstein (I was a big hugger as a child). Actually, I also remember sitting on Miss America's lap. That probably sounds weird, but we were at Disney World for me to compete in "Baby Miss USA." I'd won a free trip for my family and me so I could participate in the pageant and go to Disney World. All of this and a nice savings bond were the results of being crowned "Baby Miss Michigan." Leslie likes to tell people at the bar that I was "Baby Miss Michigan." It's a funny conversation starter, but it's strange telling people I "peaked" at the age of two. This toddler pageant allowed each of the fifty contestants to meet Miss America. I don't remember much about her. I remember she signed a picture for me and gave me a hug.

I don't talk much about my pageant days. My therapist brings them up a lot, so I've gotten more comfortable talking about them. It's really weird for me to remember, though. Child pageants are such a strange culture.

The second memory about lilacs is when Laura brought me some lilac branches she broke off of a bush near the hospital when I was in the psych unit. The bright purple and beautiful scent brightened my room up a bit. I kept them in there the whole time I was in there, even after they died. It's interesting that one memory involves being held to smell lilacs and the other, being hospitalized, is like a return to the days of being held.

I just read Ashley Judd's book, and she talked about how her time receiving in-patient treatment for depression allowed her to be babied and taken care of like she never was as a child. I don't want to go into many details about how that relates to me, but I certainly agree that my hospital experience provided a safe place for me to be held up a little closer to the flowers in my life. My days in the hospital are just as influential in who I am today as my childhood days. I can't deny either experiences because they shaped me. I like that both memories about lilacs and spring are so similar, yet nearly 20 years a part in my short life. Lilacs also trigger my allergies, which also says something on a psychoanalytical level since I love them so much.

Yoga by the River

2011-05-12T14:11:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I had my first yoga class by the river. The temperature couldn't have been more perfect. I didn't sweat or shiver once. I'd been having trouble sleeping because I'm still tense from finishing school. To combat the tension, I started jogging again. In my five years here, I took breaks from working out for an assortment of reasons, but this semester goes down in history as the only time I went an entire semester without working out. The funny part? Everyone has asked me if I lost weight. After my meds made me gain weight so rapidly a couple of years ago, I've worked very hard to keep from gaining more. In all my time of working out, I didn't lose weight. Then, the moment I stop trying, I lose the weight? I'm not complaining. If only I knew it could be so easy. I'm sure it relates to my latest decrease in medication, but I'm wondering if it's feasible to return to my old weight pre-depressive episode--now that I'm working out. I don't want to obsess about it. It's just nice to feel healthy now that I'm jogging again.

In yoga yesterday, I couldn't believe how terrible my balance and concentration has gotten. I knew I hadn't taken time to center myself, but I felt like a wreck. I still enjoyed the balance poses. There is something powerful about being able to control your mind and body simultaneously.

Graduation on Saturday proved to be wonderful. I felt so proud of myself and overwhelmed with gratitude for everyone who supported me along the way. I couldn't sleep because of all the excitement I felt. I posted a note on facebook thanking everyone. I was worried people might get annoyed at my sentimentality, but then I figured I'd rather make sure everyone knows how thankful I am for them instead of assuming they already know. There's no harm in putting positivity out in the world, so I decided I had nothing to lose. Overall, I got a lot of positive feedback, sometimes even from people I haven't talked to in a long while.

I'm reading Marya Hornbacher's new book called Waiting, which is about spirituality as a non-believer. It takes a lot more concentration to read than some of her past books. Her past books were fun, fast-paced books with nice reflections slipped in. This one is mostly reflection and it goes into a lot of depth. I like the way she thinks. I am reading it for fun right now, but I will reread it and take notes at a later date to use for my own reflections.

I'm sitting outside in a tank-top, capris, and flip-flops for the first time all year. I thought it could even be considered too warm when I went jogging today. I like to eat breakfast before I jog, so I didn't go jogging until late morning. it's perfect now that I'm sitting outside under a tree. I need a hair cut, though. My hair is so thick and long that it's like a giant blanket on my head...enough complaining. Life is going great these days.

Hop-scotching to Avoid Earthworms

2011-05-01T21:10:00.003-04:00

Nothing makes stress worse than bad weather. If I had to sum up the last couple weeks of school, I would say it was a lot of rushing around in the rain both literally and metaphorically. The only thing worse than extreme stress is bad weather on top of said stress. I spent too many late nights hop-scotching to avoid mud, puddles, and worms while I power-walked home, trying (unsuccessfully) to keep my new shoes clean. I'm having a hard time comprehending the worst is over. I will officially have a college degree after this week. It's been a bittersweet five years. I've learned more than I ever thought possible--the most important lessons being outside of the classroom. I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to experience higher-education, and I don't think I'll ever fully be able to leave academia. There's something invigorating about so many idealists in one location. I've met life-changing people during my time here and am so proud to know such a great variety of classmates, coworkers, bosses, and professors. My life will never be the same. I used to pity the people who went to college and worked at jobs that didn't require or appreciate a college degree. I thought it could be considered a waste of money. After my experience with education, I understand that education is an investment that betters a persons life regardless of whether it directly impacts their career. Education is the answer to so many of our social problems, and I believe a little knowledge, wisdom, and love can change the world. Enough sentimentality about my education. It has not all been fun. In fact, getting this degree has involved absolute hell at times. That may sound like an over-exaggeration, but those who know what my undergraduate days have entailed will understand that there were many times I did not think I'd make it through. Overall, my point is that I am not taking my education for granted. I hope to use my degree to make positive change in my life as well as those who are touched by it.

I have been getting excited looking into graduate schools. It is my goal to develop an even more solid portfolio than I had for this past year. After another few months of writing, I expect to have something I'm really proud of to submit to grad schools. The ideas about everything that is possible for me in the future as a writer is thrilling. The idea of having a year off to read and write whatever I want is the best thing that could have happened to me for this year. I look forward to seeing where I will end up after a year dedicated to my growth as a writer and human being. I actually decided I am going to start a new blog in the fall when I move in with the nuns. I might still keep this up just to give me access to all of my old entries, but with a new one, I will be able to treat it with more reverence and importance, in addition to giving my blog site out to anyone and everyone who is interested. It will be a step toward getting some public attention too, which is good for trying to get published.

I guess I should go prepare for my week of exams. It's been a wonderful, long weekend. I spent most of it sleeping, reading, and just plain relaxing. I loved every second of it and feel recharged to tackle my final week as an undergraduate. Happy Spring, everyone!

Closure

2011-04-17T14:45:00.007-04:00

My mood has changed significantly since Wednesday. I've gone from feeling capable and optimistic to defeated. I'm having my usual Sunday depressive symptoms, which involves guilt about failing to accomplish half of my goals and anxiety about how to handle the upcoming week. I did a lot of writing this weekend. I should take a moment to feel proud, but instead I feel worthless and lazy because I didn't accomplish enough. Although, I have to believe taking three English classes can mess with anyone's mental health especially when one involves working on my book. Don't get me wrong, I love working on my book, but I take it so seriously that it consumes me. I only meet with my professor two more times, and I'm supposed be ready to submit my third chapter to lit journals when we conclude. I don't even have a full draft of the chapter completed yet, let alone started polishing. I have an entire fiction story due Tuesday. After scrapping two stories and a couple weeks of work, I'm finally working on one I like. Writing a complete short story in one weekend where I'm also supposed to be wrapping up my chapter and writing Victorian literature papers--not to mention reading hundreds of pages. I haven't even thought about final exams. I'm just taking it one week at a time; one day at a time; one breath at a time.

I'm loving having my friend from MN in town again. I felt less depressed after we met up in the coffee shop today. We're both still there, but I'm working while she visits with other friends. She leaves to go home Tuesday and then moves to Mexico shortly. I don't know when I'll see her next. Those type of goodbyes are the worst--not knowing when to expect a reunion. I know I've said it before, but it blows me away how the older I get, the more goodbyes there are to say and the more intense they become. It seems growing up means saying goodbye. It makes sense, I guess. I mean everyone dies in the end, which can be considered the ultimate form of goodbye. We can't escape goodbyes, so it should have been obvious that aging creates more goodbyes. I don't know why I felt struck down by that realization. I suppose I just didn't understand the complexity of goodbyes as a child. Not to mention, I knew less people outside of my family that I had to say goodbye to.

Goodbyes relate to closure, the topic of our staff meeting on Friday. My boss talked about how she struggles with closure in many ways. A group of coworkers gave a presentation on the importance of providing closure when we end our sessions. We all agreed we hadn't thought much about it and that people will remember most how they felt when they left. In the meeting, I realized I have trouble with closure in every aspect of my life, but I handle closing my sessions rather well. I think I use my discomfort from past experiences of awkward goodbyes and closings that I go out of my way to make sure my student feels confident and comfortable when we part. College classes rarely have closure. Either everyone takes an exam in silence and leaves on their own time or stops by on their own time to turn in a portfolio. Every now and then I've had classes that don't have an exam, but we still meet to conclude everything. I like that because otherwise, I go from seeing these professors and classmates twice a week to losing all contact.

Talking about abrupt endings also gets me thinking about how unbalanced life in college can be. It goes from one extreme to the other. For example, I usually go through a little post-exams depression. I attribute that to the fact that I'm so ungodly busy for weeks that I don't have time to think about anything, and then all of a sudden, I have nothing at all to do. I'm usually too burnt out to read or write, which are my normal leisurely past times. Instead, I spend my days sleeping, staring at the ceiling, and checking my e-mail every second, often getting down that no one has e-mailed. I then ruminate on the fact that everyone has a life but me and get into some sort of existential crisis where I wonder my purpose in life. College involves some nights of little sleep and then other times where you can sleep all day. Of course I can't forget to mention the unbalanced, extreme drinking mindset in college towns. I'm usually pretty good about pacing myself, but it can be difficult to handle everyone else getting trashed or people buying me drinks without asking me. Then I feel obligated to drink them, because they paid money for it just for me, and I feel ungrateful if I refuse it. I need to be stronger willed about that. I'm sure it relates to my passivity as a woman in this culture and how I don't know how to worry about myself more than others. This can be observed by my unbalanced eating as well. Not only do I eat an unbalanced diet, but I eat at all different times. I often go all day without eating during the week before exams because I am working so hard I forget to eat. Then at night, I am dizzy and in a terrible mood.

I'm off to work on homework. Although, just to set the mood for what I'm working on, I'll include an excerpt from the bio about Oscar Wilde that can be found in my Oxford Anthology: Victorian Prose and Poetry book. I'm writing one of my class journals about his piece, "The Importance of Being Earnest." The end of the biography's first paragraph, which begins by raving about his accomplishments and talent, reads "At the height of his triumph, disaster befell him: he was indicted for homosexual practices, found guilty, and sentenced to two years at hard labor; he emerged from prison a broken man, bereft of position, hope, and talent. He died solitary and destitute in a shabby hotel ' in Paris." Wow. What a horrible end to life. I hope to never experience anything like that.

Spring Cleaning

2011-04-13T21:40:00.009-04:00

I cleaned like crazy this past weekend. Our apartment could have been labeled a disaster zone. There should have been yellow caution tape up around it. We had a mound of recycling that hadn't been taken back since before Christmas. It got to be so big that we couldn't turn that electric heater on due to fear of fire. Dishes were stacked up with dry food on most of them. I had taken over the love seat with my electric blanket sprawled out, books, notebooks, and my computer and chords all beside it. We hadn't vacuumed or dusted in who knows how long.

Calling Leslie's and my bathroom dirty could be considered an understatement. I had jewelry, make-up, and hair supplies (and hair) all over the counter. The toilet hadn't been scrubbed since before her boyfriend threw up blueberry vodka on the side, leaving blue marks. Not to mention, our toilet seat "mysteriously" broke while Leslie and I were out of town. It slides back and forth, and if you're not careful, you might fall right off the toilet. I mean, this place could make anyone depressed and unmotivated due to causing a feeling of defeat before you even start cleaning. I didn't sleep great Friday night. I slept a lot during the day due to having another headache. I also stayed up writing, because I felt unusally creative and seemed to be making good progress on my chapter that I had to turn in today. I woke up with spunk and started cleaning and doing dishes right away. The place looks spectacular, especially considering what it used to be. We normally don't let things get that bad, but this semester has been chaos for all of us.

Sunday, I decided it needed to be the time I finally broke down and cleaned my room. I had kind of accepted that I just wouldn't get it clean before moving out, or at least until graduation with the way my schedule is going. I figured most of it could be taken care of just by doing laundry, which I needed to do anyway. When I picked up my jacket off the floor, a centipede ran out. I can't stand those things. They're incredibly fast, ugly, and they bite. After a mad chase through my dirty clothes, I killed the little devil, deciding to keep clothes off the floor for the rest of my time here. I washed my sheets and put back on my normal ones, taking off the fleece winter ones. I had too much homework to finish cleaning the entire thing. I'm really proud though, because yesterday, on my craziest day of the week,I used my short dinner break to eat a lunch-to-go and vacuum/dust my room. Now, it looks fabulous. It seems strange and calming to come home to a clean room, especially when I get the buddha fountain going with the water noises and different color lights.

I'm burried in homework. I have entire books (yes, plural) to read this weekend, long literature papers to write, and an intense amount of creative work due for fiction and my ind. study. I do not take my creative writing lightly, so the time needed to create something up to my standards feels unimaginable at this moment. I figure now that I have a clean environment to work in, I will have to be productive with homework this weekend. I will do the usual Thursday pizza and beer with Tammy and Leslie, but that will be my only fun night. There is a local folk concert that Tammy and I are hoping to catch Friday night, but that shouldn't be more than 2-3 hours.

Graduation is coming up right around the corner. I need to purchase my cap and gown, which is the least of my worries at this moment. I'm not even excited about graduating because I have such a huge load of work to finish before then, and I'm not sure how it will get done. The good news: I'm handling the stress really well. My therapist seemed impressed with how healthy I am. I just know it will all get done enough for me to graduate and that life won't end if I don't get the grade I want. I'm also getting excited and even a little zen about the whole living a life of mindfullness, writing, and reading next year. I think being given the opportunity to do such a thing requires me to be incredibly thankful. I mean, how many people get to have reading, writing, and spirituality be the center of their life? I realize I most likely will never have this opportunity again, so I plan to treasure it. Don't get me wrong, I understand it won't be easy. Being alone regularly, confronting spiritual issues I've repressed, living with no one my own age, and hearing about my friends going out on weekends will be a challenge. I'm sure I will experience loneliness and confusion to the most extreme degrees. I'm optimistic about who I will become after the life-changing experience. I think I can find a level of contentment that I've not yet achieved. Today my therapist even said that she doesn't think I have to worry about descending as far back into depression as I did, because I've developed such a better sense of identity, love for myself, and a self-awareness that many people of any age don't have. I felt honored to hear her say that. The road sure hasn't been easy or short, by any means. Spring cleaning pales in comparison to the last few years of cleaning out my insides. The thing about cleaning: you get to celebrate for a couple days and appreciate it, then there's more to do.

Colors

2011-04-05T16:37:00.006-04:00

I've been thinking about colors lately. My weekend consisted of a variety of activities that brought colors to my attention. It started Thursday. Still weak from my migraine and vomiting the day before, I felt thankful I did not have my 12:30 class. After my 9:30 class, I went home and took some migraine medication. I meant to use that time to do homework, but slept several hours away. I woke up to the sunshine leaking through the bottom of each individual blind, hitting my light blue fleece sheets. My headache was gone, but I was hungry and still tired. I went to my ind. study early, buying a fruit salad and a caesar salad. The greens in the salad and the bright red strawberries in the fruit salad lifted my mood. It helped that my prof then said I am producing some of my best writing lately. It was quite a disappointment when my computer crashed and flashed a gray screen and a white folder with a question mark in the middle of meeting with him.

I spent Friday with a nice group of girls I hadn't seen in a while. We shopped for bridesmaid dresses, which had me thinking about all sorts of colors. There were beautiful purples, greens, pinks, blues, and oranges. I tried on a watermelon colored dress and fell in love with it. If I ever get married, I think that should be one of my colors. Alicia chose navy blue, because all of us looked decent in it. It proved to be tricky with such a variety of shapes, sizes, heights, hair color, skin color, etc... The navy blue seemed flattering on everyone. Now, I just have to come up with the money for it. In the evening, we watched "The Fighter" again. I appreciated it even more the second time. I love the way films use such a variety of techniques to appeal to viewers on a much deeper level. It really is art when done well.

Saturday morning, we left early to go watch Ashlee run her half-marathon. My glasses broke, causing me to see only blurry outlines of objects and colors. Ashlee wore bright green running tights. With so many runners and spectators, it helped me spot her from far away. At first, we didn't even think it could be her because she finished at such a fast and strong pace. She had been worried about even finishing. Seeing her finish strong left me feeling proud of her accomplishment and hope that maybe I can get back in shape. The weather is finally lightening up, so maybe in the next week I'll start running again.

Tammy and I spent the afternoon with Grandma and Uncle Mike. The rest of the family stayed around where the half marathon took place because they had a plane leaving the area for Vegas later in the evening. Vegas lights alter the senses. All of the different colors and flashing lights make me feel invincible. We stopped at the mall on the way home to get my computer fixed. I replaced the hard drive. I hadn't planned on putting anymore money into this computer with it being so old, but they thought replacing the hard drive would give me another couple years out of it, if not more. We shopped a bit while waiting for the computer to be fixed. I found a new pair of skateboard shoes, but they were too much money for me to buy them. Grandma surprised me by letting me get them, anyway. They are a dark denim with pink plaid on the side. The bottoms are bright pink, and I'm looking forward to getting some hot pink laces for them.

Saturday night, some friends came over to get in the hot tub and watch "Black Swan." It proved to be such a nice time and no one really even drank much. It was just a fun night of giggling, snacking, and catching up. Like "The Fighter," I loved "Black Swan" even more the second time. The first time, it's such a wild ride that I didn't notice all of the little things that make it as powerful as it is. The colors throughout the film especially jumped out at me. The costumes and all of the contrast between black, white, and gray. There's an especially striking scene where they are on drugs in a dance club and bright lights and strobe lights flash, creating beautiful pictures.

With all of the thoughts about colors, I made them a common thread in my latest story for my fiction class. I want the story to be humorous, possess depth, and be visually stimulating with all of the references to color. It got me thinking that growing up can cause bright colored auras to fade. I'm not talking literal auras, but just the idea of everyone being a unique color that starts bright and fades with time seems to ring true to my experiences so far. I'm exploring aging in my story a bit too. It is terrible as of now, though. I'm doing too much in too little of space. I hope to play around with it this weekend.

After getting a new computer, my pictures are all gone. I loaded a close up picture I took of my mom's hibiscus flower a couple years ago during the summer I spent recovering from the hospital. The picture is fiery orange with yellow and for some reason the little background that does show is black, making the flower even brighter. Little water droplets are on each petal, and it looks stunning as my new wallpaper. Every time I open my computer, the bright colors send my mind spinning.

Good Intentions

2011-03-26T15:12:00.009-04:00

But goodness alone is never enough. A hard cold wisdom is required, too, for goodness to accomplish good. Goodness without wisdom invariably accomplishes evil.

- Robert Heinlein

I used to excuse people's mistakes a lot by saying, "Well, they have/had good intentions." A friend once pointed out that most people have good intentions. Fewer people than we think go out, thinking, "Wow, I really want to make life harder for this person." I think it's important to be mindful of these things when it comes to forgiveness, but forgiveness does not mean lack of punishment.

Chris Brown is getting popular again. This worries me because he was caught perpetrating domestic violence, yet girls are still swooning over him. Sure, maybe he went to therapy (that's what every celebrity does when they get in trouble). I'll even give him the benefit of the doubt, believing maybe he changed and will work to help end violence against women. Someone made the point that a lot of celebrities are probably doing the same thing (domestic violence), but not getting caught. I'm sure that's true, which is why I think as a culture we need to make it clear that we will not stand for any form of violence. Chris Brown's career should be over, unless he wants to go public about preventing domestic violence and start singing songs that portray women in a better light. What does it say to other celebrities, actually people in general, if Chris Brown can make a come-back after such unacceptable behavior?

In my Psychology of Women class, I get depressing statistics about a variety of inequities between men and women. I've always been a feminist (since I learned what one was in like fourth or fifth grade), but my class is making me crack down much harder on how women are portrayed in the media. It's tricky because I like a lot of hip-hop. I listen to mostly talented artists who don't degrade women, and I try not to like or listen to the ones that do, but sometimes they're just catchy and good to dance to. I'm working to find some sort of balance between standing up for fair treatment of women without being a social outcast, which turns people off to the point of not listening.

A lot of harm has done by people with good intentions. I will never forget the panel I went to on religious tolerance. Everyone of all faiths was agreeing on the importance of tolerance. The guy speaking for Buddhism said, "Tolerance is, of course, something to strive for if the beliefs are not harming anyone else. I will not, nor do I think I should, tolerate beliefs that infringe on another person's rights." There are times when good intentions are not enough. Verbally keeping the peace is not always the best choice. I'm a firm believer in choosing my battles. My therapist said I'm good at choosing my battles. I don't waste my breath on people who won't listen. There are many times someone says something that might offend me, but I hold my tongue. There are other times where I cannot and will not hold my tongue if someone says something plainly hateful. I don't know how to handle hate. It terrifies me, and I would even go as far to say as I hate hate. It threatens my world-view, because I like to believe people are generally good unless they are sick in some way.

For example, in psychology class we learned Jeffrey Dahmer's parents were butchers. He was around dead animals and blood a lot. His father used to torture animals and his mother chased him around with knives. Now, that in NO way should excuse his horrific acts. In fact, thinking about it all disgusts me. But I'm all about seeing people as human, even hateful people, even though I don't like seeing their humanity. It reminds me that we are not that different, and I could be like them. It makes forgiveness more realistic to see our enemies' humanity. That being said, I do not tolerate hateful people in my life, and sometimes feel hatred toward hateful people. I can't always practice what I preach, so I would prefer to keep hateful people out of my life altogether. It's one thing to wish I never see the person again and another to wish harm on them. I often joke about fighting mean people, but in reality I just don't want to see them. I don't really delete people off facebook. I'm just too lazy to go through my billion friends. Plus, if I ever write a book, I will try to get all of my friends to read it. I've only deleted a couple people that I found to be harmful for my world-view. People that I just didn't believe to be good people. I try not to judge, but there are some behaviors and words that I cannot tolerate and do not want to be surrounded by. I prefer to keep the arrogant, ignorant, hateful, and straight up selfish people out of my life. I don't want to be tainted by their darkness.

Pursuit of Happiness

2011-03-24T08:53:00.004-04:00

"Americans are saddled with the idea that we can and should be happy. It's as if we've misread the Declaration of Independence and think it guarantees us the right not to pursue happiness but to achieve it (Susanna Kaysen pg 41 in Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression).

I woke up at 4am today. I used the extra time to read, tried to fall back asleep again, but gave up at 6. I've been up since. I slept all day yesterday from being sick, so maybe I just didn't need anymore sleep. I still feel tired, though. I'm not really a morning person, but mornings are beautiful, so I can appreciate them once in a while like today. Walking to the library in the snow, the sun rose and the moon stayed in the blue sky.

I'm wearing the Ganesh (Hindu god responsible for creativity amongst many other things) t-shirt I bought at Venice Beach, hoping it might spark creativity. My fiction writing is almost non-existent, and I'm just not as far along in my chapter as I'd like to be for my ind. study. I can't help but remembering my bosses reassurance that the writing process never goes how we think it should, and that I need to just keep trying and be patient. It will surprise me eventually. It always does.

The quote above is from an essay by the woman who wrote Girl, Interrupted. Her essay is titled, "One Cheer for Melancholy." I like a lot of what she has to say. I think in order to enjoy life and feel content, we must understand it's about the journey, not the destination, and that human limitations will always wreak havoc on us as individuals.

In Kaysen's essay she talks about how the high rates of depression relate with people having more time to ruminate on how unhappy they are. I don't know that I'm doing her argument justice, but without trying to summarize the entire thing, I will say that I didn't agree with all of it. I agree that sadness or grief is not depression and that our culture doesn't like to be confronted with sadness and grief, so they try to make it something medical to "cure" it. The harsh reality is that no one makes it out alive. Life is filled with emotional, physical, and spiritual pain. It's okay to be sad. I would say it's even okay to have a day or even a week or two where one is depressed. All of the most joyful people I know have experienced some sort of depression, so it is clearly a natural part of the human condition. I fear that too many people compare their natural grief and sadness to clinical depression already, and I worry Kaysen's essay might affirm those beliefs. It's hard enough not to feel like the illness is your fault without people making outside assumptions about what your problem is.

Catharsis

2011-03-17T15:26:00.011-04:00

1. February

Four straight weeks of some drug-like theme park ride that plunges from euphoria to detox before I can even let out a scream or figure out the theme of whatever park I’m living in. It seems telling that it’s my birthday month. In fact, when I told my therapist my birthday was on Leap Year, she laughed. Apparently, it’s so symbolic of my life and personality that it would be considered a cliché if someone chose to write about me as a fictional character in a class and included that detail. Take that however you choose.

I share my birthday month with many other intense individuals: Langston Hughes, James Joyce, Charles Dickens, Abraham Lincoln, Darren Aronofsky, Cesar Ramero, Chris Farley, Kurt Cobain, Mary Carpenter, Herman Hesse, Johnny Cash, and John Steinbeck—to name a few.

Age is something that reminds us of our mortality. We use our birthdays to celebrate life, yet I know so many people who look at their birthday as something depressing, as a sign that they are getting closer to death. I have friends and family covering a wide variety of ages. I’ve noticed after a certain age, we all seem to hear that voice reminding us we have spent another year of our life, which causes anxiety. Did we pay too much? Not enough? Did we cherish our purchase? I’ve tried to rise above this from my experience working with the elderly, but I’m ashamed to say I know that voice already. I fight it by living to the best of my ability, loving as deeply and as genuinely as I know how, and allowing myself to feel the purest forms of joy and grief still trying to keep depression and death from consuming me.

Then of course there’s Valentine’s Day, a holiday that makes me regress psychologically more than Christmas ever will. For the days surrounding the Hallmark holiday, I return to the mindset of my fourteen/fifteen-year-old giddy girlfriend days where dozens of roses were typical, kisses still made me nearly run into doors or drop my keys, new necklaces and bracelets sparkled against my skin, and I said whatever my boyfriend wanted to hear to live out a fairytale. There’s something about this holiday that makes me believe in magic despite my bitterness toward the materialism and the fact that I always end the week by ruminating on what a failure I am at maintaining intimate relationships.

2. Skin

I got my first sunburn of the year this past week in Los Angeles. It wasn’t the painful kind that makes me feel trapped in my skin both metaphorically and literally. It was the pleasant kind where I appreciated the warmth radiating off of my skin. I fell asleep outside on a bench lying on my side, causing me to burn on just one side of my body. My face looked like the gray scale you’d find in an art class, except transitioning from bright red, instead of black, to white.

After a day at Venice Beach with Perla, she pointed out the white peace sign tan line on my face from my dangling peace sign hoop earrings. We’d spent the day people watching and shopping along the beach. My time with Perla proved to be incredible. I guess I shouldn’t have expected otherwise, but six years can be a long time to go without seeing someone…a lot can change. A lot DID change. It was comforting to be reminded that no matter what changes, real friendship doesn’t fade. It’s a shame the way life keeps us from staying close with everyone we love.

The sunburn on my left arm has developed some sort of rash. It could be the sunscreen I kept putting on it after it burned. I used to have allergic reactions to sunscreen as a child. Either way, I study the little red bumps and am intrigued by the way they go back and forth between being tiny and barely noticeable to sometimes inflamed, red, and itchy. The change in the color of my skin also has me examining my scars. I have scars from a variety of situations and utensils. They all healed in different ways, shapes and colors.

My biggest scar, the one on my neck from having a giant Hygroma cyst removed as a child, sunburned this week, causing the wide centipede looking pure white scar tissue to turn pink. It’s a strange sensation having my scar burnt because my nerves are still so weird around my entire shoulder from that surgery. In fact, the nerves are still so damaged that when they gave me a shot in my armpit to numb my arm for wrist surgery (I was hoping to avoid anesthesia because it makes me so nauseous), my arm wouldn’t go numb. They were amazed that after two giant shots, I could still feel them pinching my wrist.

Speaking of my wrist surgery, that scar is incredible. It’s so tiny for the hours of work that went into putting a screw in my disintegrating bone. The scar stops right at the edge of my tattoo, which makes me smile because the surgeon said he hated tattoos and couldn’t promise he wouldn’t have to cut into it. The fact that it stops right where my tattoo begins shows what caution and precision he used to protect my tattoo, knowing that it meant so much to me.

I can’t talk about skin without mentioning my tattoo of course. I love the font I chose to have such meaningful words written in. The blue “wisdom” I stare at underneath both the green vine that represents growth and my surgery scar calms me. The purple “courage,” and the part of the vine near it, is faded. It didn’t heal right because that part of the wrist is incredibly sensitive. It was constantly itchy, dry, and just didn’t seem to heal no matter how much Vitamin E I put on it. There’s a gap in the ink bracelet because they can’t tattoo over scars. Apparently trying to tattoo over scars is like drawing with permanent marker on wet paper; the ink spiders out of control. Luckily, the scar that bisects my tattoo is not deep. The last time I had the tattoo artist look at it, she said it is finally healed enough for her to go over it. I hope to get the faded parts and the blank in the bracelet all fixed soon. I think it will be monumental and symbolic of a full recovery, or as full of a recovery as one can ever attain after such trauma. I mean the scars both emotional and literal will never go away completely even though they fade a bit more each year.

Skin is both thick and thin, depending on perspective. I’d argue my skin is too thin, metaphorically speaking. Having once tried to access veins that seem to erupt at the surface, it’s still surprising how many layers of skin protect the flesh and bone. Skin serves such important purposes, can change and heal so significantly, in addition to just being aesthetically pleasing and essential to being human. Despite skin’s importance, the color of one’s skin does not change any of the real protective functions it serves.

Why does skin color have such power and importance in our culture? Skin color determines how we are treated and judged by strangers, who we are more likely to connect with, and how we identify ourselves. One thing that sticks with me from having discussions with some of my friends of color is the pressure that is placed on minorities of any sort to represent their entire minority group. An example that sticks with me is the fact that if my African American friends are laughing loud in public, strangers use that to confirm or disconfirm their stereotypes about the entire race. If my Caucasian friends and I laugh loud in public, people blame it on either our age (which brings up another aspect of discrimination) or more likely just the fact that we are loud and obnoxious people. They’d never think that because of our behavior, all Caucasians are loud.

3. La Ciudad de Los Angeles

I had a great time in L.A. I’ve been rocking out to every song I own about Cali and The City of Angels just to reflect on how our environments impact our creative and everyday lives. Evan mentioned how his diet has even changed since they moved west. I experience similar obvious changes in my creativity when I travel, which is probably why I make traveling such a priority in my life. It’s not that I have any more money than most of my friends… in fact, it’s probably the opposite because I have much more debt than the majority of them. It’s just that the highlights of my life and times I’ve felt most alive seem to happen when I’m traveling, and I know I only live once. I try to take advantage of the fact that I am at a point in my life where I get breaks with little responsibility and that I’m not responsible for anyone else right now.

It doesn’t have to be any extreme traveling like my trip to Spain (although those trips are magical), but just leaving my comfort zone is helpful for me to expand my mind and jump back into a creative interpretation of the world. This is important, because I am generally healthier when I’m creatively nourished. I’d rather be stingy about how much I spend at the bar or how often I go out to eat instead of eliminating travel from my life. Next year will be tough since I will be living with no source of income with the nuns. Traveling won’t really be an option, which will be difficult considering most of my close friends don’t or won’t live by me anymore.

I am grateful for the sunshine I experienced all week. It really lifts my mood. I’m even more thankful for my time with April, Evan, and Silvio. They are wise, articulate (Silvio, too--haha okay not yet, but someday he will be:), and overall healthy people, which I need more of in my life. I got used to having insightful, caring people to bounce my ideas off of and affirm me when I felt doubt in regards to my abilities or past decisions. It was also nice to meet some of their friends and observe what their lives are like there.

It’s strange when friends move away, because it often leaves me with no idea what their lives are like anymore. For example, I can’t imagine Kristin’s life in Chile, or even in Phoenix now. I’d really like to visit her and her mom before she leaves the country again, but who knows where that money would come from. She said she might come here to MI before she leaves, so hopefully I, at least, get to see her.

I guess, similarly, many of my friends and family do not know what my life is like here at school. Many of them have never seen my apartment, the campus I’ve wandered for five years now, my job, or met any of my close friends in the area.

4. Writing Right

I got a great idea for starting my chapter about the South Dakota trips while at a prayer/meditation service with April at her college. I feel like a slacker because this is my third time meeting with my ind. study prof where I have just not made the progress I should have. I got a nice start of about 2 pages, but it’s nowhere near the five plus pages I should have had. This week kind of got the best of me. I didn’t get home from my trip until midnight Sunday night. Monday, I had to work, go to class (where I couldn’t stop from dozing off every two seconds), and then cram for an exam I had Tuesday. Tuesdays are my day where I’m on the go from 9:15 AM to 9:15 PM, so I did not get the five pages done when I finished work. Then, I had a giant paper due today. I’m currently running on three hours of sleep. I will most certainly be napping when my school week concludes at three.

I’m not feeling confident as a writer lately, which is not good for pushing on through exhaustion and writer’s block either. My fiction class is messing with everything I know. I have such a love/hate relationship with fiction. I’ve been getting comments about how I need to tighten up my language, which is a very elementary mistake to be making considering I’ve technically specialized in poetry for my undergrad degree (non-fiction is not a real option). Poetry is all about tightening language to be as concise as possible. My non-fiction prof seems to respect my long sentences. I’ve been paying close attention to sentence structures in all of the memoirs I’m reading for that class. The idea that my writing structure is flawed is shaking my very idea of my voice as a writer. Writing is so subjective. I am just trying to appreciate comments from such a variety of professors and students, taking what helps and leaving what doesn’t. Considering I’m still trying to gain confidence in my stylistic choices, I am not yet in a place where I feel I can disagree with a professor. Not saying that I don’t appreciate these comments. I love my fiction prof, and I’m really enjoying getting his perspective on my writing. It’s just challenging some of my beliefs.

5. Goodbye to Romance

I’m cautious when I date people—slow to trust, let my guard down, and share my vulnerability. This has caused problems in the past. I was mindful with this last relationship to show my enthusiasm, put myself out there to be burnt, and dove in full force. The fact that things crashed and burned so quickly isn’t resting so well on the ego. There has to be some sort of balance, right?

Being raised Catholic mixed with attending Church and Catechism regularly all through my childhood taught me that sex was something to be both put on a pedestal and treasured, yet dangerous and morally wrong to engage in before marriage.

However, being raised in a family with very modern and open views on sex in addition to being surrounded by both the media and people in my life encouraging casual sex, I’ve had trouble learning how to approach relationships.

I had an epiphany over break after reflecting on a fact we learned in my psychology of women class. We talked about how both men and women are capable of feeling love just as intensely for one another, unlike some of the stereotypes that suggest women tend to care more for men than men do for them.

The difference is that women tend to feel that intensity more quickly and directly in relationship to sex. It was great to hear my professor talk about her belief in women’s sexual choice, but talk about the importance, from a health perspective, of not rushing into sex. I appreciated this factual approach that did not involve morality at all. It was nice to hear a perspective focused strictly on keeping myself emotionally healthy and experiencing deeper and more fulfilling relationships instead of suggesting I am flawed for choosing either side of the argument.

I read an article for my freshman English composition course here at school called, “The New Sexual Deviant” from Bitch magazine. The author talked about how women are just as oppressed sexually than ever. Instead of the old oppression that suggested a woman was a “whore” if she chose to have sex before marriage, the new repression proposes the idea that women are “prudish” or “repressed” if they choose not to. The author was advocating for balance and choice. She said she was just as uncomfortable with waiting to have sex until marriage, as she was the idea of sleeping with too many people to count. Yet, she made it clear that her opinion and sexual morals were not the point of the essay.

Some people require going from one extreme to the other in order to find the proper balance. For example, not to compare commas to sex (although I once heard a quote that poets are obsessed with death, sex, and commas), but there was a time in my literary career when I did not use any commas. I then went to the extreme of placing commas everywhere before I learned how to properly punctuate my sentences. I observe this a lot with the students I help in the writing center. Too many commas make a mess. Not enough commas can be just plain confusing. One is not better than the other, but when commas are used properly they allow the writer and reader both to exchange much more complex ideas, enhancing the quality of work.

6. March

My February drug detox time is over. I’m back from Spring Break and emotionally, physically (okay maybe not physically due to my lack of sleep this week), spiritually, and creatively recharged. I’m still evaluating the highs and lows of Febraury—completely perplexed and disheartened by my naivety in regards to the latest relationship. I’m not even sure I learned anything from it. I suppose I discovered that I can get burned a lot faster than I thought possible and that traveling, sunshine, and supportive friends are a pretty damned good remedy to the burn.

It’s sunny here today. If I’d gotten more than 3 hours of sleep, I’d get my skateboard out instead of napping. I’ll make up for it hopefully by enjoying my usual Thursday night pizza with Tambo and some $2 microbrews for St. Patrick’s day at our usual Thursday night hangout. I’m wearing the green shirt Jordan got me for Christmas two years ago. Tonight, I’ll sport some of the green beads Laura gave me from Mardi Gras in Louisiana. I’m not crazy about St. Patrick’s day like a lot of college students, but it is far better than St. Valentine’s Day from the previous month. There were students that set their alarms to get up and start drinking this morning. That can’t be healthy. I mean, we’re talking students who can’t wake up for class on an ordinary day, but they can wake up to drink? There were bars opening at like 7 this morning. I don’t feel good about the several sirens I’ve heard speeding through town throughout the day either. Despite the fear of alcohol abuse, I will admit that it’s nice to have a reason to wear green and be unified with strangers on campus. It’s also nice to have an extra reason to look forward to a couple of my favorite beers tonight.

Monday was Adam’s birthday. He is the last birthday that happens in just slightly over a month for my siblings and me. Ashlee is February 9^th. I’m twenty days later, and then, Adam is exactly two weeks after mine. It’s fun to share a birthday month with Ashlee and a Zodiac sign with Adam. Maybe that explains why I am kind of the middle ground between the two. Or maybe it’s just that I’m the middle child between the two in age. Adam’s in London right now. That’s my dream location to visit one day. There’s so much literary and music history there. Not to mention, I heard it’s just beautiful and British accents make any man ten times more attractive :)

March is such a fun month because it starts out so rough (which I got to miss mostly because I spent the first chunk in Los Angeles, soaking up sunshine and not thinking about school), but often ends beautiful. If it doesn’t end beautiful, it at least has provided some sort of hint that beautiful weather is on the horizon. I’m off to take a much-needed nap and feel relieved that I finally put these swirling thoughts into sentences.

First Born Unicorn

2011-03-15T11:11:00.002-04:00

The title of this blog is from "Californication" by Red Hot Chili Peppers. It seemed appropriate due to my recent trip and love for unicorns. There's a ton of music about California, and I have been reflecting on the lyrics lately. I'm back from a wonderful week with a lot of schoolwork, jet-lag, and thoughts swirling in my mind. I'm working on a long, thought-out blog entry that I'd hoped to post today on my break. However, it is still unfinished and I have a busy week, so I'm not sure when I will post it. It's thoughts I can't get off my mind, though, so I hope to finish it ASAP. I posted pics on facebook just now. I can't wait to post my thoughts on everything. Stay tuned. Thanks for your patience, and I appreciate everyone asking me for an update on my trip. It's nice to know people read this and actually care what I think and how my week went. I shall come through soon, friends :)

Birthday Blues

2011-02-27T14:01:00.005-05:00

I suppose I don't really have the birthday blues. It's more like the typical Sunday blues that just seem intensified. It doesn't help that I am at the library, avoiding a paper arguing that the religious lines in Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem "In Memoriam A.H.H." are examples of repression. I chose this poem because it's one of the few poems that spoke to me in that class. The poem took him 17 years to write. His best friend, who he had an incredibly close, although apparently non-sexual relationship with, died when Tennyson was 22. In class I thought about how I would feel if I lost any of my close friends at this age. At this age, my closest friendships have all been tested and survived a great deal. To lose one of them, and then attempt to write a poem about it would be near impossible. Apparently, Tennyson felt the same, but pushed on for 17 years until he came up with something he approved of.

In addition to the paper, I am overwhelmed with the idea of my birthday. I don't have a real birthday, so it kind of takes up the whole week, which keeps me from feeling like it's really my birthday at all. It doesn't help Laura couldn't make it home for the dinner we are having tonight that is a birthday celebration and an Oscars party. I mean, she'll be here for tomorrow and Tuesday, but Leslie already made it clear she can't celebrate those days because of work. Not to mention, my Tuesdays are ungodly long. I was away for her birthday too. It just makes me wonder will we ever get to celebrate both our birthdays together again? I mean, I guess that's how growing up works--we move away from people we love and have to settle with meeting new people and only seeing the people we love from our past once in a while. Everyone gets wrapped up in their own circles (new families/spouses/partners) and those people get priority over old relationships. I'm slowly dealing with it. I've already seen this sort of change with April and Evan since they've had a baby. When they are home, their families want to spend as much time as they can with the baby and them, so it just happens naturally that I don't see them much anymore. It's not anyone's fault or something I take personal, because I know that's just the nature of aging. One positive thing is that I'm incredibly excited to spend an entire week with them starting one week from tomorrow. I, of course, miss them and wish we could spend more time together, but now the time I do have with them, is something I treasure greatly.

It's the same thing with Dawn and Kristin living in different states (countries sometimes). Those girls are some of my closest friends, and I miss them terribly. Yet, our friendship has evolved over the years from seeing each other every day to an occasional e-mail or phone call on birthdays or holidays. Despite feeling grief every time I say goodbye to them, I have adjusted to them not being a part of my immediate contacts.

Not all change is bad. For example, Alicia's fiance, James, hung around with us when we visited Alicia this weekend, and they both gave me a birthday gift from the two of them. I realized that now that they are getting married, James will be always be a part of our circle of friends. At first that feels a little threatening, but I like James, and I think we all have fun together. Plus, it's nice to see Alicia so happy with him. Drew is getting married, too. I like her fiance, Patrick, a lot, so it has been a sort of similar transition at viewing them both as close friends to me instead of just thinking about him as Drew's boyfriend.

Despite having the birthday/Sunday blues about aging, changed relationships/locations, (not to mention my "boyfriend" who doesn't know it's my birthday and I haven't seen since Valentines Day due to him being sick), I've had a lot of positive things this weekend.

Thursday night, Leslie, Tammy, and I all went out bar-hopping. At our favorite brewery, they let us drink free all night. Then, Tammy and Leslie bought any additional drinks for me at the other bars. It was a fun night and Tammy's little sister, Elizabeth, graciously drove us home. Then, Leslie let me come along to her cousin's place. Her cousin fed us great food, made us margaritas, and taught us a couple of fun new games. We also got to meet up with Alicia and James who then bought us lunch. Leslie bought me a fancy bagel this morning at this nice bagel shop Alicia and James took us too. Also, my friend Albert was supposed to come down, but due to the whether, we rescheduled for after Spring Break. He surprised me by remembering my birthday, sending birthday wishes and even saying he has a gift. So in reality, everyone spoiled me for my birthday this weekend--not to mention, the real celebration is tonight. We will do a dinner party with cake and all. Plus, I'm looking forward to watching the Oscars. I like Anne Hathaway and James Franco, and I'm, of course, rooting for Natalie Portman to win best actress :)

I shouldn't complain of the birthday blues when my "real" birthday is somewhere between tomorrow and Tuesday. My boyfriend could surprise me (unlikely) and who knows what Laura and I will do for it. I feel slightly guilty for feeling blue when so many loving people have been going out of their way to make my birthday special, so please don't feel this is complaining or unappreciative. I guess, I'm just trying to logically talk myself out of the blues by remembering all of the special things that did happen this weekend and might still occur. Plus, L.A. in one week. I can't wait for some sunshine, the city of angels, and great friends.

Well, my Cran Energy is now finished, and I feel the caffeine kicking in. I suppose it's time I tackle that paper.

Awakening

2011-02-18T00:22:00.003-05:00

The last few weeks have been educational in many ways. I booked tickets to LA to visit April and Evan because it was either that or no tickets to go on Spring Break at all. That resulted in drama because I could not afford to go see Laura. I don't want to blame anyone for that drama, because I know Laura and everyone else knows how much I'm dying to see her. It's just that I needed to go on Spring Break, and with the way things worked out, I needed to go to LA. Even though, I am sad to hear I won't see Laura, I am excited to spend a week with April and Evan. They are some of the most, educated and logical people I know. I think a week with them will not only be fun for us all, but a good time for me to sort things out. I need a break from the chaos of image, school, and relationships. I really don't have much to say on that, but my relationship history is not anything to be proud of, and it doesn't seem to be getting better.

In my psychology of women class, I learn so much. I don't even know where to start telling you all about it. I just know that I was already a feminist who believed in equality, but when I come out of this class every morning, I feel angry and politically charged. I feel like I could save the world sometimes after walking out of class. I know that's idealistic, but it's still nice to be reminded what kind of fight I am in and be able to look forward to the progress I am apart of. I already knew things weren't equal, but I'm being reminded of what kind of strides we need to take to reach that goal.

I have so much more to say, but little that is coming to mind now. Probably more to say this weekend. Thanks for reading what little reflection I have.

Famous Blue Raincoat

2011-02-11T21:01:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting in lisa's music room, listening to her and Nick play live music. I love the power of smooth live music. It has a power to take me to different parts of my mind. Earlier tonight, they played Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat." I forget what a beautiful songwriter he is. A lot of people don't even know he is the orignal "Hallelujah" writer, because Jeff Buckley's cover took off so much. I admit I like Buckley's version better, but the fact that Cohen wrote the lyrics and his sounds more Church-like is worthy of upmost respect. What a creative soul.

Right now, they are playing a Gillian Welch song "Revelator." They picked up the pace a bit, and I like it. I'm supposed to be wrapping up my second chapter of my memoir, but I keep staring at the screen. I'm not sure how to wrap up something so complicated. Instead, I asked lisa for her internet code, which I knew was a bad idea because I already went on facebook, email, and now I'm blogging. Although, blogging is better than staring at the screen. I'm at least translating thoughts into sentences. I suppose that's something.

Today, I went back to my high school to watch Ashlee walk on Winterfest Court. I'd been to the gym/auditorium area for other events Ashlee has been in, but today was the first time I went back into the actual school section. It was such a weird flashback. It had been five years since I walked those hallways. James is now a teacher amongst teachers who taught me. It was weird to see how small the high schoolers are. I mean, high school seems so big, so adult-like. I'd never go back to it. I saw former teachers, coaches, and counselors. They were all stoked to hear about my book project. It was weird telling them it was about struggling with mental health and spirituality, because I realized they don't know anything about my mental health or spiritual journeys. It's strange for me to think I've now been in college longer than I was in High School. College has gone so much faster--been so much less oppressive. I will be 23 this month. That's my favorite number (back from my soccer playing days). I hope that means I have a good year in store. Maybe I'll finish my book.

It's nice to be at home. I went out to lunch today with Mom and we had good conversation, which we don't get to do often. Dad and I shared some chai tea after dinner, and I'm also enjoying catching up with lisa and Nick. Tomorrow, I'm supposed to even see the famous Adam D. I can't wait. I haven't seen him in far, far too long. He's the kind of friend where when we're together, we're the best of friends, but when we are apart, we lose all contact. I have no idea what's been going on in his life since September, and he knows next to nothing about mine. He's heard about the nun thing through the grapevine, but I am looking forward to talking to him about it tomorrow. I'm looking forward to a big hug from him too.

Tomorrow, I'm going with Ashlee to get her tattoo. I'm going to ask about how and when can I get mine touched up. The purple is faded on the bottom side. It doesn't bother me much, because I don't really ever see that side of my wrist. Just for when people ask about it, though, it will be nice to have it bright all the way around. Then, in the evening is the ceremony where they crown the Winterfest king and queen. I don't know if Ashlee will win, but I hope she's not too concerned about it. Popularity in high school does not amount to anything in real life. In fact, I'd say most of my friends now were not popular in high school. I think most of my friends were too ahead of their time and cool for high school. I wish I would have been one of those kids, but I survived it all eventually.

Enjoy some beautiful lyrics!

Famous Blue Raincoat by Leonard Cohen

It's four in the morning, the end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.

I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You'd been to the station to meet every train
And you came home without Lili Marlene

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody's wife.

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane's awake --

She sends her regards.
And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad you stood in my way.

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear

-- Sincerely, L. Cohen

Dreams

2011-02-05T13:23:00.003-05:00

Tuesday was the longest, worst day that I have had in a long time. I had a snow day on Wednesday that allowed me to recover by sleeping most of the afternoon away and catching up on writing for my independent study. Wednesday proved to be a wonderful day compared to Tuesday. Tuesday was just a wreck because I stayed up until 2:30 doing papers that were due Tuesday, and then I had to wake up at 7:30 to drive Leslie to work, so I could take her car to my appointment that afternoon. The roads were horrible, and it was not only a day where I was on-the-go from 7:30 am until 9pm, but it was a day where I was in high-stress, borderline panic-inducing states all day long. My hands already shake from one of my medications, but when I add sleeplessness, caffeine, and little time to eat on top of it, my hands were shaking so bad that I could barely hit the right numbers on the microwave. It was just a mentally draining day. Ever since Tuesday, I have been sleeping a lot. The kind of sleep that I just keep falling in and out of all day long. This has been especially scary, because I am having scary, complex, and incredibly realistic dreams. It has even got to the point where I can't remember what's from real life and what's from my dreams. Most of the confusion is just little things...for example, yesterday I could have sworn that I took out our bathroom trash. I was over-heated from my electric blanket, so I thought I took out my trash and stood outside by the trash can for a minute to cool off. I then remembered, telling my roommate I did this. Later in the day, I went into our bathroom and the trash was still overflowing. I asked my roommate if I had talked to her about it, and she looked at me as if I was crazy. Little things like that are less serious, but when it starts to leave me wondering on much bigger situations, it gets scary.

The dreams are all so far-fetched and extreme. I can't seem to find any common threads in situations, characters, or scenery. The only thing that seems to connect them all is paranoia, grief, anxiety/panic, and shame. Last night, I was afraid to go to sleep. Plus, I had slept on and off all day, so I wasn't tired. My allergies were bothering me, and I was wide awake still at 3:30, so I took a Benodryl. Luckily, I didn't have any dreams that were too intense last night. I'm thinking maybe they were just a result of the extreme stress on Tuesday. I'm hoping they were just stress-dreams, but scary nonetheless.

My acid reflux cough is back again. I gotta figure out a way to keep this under control. It's expensive to keep buying the over-the-counter stuff. I wish it was still a prescription so my insurance covered it. When I cough, I can taste a metallic type flavor, which I'm guessing is just the stomach acid, but I'm not sure. I probably should be eating better, but it's hard with all of the stress in my life and the joy I find in eating everything that is bad for it.

My other theory on the dreams is that I'm just watching too many weird movies, and getting sucked into all of the books I'm reading along with the mixing of the fiction and non-fiction I'm writing. I'm in a very strange place. I hope this week goes much smoother.

Language

2011-01-28T13:51:00.002-05:00

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

2011-01-27T08:07:00.002-05:00

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

2011-01-22T18:21:00.009-05:00

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

2011-01-19T17:57:00.004-05:00

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

2011-01-17T13:11:00.007-05:00

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

2011-01-15T17:50:00.002-05:00

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

2011-01-12T13:09:00.002-05:00

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

2011-01-10T13:36:00.003-05:00

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

2011-01-05T14:19:00.008-05:00

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

2011-01-05T14:04:00.004-05:00

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

2011-01-01T16:23:00.003-05:00

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 :)

Sundays

2010-11-14T23:00:00.002-05:00

It's another gloomy Sunday. I walked the twenty-minute walk to and from the gym this morning, listening to rainy day music instead of the usual workout music--the wind cutting through my sweatshirt and tiny raindrops painting the sidewalk.

I had a nice weekend. I ran a writing workshop Friday morning. Went out for Tammy's birthday Friday night. Spent the day at the coffee shop with some new friends from my religion class, and spent last night with a book under a blanket. Today, I did some (although very little) homework at the coffee shop chatting it up with different acquaintances and friends. I even chatted a bit with my religion prof, which was nice. I like getting to talk to professors one-on-one. They all seem to live such interesting lives.

School has been really hard for me lately. I skipped three classes last week, because I felt like I was getting sick and the week just seemed to daunting to get through. My doctor said not to be alarmed, because I don't skip classes often, and it's getting to be that time in the semester where it takes extra discipline to attend class. I've always been such a serious student, but lately, I'm having trouble caring. My therapist says she's amazed that I am even able to continue to going to school after all of the years I spent performing for everyone else. Now, I'm done jumping through hoops for people, and that is essentially all school is--jumping through hoops.

This time of year is normally very difficult for me. The decrease in sunshine, the cold that comes sweeping in, the increased in academic pressure, and the memories of past falls spent crazy...they're all hard to cope with. I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job this fall, though. I'm working out, eating okay, still sleeping too much, but what can you do? At least I am sleeping. I would much rather sleep too much than not enough. I felt like I might be in a creative mindset tonight, so I tried to work on my book, but I just stared at the screen. I'm kind of stuck. Having a professor help me along will be nice. I figured blogging was somewhat of a compromise, so here I am, updating you all :)

Writing a Book, or something of the sort

2010-10-24T21:01:00.002-04:00

I've decided to use my portfolio (30 pages) toward a book. I think I could also use pieces of some of my published essays toward it as well. I desire to write a book about my mental health journey mixed with a mostly rocky-at-best search for spirituality.

I'm writing here, because I'm stuck again. What's so tricky is that I've worked very hard to polish those thirty pages. So now, starting all over with a blank page to compare only to some of my best work is discouraging. I've discovered I remember life in the form of conversations and dialogue. I often have been complimented on my ability to construct real life dialogue in my essays, and I am now beginning to believe that is just the way I remember things. I think about what other people say, and what I say to them, a lot. I'm constantly worried about saying something dumb, which I do so often, yet it's not nearly as traumatic as it sounds. I'm also interested in others ideas about life, so I recall serious, in depth conversations pretty well. I am thankful for that. However, it is frustrating because now I am only writing down random conversations, and I have to figure out how to develop the scenes and put them in some sort of logical order. Creative non-fiction is so challenging, but I love it. It is difficult to stay true to life, yet compose an interesting story with a beginning, middle, and end. I'm not complaining, because I really do enjoy it. It's just frustrating some days, and tonight is one of those days.

Like a Prayer

2010-10-13T20:56:00.003-04:00

Madonna's "Like a Prayer" came on randomly on my ipod today, and I smiled blatantly while walking to class. I have so many fun memories to that song--dancing as a kid, dancing with Joe, surrounded by writers at AWP in Chicago, and just plain singing along with friends in the car. I like happy songs.

I'm at the library, supposed to be working on my Religion class midterm, but I don't have the necessary reading material to begin. So now, I'm just wasting time on the internet. Our midterm is going to be a debate over the movie "Religulous" by Bill Maher. I own the movie, so I'm a little upset that I had to pay $4 to rent it up here because I left it at home. In order to prepare for the debate we have to answer four questions--all a page each. He said to allow ourselves four hours to work on it. If I don't work on it tonight, I probably won't get to until this weekend, which will put a damper on being home. I'm looking forward to going home, though. Also, I'm attending Drew's birthday party on Friday. It is a seventies theme party, so I am looking forward to wearing my tie-dye and hippie-ish headband.

I thought I was in a writing mood, but now that I am typing, I am not. So here is my short blog. I'm out.

Dreamin' of the Future

2010-10-12T20:39:00.002-04:00

I've been talking to a lot of people about graduate school. If I can get funding, I will stay here at Central--and chances are, I'll get funding. This would allow me two years to remain in an academic environment, write under professors, and mature a bit before moving out of state. I want to use the material from my portfolio toward a book. A book takes more than two years to write, so I plan to work hard on the book as a part of my graduate thesis here, and then get into an MFA program (which by then, I could hopefully get into either a really competitive school or get funding at another) where I could polish up the book and prepare to send out to editors.

I already paid the $75 application fee at U-AZ, so I will still apply there, and if I get funding, I would consider going. However, the chances of me getting both accepted and funding at the young age of 23 (I'll be 23 by then) is rare. Plus, even if I rush into an MFA program, everyone talks about the tough slap in the face after those two years. One professor said, "Every writer has to pay his or her time. It just depends on whether you want to wait tables and write on the side or stay in school and write." I think I'd rather stay in school, as romantic as waiting tables in New York, struggling to pay the rent sounds.

Today two boys in my poetry class told me I looked nice. The one is a bit flamboyant and said, "OH you look nice today," and the other one is a big guy with long hair, a beard, and tattoos all up his arm, and he said, "I was thinking the same thing." This was especially a compliment because I was not wearing any make-up. Plus, I had my glasses on. I feel most "me" when I have my glasses and no make-up on. I felt like they were saying the real me is beautiful. It mean a lot. I was dressed decent and had one of my hippie headbands in with my hair scrunched, but it was a very low-maintenced day. I've been so tired all the time, it's hard to get motivated to look nice, when all I do is contemplate when my next nap is. I'm at work, and my shift is almost up, so I'm out :)

A Beautiful Fall Day

2010-10-09T01:15:00.003-04:00

Wake Up!

2010-09-27T13:23:00.004-04:00

I just bought the new John Legend and the Roots album "Wake Up!" It is all covers from the sixties and seventies about issues of social and political importance. I'm so glad I went out and bought the album instead of downloading it from itunes. Not only is it cooler to have the actual CD and CD case, but the booklet has cool reflections on what they are trying to do with this album, and how our generation is so apathetic and our musicians (I think they are targeting pop and hip-hop) aren't saying anything about initiating change. They include a quote from Nina Simone, "it's the job of an artist to reflect the times." The album was first thought of after Obama's presidential bid. They've been working away, uncovering old protest soul, and they came up with this album. I think it's a great way to introduce social justice to a new generation that needs to wake up.

Speaking of waking up, I have a really hard time getting out of bed every day. I sleep ten hours a night, and I never feel rested. I go to the doctor tomorrow, so we shall see what happens.

I'm sitting here with wet hair even though I have class in half an hour, which means I need to leave in fifteen minutes, yet I'm blogging. It's warm enough I can just put my hair up or wear a hat for this class and do my hair after class. Today is a day I don't care what I look like. I am wearing jeans and a t-shirt, no make up, and I'm sporting wet hair. I like having these days once in a while. Days where I'm just naturally me. It makes me want to sip tea and journal all afternoon, but instead I have class, a break, class, and then a meeting. Talk about creatively stifling.

I heard this awesome author speak about his book. He talked about how sometimes you have to sacrifice for your writing--even if that means not necessarily giving 100% to school. He went to Central for his MA before getting his MFA. He recommended I consider it, if I can get it paid for because that will buy me two extra years to just write and work on a book. Then, I will get some teaching experience and possibly be able to get into an even more competitive MFA program--where I could then put the finishing touches on a book to publish. I'm considering it.

I've been reading lots of poetry, which is nice. It always makes me more observant of little things. A friend of mine and I e-mail each other poems back and forth, which is always a nice surprise. I love that horses one I posted. The images are amazing. I am looking forward to presenting it to my class on Thursday. I get ten minutes to talk about the technique, lines, sounds, etc... basically I just get to gush over how much I love it.

I don't have much more to say, and I need to go to class, but I would much rather sit here, reflecting. Ugh the life of a student.

A Pretty Poem I'm Presenting in Class this Week

2010-09-26T23:41:00.003-04:00

I saw this woman perform this poem at a writing conference. She has horses tattooed on her arm and said she had a vision of her horse that told her to stop drinking, so she listened to it. Amazing, huh? What a beautiful soul.

She Had Some Horses

by Joy Harjo

She had some horses.

She had horses who were bodies of sand.

She had horses who were maps drawn of blood.

She had horses who were skins of ocean water.

She had horses who were the blue air of sky.

She had horses who were fur and teeth.

She had horses who were clay and would break.

She had horses who were splintered red cliff.

She had some horses.

She had horses with eyes of trains.

She had horses with full, brown thighs.

She had horses who laughed too much.

She had horses who threw rocks at glass houses.

She had horses who licked razor blades.

She had some horses.

She had horses who danced in their mothers’ arms.

She had horses who thought they were the sun and their

bodies shone and burned like stars.

She had horses who waltzed nightly on the moon.

She had horses who were much too shy, and kept quiet

in stalls of their own making.

She had some horses.

She had horses who liked Creek Stomp Dance songs.

She had horses who cried in their beer.

She had horses who spit at male queens who made them afraid of

themselves.

She had horses who said they weren’t afraid.

She had horses who lied.

She had horses told the truth, who were stripped

bare of their tongues.

She had some horses.

She had horses who called themselves, “horse.”

She had horses who called themselves, “spirit,” and kept

their voices secret and to themselves.

She had horses who had no names.

She had horses who had books of names.

She had some horses.

She had horses who whispered in the dark, who were afraid to speak.

She had horses who screamed out of fear of the silence, who

carried knives to protect themselves from ghosts.

She had horses who waited for destruction.

She had horses who waited for resurrection.

She had some horses.

She had horses who got down on their knees for any savior.

She had horses who thought their high price had saved them.

She had horses who tried to save her, who climbed in her

bed at night and prayed as they raped her.

She had some horses.

She had some horses she loved.

She had some horses she hated.

These were the same horses.

Little Droplets

2010-09-21T17:05:00.003-04:00

Things are going well. Just okay most days, but what really excites me is that I have good days--days where I can stop and think, "today was a good day." Poetry has been going okay. The portfolio is in the getting-feedback-stage. I think it's important I keep my creative outlets open.

Last Thursday, I had a great day. There was no particular reason, and it was a rainy day. I left early for everything, when normally I am power-walking, running late. I walked slowly with my pink polka dot umbrella (thanks, Mom). I was reminded how beautiful our campus is. There were little droplets hanging from leaves and flower petals. I listened to jazz music and enjoyed the rain.

The apartment is much homier this year. We have plenty of seating in the living room, and I just bought a great Beatles poster. It's not one of the cliche ones, but instead it's of the four of them dressed up in suits. John and Paul are shaking hands and laughing Plus, Leslie bought some modern looking flowers with feathers in the back ground. We have Buddha sitting on top of my carefully organized book shelf, and a nice dining room table. My friend that claims she can feel people's energy says that both my apartment and I have a new energy. She says I look like a completely different person than I was. I don't know if I believe in reading energies, but she sure is right about me being a totally different person than I was a year ago.

A Poem for the Soul

2010-09-14T19:43:00.000-04:00

Note to Slip in Your Pocket, Never Slipped

by Erica Wright

Did your mother ask when you'll bring a wife,
purse her lips until they disappeared?
Did you show her the ceramic bird

then shut it away with the other
birthday gifts? You say you're better
off than most married folks you know,

and I want to toss off,
let's you and me make a go of it.
You can fill your truck bed with hydrangeas.

I'll dig their holes with my hands.
Then again, to be honest, I don't much care
for dirt, so let's scratch the whole thing,

can't we? I never told you about the night
your friend sang to me as I clutched
his infant son in my lap and asked

when's Susan getting back from her sister's.
As if my refusal had anything
to do with him, he shrank and snapped,

you're holding him wrong.
I don't know how to hold anything.
I'm trying to say I've only done one thing right,

and that was leave. I'm trying to say
I can show you how if you'd like.
Step one: let your wings grow back;

ignore the sores they make
on your shoulder blades; welcome
the dun-colored feathers and infection.

Music

2010-08-31T21:40:00.002-04:00

I'm back in a poetry class, which causes me to obsess about language. I listen for all of the rhythm, rhyme, assonance, and alliteration , not to mention, just the plain music of poems. I have a beginners back ground in music from my middle school days of playing clarinet, but I want my poetry to be more musical.

Switching back and forth from non-fiction to poetry is incredibly challenging, but they're good for each other. It's important to make my prose more lyrical and to help my poems become more personal and intense.

I finished my final incomplete. You can bet, the hallelujah choir was singing after I finished that.

Tomorrow, I have my first therapy appointment. It will be good to catch up with my therapist, although, I still want to ask about only going every other week. Every week is such a time commitment. It's just another appointment I have to keep. We'll see what she thinks of my decision to be a little more independent though.

Ah I'm Back

2010-08-20T23:20:00.003-04:00

After much silence and terrible internet, I am back to blogging.

I spent my last week at home in North Carolina with Laura. It was a wonderful get away. I finished my homework and spent lots of quality time with Laura and the Ocean. The downside was that I did not get to say goodbye to anyone in Adrian. I missed my first flight home, and the second one was so delayed that it would cause me to miss my connecting flight. I had to stay a whole extra day in North Carolina, which proved to be a lot of fun with Laura, but it gave me very little time when I got home to prepare to leave for school.

I am having trouble staying motivated for this final exam I have to take on Thursday. It's hard to try when I feel like I've already failed it. I'm going to start fresh tomorrow, though. Tomorrow will be a study day.

Ray called tonight. It was nice just to chat with him. He has moved to Florida, and due to his extensive MFA program, he will not make it home until Christmas. I'm nervous to start applying for grad schools. They're all so far away from home. I suppose I gotta grow up sooner than later.

I'm looking forward to classes starting. It will be so nice to be a normal student again with no incompletes to worry about. I am also looking forward to returning to work this semester. My bosses seemed happy to have me back, which I am thankful for.

I have been sleeping a lot. I'm still twitching a lot, despite my doctor adjusting my meds. I am frustrated, because I think I might be sleeping so much because the twitching interrupts my sleep.

Something

2010-08-05T21:47:00.002-04:00

This is something. Anything. An entry. I don't know what to say. I said goodbye to my kids today, and it was very sad. They gave me lots of hugs and all said they would miss me. One of the cutest little girls said, "I'm going to miss you a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot." It was adorable.

I'm sick of trying so hard to make change and seeing little results. I'm frustrated with therapy. I feel like I'm ready to start decreasing the amount of times I attend. I'm learning to change my thoughts, which is promising.

I guess that's it for now. Things are decent. I gotta finish my incomplete. BOoo.

Journal

2010-07-25T21:25:00.003-04:00

I took on the challenge of journaling every day this week for writer's group. I haven't yet written since Thursday night, so this is my journal for today. It's sort of a slacker's journal, but I don't want to waste pen and paper for this.

I have to wake up at 5 tomorrow to ride a morning bus. I had a little too much fun Friday, so I slept until noon today since I didn't get to recover yesterday. Therefore, going to bed early will be difficult.

Yesterday, I went to Ryan's wedding reception. It was so nice to see him and the rest of the S. Dakota group. I overslept, making them all wait, which never fails to make me feel like the worst human being alive. I'm so thankful they waited for me, though. I really enjoyed my time with everyone.

I look forward to every weekend while I'm working, but when the weekend comes, that's generally when my depression acts up. Maybe because I have time for it to flare up? I always feel lousy on weekends mood wise. It's hard to get out of bed.

Today, I hung out with friends from High School, and it was so nice to see all of them. It was Dawn, Dashon, Cristina, and Kristin's mom (since Kristin is in Chile). I've missed them all a lot. They make me feel apart of a separate family. It's good to feel like I belong in different circles.

Still looking good...

2010-07-21T21:56:00.002-04:00

Things are looking good. I like my therapist. I'm making progress in my long, dry book I'm required to read for my incomplete. I'm being mindful of two positive thoughts every day, and I am writing again. Plus, Groove Adam is home, and it's nice to spend time with him. I'm content right now. Glad to be alive.

Positive

2010-07-16T20:21:00.002-04:00

Looking back at the number of blogs I put out per year, I can't help but notice I only had 39 entries in 2009. I guess, that's the year of the hospitalizations. Actually, there were very little positive things about 2009--now that I think about it. That is probably why I didn't want to blog. I didn't have much to say except dark, repetitive thoughts.

I'm struggling to keep up with blogging this summer. I think it's because I still don't have a lot of positive things to say. I'm struggling away with my incomplete, work, and writing seems impossible these days.

One thing that has been helping me is that Laura and I ask each other what are two positive thoughts we had every day. Now, I'm beginning to be more mindful of paying attention to those rare thoughts. It's important to give the positive thoughts more power than the negative, but our culture does the opposite. I'm guilty of remembering more negative things than positive.

So, ordinarily, I'd say today was just mediocre. But, really it was a good day. No major drama at work. The kids got to go swimming. I had tamales for breakfast. I worked out after work, and visited my grandpa. I have a feeling in the future, I will look back on a day like today and miss it. I love my job and my kids, which is easy to forget when they're all whining and shouting, "Aimee!" because they want my attention at the same time. I also feel fortunate for the time spent with my grandpa. We don't talk much when I'm there, but just sitting with him is nice.

Two positive thoughts I had today: This is a good morning and this is a good day.

One Hell of a Hot Day

2010-07-07T19:03:00.002-04:00

Today was in the upper nineties. That's hard to deal with inside of a school building with no windows and no air conditioning. We had to switch classrooms this year. Our program now occupies the other half of the building, which happens to be the hottest side. When walking from one side to the other, there was a 10-15 degree change. My shirt was soaked, and I had trouble staying awake all day even though I went to bed early.

Work is going well. The kids are challenging this year. We have a young group with little schooling, so we are working on very basic things like writing names and such... One little girl tells me I'm beautiful almost every day. She doesn't even remember my name. She just says, "Teacher, you're so beautiful." Needless to say, I love her.

I had a wonderful vacation to the Outer Banks. I visited Laura, and was reminded how much I miss her. I've never had a friend I am so close with, so I was reminded how thankful I am for her friendship. We talked about how much we have been through together and how strong our friendship is as a result of such struggles.

Leslie, Alicia, and Alicia's boyfriend, James, drove down and met us there. It was nice to experience such wonderful things with so many close friends. I saw dolphins, went kayaking, and hang gliding.

Hang gliding was freeing. I went tandem with a professional, so I could ride up 2,000 feet and be released. I also was able to go alone while supervised by an instructor off of a sand dune. I didn't go very high or very far, but it felt like a dream. I was flying. I crashed pretty hard the one time, and scraped my shin on the control bar. I have a nice scrape/bruise to prove it.

Another Sunday Night

2010-06-27T22:22:00.002-04:00

Sunday nights always make me anxious. I am excited to start work tomorrow. The kids don't start until Tuesday, and I can't wait. Those kids give me an unquestionable reason for living for six weeks. I feel needed, loved, and appreciated by the most innocent little tykes. I really do love them.

I have an appointment at my new therapist's tomorrow. I'm a little nervous. Starting over is always a pain, but new perspectives are always worth it.

Tonight I feel like writing, but the words don't look as beautiful as normal. They aren't flowing out all tied nicely together, but instead they are choppy and crooked. I'm pausing for too long at every punctuation mark, but my thoughts aren't cold tonight.

I haven't been able to see many of the people I would like to lately. April and Evan have been in town off and on, but they have been really busy. Now, I am really busy, so it's hard to sync our schedules. Adam is working a lot. I was supposed to meet up with him and Sista Ashley, but he never called. I am sure work is wearing him out. I miss him, though. I miss these people so much because they engage in meaningful conversations. I get so sick of talking about the weather all the time.

Wednesday, I am flying out to see Laura. It has been hard to be apart for so long since we used to hang out every day. I'm so excited to spend plenty of time with her, enjoy the ocean, and soak up some sun. I'm a little nervous to fly alone, but it will be good for my confidence. I'm proud that I am not letting fear get in the way of an awesome vacation. It doesn't make me any less nervous, though. I can do it. I know I can. I just have to remember that positive self-talk.

Update

2010-06-24T18:45:00.003-04:00

I don't have much to update. I start work Monday, which I am really looking forward to. However, that means summer will be over before I know it, and I am certainly not ready to finish my final incomplete. I'm so frustrated by this class because I am expected to teach myself everything I missed from not being in class, and my brain just does not remember names, dates, and arabic words. It really is a nightmare. Reading from the book I'm supposed to do a report on nearly sent me into paralysis. I just keep trying to remind myself that the other incompletes were hard to finish too, and somehow, I pulled those off. Never have I been this scared that failing is possible, but I have to try to pass with everything I have. The problem is, I've been making this class my life. If I fail, I have to remember that life goes on, and I will recover from it. I have this "end-of-the-world" mindset that failing is like death, and that's so not true. I'm just going to do my best, but not let it affect my health.

I haven't skateboarded since Laura moved away. I just don't have the desire. Skating alone isn't nearly as fun. Not to mention, it's been hot and I've had trouble getting motivated to do anything.

I see a new therapist on Monday. I'm a little nervous, but I'm going to try really hard to make progress instead of regressing. I guess, that's all I have to say for now. Oh and in less than one week, I get to visit Laura in NC where I will get to go hang gliding and dolphin watching. It's like my dream come true.

Some Summer

2010-06-08T23:18:00.002-04:00

I've experienced a taste of summer. I went tubing down the river with my friends at school; I've been skateboarding a lot, and I am now living back at my parents'. I'm feeling restless. Partially because I don't have anything I NEED to do, but I have a lot of stuff I SHOULD be doing. That's a horrible combination. I just keep procrastinating and feeling guilty about not getting any work done. I have been working out though. I'm more out of shape than I've ever been. It's hard mentally--to adjust to my new limitations. It's like having a new disability. You want to be able to function like you used to, but it's just not possible for me to go out and jog a couple miles like it's nothing anymore. I'm hoping to lose the weight my medicine made me gain last year. I don't take that medication anymore, so I hope losing the weight won't be impossible.

My best friend, Laura, moved away to North Carolina. Saying goodbye was so heartbreaking, although, I will say my last month with her was wonderful. We did a great job at taking advantage of whatever time we had left together. Also, I bought a plane ticket to go see her over the fourth of July weekend. I can't wait to see her and be able to do fun things at the ocean. We should be able to go hang gliding and dolphin watching. How exciting! It's nice to have something to look forward to. It made saying goodbye easier, too. I bought the plane ticket the day before she left so that I could know I would see her again soon. I'm used to her living three blocks away and seeing her every day. This being far away will take some getting used to.

I haven't wanted to blog because I'm feeling distant. My therapist pointed out that I am a very guarded person. I don't mean to be that way. I don't know why I'm that way, but it's true. I don't let many people get to know me well. I'm difficult to get to know. That's really all I have to say about that right now. I'll try to blog more. It's hard to blog when I'm doing next to nothing every day.

Looking Back

2010-05-22T14:35:00.002-04:00

1. Stay out of the hospital

2. Use healthy coping strategies

3. Be more forgiving of myself

4. Conquer the ramp that broke my arm

5. Lose the ten pounds my meds made me gain

6. Continue to work hard in therapy

7. Finish books I start

8. Finish my poetry portfolio

9. Complete my incompletes

10. Be more assertive, making a conscious effort not to feel guilty about it

These were my New Years Resolutions. So far I have stayed out of the hospital, used healthy coping strategies, conquered the ramp that broke my arm (Yeah! Still excited about that one). Continued to work hard in therapy, finished four books, finished my poetry portfolio, completed all but one incomplete, and been somewhat more assertive. I'm doing well.

2010-05-09T17:06:00.003-04:00

I'm sort of done with school. I have until Wednesday to finish my Spanish incomplete and until the end of summer to finish my History incomplete. It feels good to have the worst over with. It's shockingly cold up here these days. It makes it hard to play outside, although, I must say I have enjoyed some time to sleep and read for fun. I'm re-reading Marya Hornbacher's book, Madness. It's about her life with bipolar disorder. It's written so raw and honest; it inspires me to write like that. I'd like to start a book this summer, and yes, I understand writing a book can take ten years. That's why I figure I better start now.

My therapist says I'm a bit more guarded now than when I first came to her fresh out of the partial hospitalization program. I think that's because in partial, having mental illness isn't associated with a flaw of character. As I have relearned to function in the real world, I also have relearned to repress my feelings. I am trying to be more mindful and less guarded. Even Jordan mentioned that it's okay to let myself be vulnerable. I'm bad at that. I am much more comfortable and unguarded in my writing. Maybe my guard up correlates with the fact that I haven't had time to write. Maybe I lost that connection somewhere--of being able to decipher what I feel.

I had an intense therapy session on Thursday where I realized I don't know what I feel about things very often. I get my feelings confused and they're so repressed, I don't know how to read the pure emotion that triggered whatever mess I may be feeling like.

Sundays are such a downer day. I feel pretty good because I conquered my awful week, but there is still that hint of Sunday loneliness on the horizon.

Bird by Bird

2010-04-26T22:45:00.002-04:00

As Anne Lamott says, I'm taking it Bird by Bird. She talks about her brother doing this crazy overwhelming Bird Project when they were younger. Her brother was freaking out and their dad said, "Just take it bird by bird." I thought I'd be up all night doing this long paper, but I am at a stopping point where I only need to type 400 more words. That's nothing compared to what I've already typed. I am stuck, which is a problem, but even if I don't make it to the desired word count, I am at a place where I won't fail this paper. It's a huge paper, and it's worth a lot. I am so overwhelmed that I can't realistically shoot for success. I just need to get by, so I'm taking it bird by bird. Paper by paper, book by book, exam by exam, incomplete by incomplete. It makes me feel like I can't breathe if I think about all of that, so I don't. I think about it day by day.

It's hard to have much insight or passion when I'm so worn out. I apologize for not staying in touch with everyone like I would like to, but I am thankful for all of your support.

I'm trying to be optimistic even though school is crapping all over me right now. I can't wait for summer.

Endurance

2010-04-18T13:06:00.002-04:00

A few days ago, I chose not to do my homework. I went skateboarding instead. I was just feeling restless and burnt out, so I figured instead of staring at my homework and getting angry, I would do something healthy. I had a blast skateboarding alongside the river. I realized I'd even missed the muddy smell of the river. Water, especially rivers, can be so healing. The sound of the river running, mixed with the idea that the river is never the same. It's constantly changing.

Laura and I sat on some rocks on the side of the river. We sat in silence for a moment, and had the honor of witnessing a muskrat swim right in front of us. We were so quiet, it didn't even notice us. It was just leisurely swimming only a few feet in front of us. They are so cute, although their tails are kind of gross like a rat.

Not long after, I was boarding, but I stopped to wait for Laura. As I stood there, another muskrat was swimming leisurely. By the time I tried to show it to Laura, I had scared it away. They sure swim fast when they are scared. At that point, I figured the muskrat must be a symbol for something. I don't know how I feel about signs, but I know I'm not against them, so something so obvious as two muskrats being incredibly close to me could mean something. I e-mailed Jon to ask what the muskrat means. He said they mean endurance. Like a spiritual horoscope, I interpreted it several ways to fit into my life.

I was at the river because I was bogged down by school. I need endurance to push on through the rest of this semester. Also, Laura and I were talking about her moving away. I think our friendship will be fine, but maybe we needed a reminder that endurance can apply to a friendship as well.

As we boarded home, we passed three deer. They, surprisingly, were not scared away by our noisy skateboards. We stopped and enjoyed several moments of just staring at them. They stared back at us, waiting to see if we were a threat. Two joggers even ran past, but they didn't even notice the deer, and the deer were not afraid. It almost felt magical.

Well, I'm off to do my million pages of homework. Wish me luck :)

AWP Denver

2010-04-11T19:03:00.002-04:00

I'm back from my long weekend in Denver at a writing conference. It was even better than I expected it to be. I realized I need to be writing--no matter what the situation--must be putting pen to paper. It's a part of me. I lose myself if I stop writing. I haven't been writing at all this semester. I'm going to work harder to make time for it.

I met so many of my favorite writers and poets. Plus, I went to some exciting, informative break-out sessions. I wish I could write more, but I have to do math homework so I can go to bed. I've been up since 2am Denver time. Yuck. Need sleep.

Thinking Positive

2010-03-31T19:14:00.004-04:00

It has been brought to my attention my last several blogs have been pessimistic. It's easy to get stuck in that thought-process. Thanks to lisa, one of my writing teachers, I have been reminded what looking to others for guidance can do.

Today I am thinking of a young man from the hospital. He came into my room and gave me a cup of popcorn they had made in the kitchen--even though patients are not allowed in other patients rooms. It was a very kind gesture, because I was isolating myself in my room.

Every day, they had us set daily goals. His was always, "to stay thinking positive," which always made me laugh because it is so vague. They usually liked us to set goals that could be measured and achieved for confidence building. He was so upbeat about it. They'd say, "What's your goal for today?" He'd answer, "Just to keep it positive. I'm gonna stay positive."

I'm so overwhelmed with school work. I think that is what is contributing to my mood. I'm working hard though, and setting little goals. The weather is beautiful, and I feel free walking around coatless.

My goal for tomorrow is to be more positive. I'm just gonna stay positive :)

Voice

2010-03-27T11:30:00.006-04:00

It's easy for me to feel down sometimes about how I do not know how to be assertive. I blame the culture for this. Young girls are not taught how to be assertive. They are taught to be nice, polite, and to put themselves second. Sexism still exists, but I am really thankful to have a voice. I am always surprised by the acquaintances that tell me they read my blog. How fortunate am I to have a place to be heard? I just watched a film and heard the director speak about the youth in Iran. They are much more progressive than I thought, but they still have websites blocked by the government. I can be as political as I want on here and no one is going to stop me. What a beautiful thing freedom of speech is. I'm not very patriotic, but I am thankful to be in the United States.

When I get writers block, it's usually because I am tired of my voice. I realize women writers are still discriminated against in academia, but my creative writing professors are both men, and they are very supportive of my voice. They make me feel like I can and should be heard.

I still lose my voice from fear, but I wanted to celebrate being heard today. Thanks for reading and valuing my voice.

Get out of the Groove

2010-03-22T22:20:00.004-04:00

I saw my psychiatrist and psychologist today. And for that reason, it was quite a day. I feel distant. My therapist referred to this melancholy that I'm in as a groove in a record, where the needle gets stuck easier after being stuck once. So, I'm stuck. I'm stuck in the same groove I slide into so easily.

My doctor suggested I drop a class. He said he would write a note to help me get some of my money back, but I do not think that is a possibility. I can drop the class, lose the money, and feel lazy, or I can keep going but let the pressure kick me down like it has been. I'm tired all of the time. When I was talking about my incompletes with my therapist, I got really tired. She could tell, and said it seemed like my overwhelmed feeling shuts down my brain and makes me tired.

I guess, I will check it all out in the morning. If I can wake up before the class I'm dropping.

Something's Missing

2010-03-20T22:34:00.002-04:00

I haven't been writing for fun at all this semester. I've had too many papers and lots of homework. At first, it felt nice to have no pressure on me to be creative, but creativity is in my soul. If I go too long without a creative outlet, I get restless--depressed even. I feel a void in my life from not writing. It takes practice, though, and now that I've been away from it for so long, it is hard for me. Even if I allow myself some time to write, I just write a few sentences and quit. I am missing creative writing classes, peer reviewers, and deadlines. Not writing is good for me to help find balance in my life, but it's also bad for my mental health. I begin to feel like my life is meaningless. Writing allows me to reflect visually. It helps me find meaning in the mundane. I miss all my writing teachers. There's something really powerful about the relationship I have with my writing mentors. I feel understood when I have a writing mentor I really connect with.

I'm having trouble keeping up with school and making up work from last Spring. I don't know how they expect me to remember stuff from last Spring. It's just bad for my self-esteem to have all of these tasks I feel I'm not qualified for. I think life will start looking up after this semester. After this semester, I will have the worst behind me. I will be on a normal schedule; I won't have any work to make up. I will have creative writing classes again, and I will be looking into grad schools. The whole grad school thing could either be a huge dream-come-true, or a slap in the face. I plan on applying to some pretty prestigious programs. My professors have all been very supportive of me, leading me to believe I can get into a good program. Dream big, right? I'll be sure to include some smaller, back-up schools in my plan too. It's good to aim big, but I don't want to be unprepared either.

Sleep All Day

2010-03-12T23:14:00.002-05:00

I slept all day. I hate doing that. It leaves me feeling worthless, groggy, guilty, and just plain lazy. Now, I probably won't be able to sleep; although, I'm still tired...so maybe. I've been sleeping too much. I'm discouraged with a ten page paper I'm supposed to be working on about Zen Buddhism.

I feel contemplative this evening after watching "Precious." Unfortunately, not creative enough to put my thoughts into words. I haven't been writing much this semester. It's my first semester without a creative writing class in years. It's kind of nice to just totally step away from writing and focus on school. I mean, I miss it a lot, and maybe I'd be less stressed if I was writing. It's nice to be taking a break though.

This turned out to be pointless. I was hoping to take advantage of my creative/contemplative mood. Just not feeling language tonight.

Zen

2010-03-11T00:05:00.003-05:00

I'm writing a ten page paper on my favorite book The Great Failure and Zen Buddhism. It is driving me mad, but has also inspired a lot of good thought. I had to reread The Great Failure for the third time, and it never ceases to amaze me. I feel like it should be required reading for everyone. The way it emphasizes truth over everything is astounding.

I've also been reflecting on the way the word Zen has entered our Western vocabulary and is misused. There's a tea flavored "Zen" sold at Starbucks where people are too busy to even drink the damn tea in the coffee shop. The cup has to be "to go" so they can multi-task.

I think I want to be a Zen buddhist. I don't have the support or teachers in this area, but I'm the sort of person who loves religion and wants rituals and sacred spaces to cling to. I think Zen could one day fill that void in my life.

Woman Writer

2010-03-02T19:30:00.002-05:00

In my Canadian Literature class, we've done a lot of reading about women writers. The struggles women have had to endure just to have a voice. My professor is from Germany, and he talked about how he will have mediocre young men come tell him they are applying over seas to Oxford while young women who are exceptional don't intend to apply. Usually they don't think they are good enough to get in, or they figure if they did, it wouldn't work out anyway.

Although women writers have become more acceptable, they are still the minority in academic, high-class, well respected literature. Sure, there are a lot of pop women authors but their target audience is either young adults or other women (romance novels). Women are thought to be too emotional and sentimental to really dig into a story.

In Margaret Atwood's essay, "On Being a 'Woman Writer': Paradoxes and Dilemmas," she gives several great examples of discrimination. In one, she mentions how a hard-hitting novel by a man is realistic, and a hard-hitting novel by a woman is "gutsy" "hard" "mean." She also discusses the way we look at a successful female writer. We view her as exceptional and view them as asexual. She claims a woman writer is only called a woman writer until she becomes successful--then she is just a writer.

As a woman writer, I want to believe things are better than when Atwood published this essay in 1976. She is a successful woman writer, so I am thankful to have role-models like her or Joyce Carol Oates who both reflect on being both a woman and writer. It boils down to identity. As Atwood says, "Woman and writer are separate categories; but in any individual woman writer, they are inseparable."

I have to write a paper about women writers. I don't even know where to begin. Booo to midterm papers.

Birthday Reflection

2010-02-28T18:11:00.004-05:00

It's my birthday. Sort of. I have so much homework; I'm not even really sure where to begin. I wanted to take a moment to blog about how fortunate I feel to have such amazing friends. People were so thoughtful this year. People came out to my party that I hadn't seen in a while. A few friends drove long distances to make it out. People brought gifts--and really thoughtful ones at that. Drew got me this amazing 3-d frame. The photo is a landscape of S. Dakota, but in front of the photo is a toy buffalo. The buffalo is a Jesus-like figure in Lakota spirituality. Then, around the frame is a beautiful quote by the peaceful Chief Black Elk.

Tammy got me the second season of 30 Rock, which I am so excited to watch, a wonderful Yoga book, and sweetarts :) Rucha gave me different kinds of tea. Sailor's sister made me an adorable bag--like literally sewed me a cute handbag. It was such a surprise. I couldn't believe it. People bought me food, drinks, and gave me lots of hugs. I felt very loved. And then today, I'm feeling horrible because I just have more work than I can physically do, but Laura paid for me to get a massage from Tammy's sister, Elizabeth. It was just what I needed to help this negative mood I'm in due to school. A friend sent me a card that told me not to stress and, "there is so much more to life than school." I try to remind myself this because my perfectionism is just plain unhealthy with the circumstances I'm working under. It's so unrealistic for me to try and make up all of the work I missed last spring, in addition, to keeping up in my current classes. I'm working hard, though. I'm back to work. Just wanted to take a moment to reflect on how thankful I am--no matter how burnt out I may feel right now.

2010-02-23T20:42:00.002-05:00

I'm behind in school from last spring. I'm working incredibly hard to catch up in addition to staying caught up in my current classes. It leaves me running around frantically and often showing up a day late and a dollar short. I'm still trying, though. Hopefully a better blog to come soon.

I'm Back

2010-02-21T14:29:00.002-05:00

My cast is off, and I am typing with minimal wrist pain. This makes school and life easier. I intend to start blogging a bit more regularly again. It's been sunny the last couple of days, and I am thankful. This winter has not been as bad as last year, but I am still ready for spring. I was able to skateboard a bit with Jordan when he came up to visit on Thursday. It felt great. I can't wait for my wrist to heal and the snow to melt so I can hit the ramps again.

I'm amazed at the way time is flying. Soon, I will have to start attending classes from last spring to make up my work in there. I'm not looking forward to being that busy again. Monday, I am going to make up my first Spanish exam. I don't feel ready to take it, but I need to start digging into the workload in order to get credit for that class. I keep trying to remind myself that I don't need to get an A in every class. I think I'm even going to have to settle for a couple C's considering I am making up a third of my course work, which I have had to formal teaching for.

I don't like Sundays very much. I sleep late, feel groggy, stress about how much homework I have, try to do homework with a couple trips to the library, and never quite get ahead enough to relax. I'm tired. I'm at the library. I want to go home. I might just do that.

Still...

2010-01-31T21:18:00.002-05:00

I still have my cast. It's driving me nuts. I can't wait to get rid of it. I've been told I'm missed in the blogging world, so I will try to say something worth reading. I am feeling stable these days. My therapist says I'm improving, and my psychiatrist isn't changing my meds anymore. He also was seeing me twice a month, and because I am a little more stable, I will only see him once a month.

School has been interesting. It's my first semester since sophomore year that I don't have a creative writing class. I have a Canadian Lit. class. It's all contemporary stuff, so I actually enjoy reading the novels. It is helpful because the class involved a ton of reading. I have a math class, which I haven't had since my freshman year. Lastly, I am in a history class about the middle east. I feel like I'm in high school again because I have regular homework and am studying things I know nothing about. It's a bit refreshing, but I am also still trying to make up work from last Spring. I feel burdened down with those incompletes.

I guess this is my only update for now. I've been making typos--aka adding extra spaces to everything because my thumb is in a cast, which just bumps the space bar every time I try to type. It's been a real pain for typing in my passwords or websites.

Sorry to complain

2010-01-06T22:27:00.002-05:00

but being one handed is difficult. I feel like I can't do anything. I won't have a real entry for a while, at this rate. My cast is bulky and sometimes rubs against the incision when I type. Therefore, I don't type like I should. My apologies for not keeping in touch as well as I'd like with everyone. Don't take it personal. Hope this finds you all well.

New Years Resolutions

2010-01-01T12:59:00.002-05:00

1. Stay out of the hospital

2. Use healthy coping strategies

3. Be more forgiving of myself

4. Conquer the ramp that broke my arm

5. Lose the ten pounds my meds made me gain

6. Continue to work hard in therapy

7. Finish books I start

8. Finish my poetry portfolio

9. Complete my incompletes

10. Be more assertive, making a conscious effort not to feel guilty about it

Update

2009-12-28T12:35:00.002-05:00

I have failed to update as often as I'd like because I had to have emergency surgery on my wrist. I have a cast on and typing is frustrating. Hopefully I'll get better at typing with this cast soon. Hope you all are having a great holiday season!

They Say

2009-12-21T20:23:00.002-05:00

The Buddhists say if you're bored, you're boring. I think I believe in that for the most part. I've been restless lately, though, which could be a form of boredom. I sit around doing nothing. I try to write, read, draw, color, and even watch TV but I just get restless and am not amused by any of those things right now. I sleep a lot. I'm tired or restless. Where's the balance? I want to blame the medicine, but I think this is the depression and the meds just aren't working enough. It's frustrating. I'm losing interest in blogging as I write this. Maybe I will just go to bed really early. Who knows?

My Days and Nights

2009-12-20T18:03:00.004-05:00

My days and nights pour through me like complaints

and become a story I forgot to tell.

-From Marie Howe's poem Prayer

Awake. Mindful. One day I aspire to live in both of these mindsets. Unfortunately, with my current health, all I can seem to do is settle for getting by. Getting by usually means my days and nights are more like chores than gifts. I love that part of Marie Howe's poem, "Prayer," because that is how life slips by most people. We don't live in the moment. We complain about what we don't have instead of what we do have. I've been feeling really sorry for myself lately. I'm not going to put the actual complaints in writing. I don't want to give them that power. Most of them just involve how much effort it takes me to live and how a lot of other college students don't have to think about everything as much as I do. I also understand many college students have it worse than me. The depression doesn't think like that though.

My life is so different since the hospital. I hear people comparing stress loads, how many credits their taking, how many hours they work, how much homework they have, how many exams, how little sleep, etc... I used to be one of those people. Now, I can't even compete. I used to be jealous of the healthy people, thinking I would one day see some sort of "reward" or pat on the back about how I pushed myself to the limit. I discovered it doesn't work like that. I have a friend who just graduated in 3.5 years. He said he wished he wouldn't have pushed himself so hard so he could have enjoyed his time in school more. Now he doesn't even know what he wants to do.

That was my big epiphany after the hospital--I realized I was rushing and overworking myself. And for what? These were years of my life slipping away from me because I was waiting for some miraculous future that doesn't exist. Life is just as much the struggle to achieve our goals as is the actual achieving and celebrating. Plus, one can only celebrate so long before there needs to be new goals.

I'm going to the doctor about my wrist tomorrow. I fell off my skateboard exactly one month ago. I did have x-rays, and they said it wasn't broken. It's still bothering me quite a bit, so hopefully the doctor can help me in some way. I don't really know what they can do, but me trying to use it as if it is fine is not helping.

I've noticed the thing about blogging more regularly--I have less insightful things to say. Yet, I still try really hard to come up with some sort of purpose for a post. It's my blog. Who says I need a purpose? I will say that blogging is a form of writing, and the writing process usually slips in sentences and paragraphs of value in the middle of my two-cent entries. Insight appears in writing like it does in real life--slipped in between all of the mess, and it is up to the reader to decipher and use what wisdom is helpful to them. Who am I trying to impress, anyway? I have this blog because I like to encourage truth--telling and seeking.

I Don't Always Understand

2009-12-17T17:46:00.005-05:00

I don't always understand how things happen the way they do. Sometimes it's simple, and I just can't believe it. Sometimes it's complicated and I don't try to. I don't want to go into much detail, but a couple friends of a friend were not very nice about my hospitalizations. I chose to confront them and offer them the chance to respond or agree to silence. It's rather anti-climatic. We don't talk anymore. It's sad, but I don't wish them bad luck or anything like that. I hope they feel the same about me. I realize blogging about it is rather passive aggressive, but that is not supposed to be my point. It has nothing to do with the actual people. It's just that they have since made things difficult for our mutual friend and stopped talking to her. I like to think it has nothing to do with me, but I can't help but feeling like I caused a ruckus. I'm very new to standing up for myself, so the first time I do it, I have this negative reaction, and I instantly think I did something wrong. I don't understand how I did something wrong. I planned out everything I said in my confrontation. I was respectful. Yet, not only did I make people so angry at me they can't even say hello, but now, they won't even talk to my friend. It makes me sad because it hurts her a lot. The fact that I am blogging about this feels so elementary. It's not that I want to make anyone look bad; it's just that I am beginning to understand how little I understand things. Maybe that is a good thing to realize--to approach the world with humility. Like my favorite Michael Franti song says, "It seems like everywhere I go, the more I see, the less I know."

This world is hard enough. How does stubbornness and pride get in the way of love? We are all so worried about what we look like instead of just being honest. I understand honesty is hard. I just don't understand how there is ever any other option.

I'm Carrying My Spirit

2009-12-16T07:41:00.002-05:00

I'm listening to Paula Cole's "Me." It's a great song; I stole the title for this post from it. The whole song is about how she is her worst enemy and yet she is the only one who can save her. It's probably one of the best encouraging songs I know. That song doesn't really have a lot to do with this post, but I needed it to get the words flowing.

Marlee is lying in a ball at my feet. She woke me up at 5:45 this morning, crying because she had left a bone in my bed, which somehow got buried under my blankets. She was crying, digging, and burrowing under my covers. It was so cute that I was only slightly annoyed.

I slept most of yesterday away. I did make it to work out, though, thanks to my dad encouraging me to go with him. That finally woke me up (around 5pm). I hope it's not my medicine that's making me tired like that. I guess, I shall find out today. I haven't taken it yet because I'm not usually up this early. I feel awake now, so if I sleep all day again, I will know it's the meds.

I don't really have a point to this post, after all. I just want to blog a lot more than normal while I am home, have access to good internet, and no school.

Activism

2009-12-14T22:00:00.007-05:00

“A lot of people are waiting for Martin Luther King or Mahatma Gandhi to come back -- but they are gone. We are it. It is up to us. It is up to you.”--Marian Wright

I'm back. I went to my doctor today, and he decided to increase my medication slightly in hopes to reduce my depression. I am functioning, but still tired, apathetic, and depressed a lot. We are hoping that this final increase will make a difference. I'm doing better overall, though.

I watched a documentary called "The Cove." It was the first time I felt like a social activist again. It got me really fired up to make positive changes in the world. I was talking to my friend, Dashon, and we were talking about how vulnerable idealists are at our age. We either conform to society, destroy ourselves with chemicals, suicides, or self-doubt, or we fight. By fighting, I mean we stay alive. We believe in the good in humanity. We believe in love--even if we've seen too many examples of the opposite. If we can preserve our idealism, we are the people who can and will work to save the world.

I suppose idealists are "at risk" throughout life, regardless of age. It takes incredible strength, courage, and wisdom to remain idealistic enough to fight for positive changes when surrounded by so much apathy. What does emotional strength, courage, and wisdom mean to me? I use these words often, and I believe in seeking them with everything I have, but rarely to I get the chance to define them. I think we think of all of these extraordinary people, and decide we can't be like them, so we don't even try. Mother Theresa once said, "We can do no great things. Only small things with great love." I might not be another memorable leader in making positive changes in the world, but I will do what I can to leave this world better than I found it.

I was watching some Def Jam Poetry recently, and one of the poets said she believed she was strong for allowing herself to breakdown, crying puddles in her bathroom. She believed strength to mean being strong enough to fail and persevere, strong enough to breakdown, and strong enough to stand alone. Courage relates to this. One of my favorite quotes is something along the lines of, "Courage is doing what we are afraid of. There is no courage without fear." I like that because it acknowledges that being afraid does not make us weak. As for wisdom, I believe it to be the ability to listen, admit our ignorance, and accept gray areas.

I also watched a documentary on a woman who was a secretary for Hitler. She talked about Hitler the man, and it was weird. She talked about him being so proud of his dog, having a lot of digestion problems, not liking to be touched etc... I felt afraid to see the human in Hitler. I am horrified of hate and the result of hate. He was such a hateful person, does it mean I am doing something wrong by thinking of him as human? I can't answer that at this moment, but I believe remembering that the world doesn't function in black and white is helpful, and every day I work to achieve acceptance of such gray areas, which I believe to require wisdom.

I seek wisdom, courage, strength, integrity, and growth. These are the traits I value most. I believe the more I practice such traits, the more positive changes I will be able to make in the world.

NY Times Article on Pine Ridge Gang Issues

2009-12-14T21:57:00.002-05:00

I've been to Pine Ridge three times. I've met kids who are greatly impacted by this.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/14/us/14gangs.html?pagewanted=2&_r=2&hp

Just a little bit...

2009-12-04T20:34:00.002-05:00

I'm crazy busy. I'm busy. crazy. I am so proud of myself for getting through this past week. With the way I was feeling and all the pressure on me, I was certain I would break down and/or wind up in the hospital again. Exams is this coming week. I'm just going to do my best and not stress so much. I'm exhausted. It's hard to keep trying so hard. When this semester is over, though, I don't even know what I will do. The life of a college student is so unbalanced. Time is passing fast. I'll write more when I have time.

Things I'm Thankful For

2009-11-27T00:34:00.004-05:00

* Friends and Family

* All the supportive messages I've received from readers of this blog and/or my article

* The time I spent with my family

* The delicious food

* The small gifts, kind words, pat on back, and hugs I've received since the hospital

* The time I spent with Kristin and her family

* The x-rays that told me my wrist wasn't broke

* Love (loving others and being loved)

* Dreams

* My tattoo

* My will to live

* books

* Marlee and Reba

* heat

* a bed

*a place to live

* music

* poetry

* writing

* writers

* e-mails

* letters

* socks and shoes

* Clothes

* pillows

* my education--even when it feels like it's killing me

*my ability to learn

*my determination to learn

*my skateboard

* my rollerblades

* my ipod

*gym membership

* gum

* Teachers

* Mentors

*Professors

* Classes

* Therapists

* My Doctors

* My teachers who have been so understanding as I am falling behind in school

* OH so many more....

*And seriously, friends and family can't be emphasized enough! I love all of them more than words can say.

It Feels Like Years Since It's Been Clear

2009-11-24T18:27:00.003-05:00

I'm tired. Tired of fighting. I told my therapist it's not fair that I try to stop myself from having harmful thoughts, which just results in more pain. I understand healing is hard. I'm not weak, but I'm worn down. This is my life--it's not like I can just take a break from it. That's where sometimes I feel like going to the hospital again is the only way to achieve a break. Being in the hospital validates I'm ill, keeps me from having to be social or impress anyone, and it seems like a legit reason to miss class. My therapist says I have depression that is severe enough to miss class just to stay in bed--or miss class to work out. Missing class for mental health is not the same as missing for physical illness. I shouldn't have to hide out all day and fake sick. I should be doing whatever makes me feel better. I'm thankful for the people who encourage me every day. I try to encourage them back in the same way, but why is it we don't hear anything until it's something negative? I'm working on my ego to avoid that sort of vulnerability.

Waking Up

2009-11-22T13:51:00.003-05:00

I wrote this earlier this morning but the internet stopped working when I went to post this:

I'm slowly waking up, both literally and figuratively. My sinuses are giving me problems, which makes waking up a challenge. I'm also seeing things in a new way after such intensive therapy. I don't know that I like the reality checks I'm faced with regularly. I thought I was good at embracing ambiguity and grasping the complexity of a human-being. I could usually find the good in people, no matter how horrible they might seem. Now, I'm beginning to feel intense anger at some of the hateful people from my past. I find myself judging them--borderline hating. I've never hated anyone in my life. Hate is a terrible feeling. Hate only breeds more hate. I hope this is only a small-step in my healing that will allow me to genuinely have compassion for these people one day--that will allow me to be more evolved. To feel sorry that they feel so afraid and hateful, because those are scarring feelings. Right now, I can't look past their arrogance and ignorance that creates and breeds so much hate.

Waking up to realize not everyone is a good person has been a tough thing for me. Realizing everyone I love has complex personalities, and while they might not always genuinely loved me in the altruistic ways I need, doesn't mean they don't love me.

A boy I went to High School with died of alcohol-poisoning yesterday. I was very saddened by it. He was a nice guy and incredibly smart. Feeling so sad about his death, despite not having talked to him in years, made me think about how alone I felt when I was suicidal. I was so sick that I was convinced people would be better off without me, but I did not think about how many people would be affected by it. I now remind myself how many people care, even if they can't express it all the time. Even though, I still sometimes feel like living is too hard, I'm now healthier and awake enough to understand how one life touches thousands.

Adrian junior determined to beat her depression

2009-11-13T15:01:00.000-05:00

Here is an article in my school paper about me :)

Adrian junior determined to beat her depression

Ordinary People

2009-11-09T22:44:00.004-05:00

I just watched a movie my therapist recommended called "Ordinary People" with Mary Tyler Moore. It was really well done, but messed with my mind a bit. I skipped all of my classes today. I couldn't really get out of bed. Or I guess, I couldn't stay out of bed. I'd get up with good intentions, always ending up back in my bed. I was able to finally get up around 2 and walk to the gym to work out. Working out helped a bit, but then I had a therapy appointment. It was very nice to be validated in all of my negative feelings and congratulated on all of the good stuff I am doing instead of looking at what I'm not doing. I feel unfit to be in school. I am too drained, which leads to apathetic, to have the discipline I need. I'm passing all my classes, though. My therapist says I should be very proud, because under my circumstances, passing is a very challenging thing to strive for.

John Legend has a song called "Ordinary People." It's always been one of my favorites. It has beautiful piano playing, his voice is comforting, and the lyrics are real. I think a lot of my problems, as well as my friends' problems, are that we forget we are all just ordinary people. The world won't stop if we mess up. Failure doesn't kill us, and we will make mistakes and disappoint people in the same ways we are disappointed by them. It's natural. It's really all about honesty and integrity. We hold each other accountable; apologize where it's due; express our expectations of apologies before writing a person off. I have little patience for the fake facades I'm surrounded by. I need people who love me to love all of me--my beliefs, my passions, my actions. I love people for many reasons and to so many different degrees. Why can I allow room for ambiguity in the relationships with people I love, but not expect the same from them? I'm working to figure this all out--taking it one ordinary day at a time.

I Try

2009-10-28T19:43:00.002-04:00

I am fighting hard. I'm really proud of that. Unfortunately, I still focus on my lack of progress. I stopped into visit the people at Partial yesterday after my doctor's appointment. They looked really happy to see me and reminded me what progress I have made. They loved my new tattoo, too :)

I'm trying to be optimistic. I have a lot to be thankful for right now. I don't know why I feel depressed. Tonight, I am having trouble getting motivated to clean my room for the Aussie's coming up to visit tomorrow. It will be nice to show everyone where I go to school. The campus really is beautiful in the fall.

I've been feeling very restless and I get angry easily. That is not my personality at all, or maybe it is. My therapist says I abandoned the real me at a pretty young age. It has been refreshing to seek it. I see glimpses of it when I'm skateboarding down hills, climbing trees, and getting positive feedback on my writing. I don't have any more to say about how I feel tonight. I'm trying to deny this negativity by listening to upbeat music. I really just wanna lay in bed. Gotta clean. clean. clean.

Sunday Chatter

2009-10-25T11:41:00.002-04:00

My face is windburned from the roller coasters and Lake Eerie winds yesterday. It was a rather mild day at Cedar Point, which I was thankful for. I only rode three coasters. I didn't even get to ride my favorite "The Millennium," because the line was 2 hours long. We had my cousin, Karen from Australia's children with us, so we spent a great deal of time around the kiddie rides. It was fun to see them so excited, though. Plus, it was a lot less crowded by the kiddie rides, and I'm not a fan of large crowds. It was just nice to be together. I hadn't seen my cousin, Karen and her family since I was 16 and in Vancouver. Prior to that I hadn't seen them since I went to Australia when I was seven. It is so strange, because Karen's daughter, Jemma, is seven. It's so strange to have family so far away because kids grow up without you seeing them. I remember Jemma as just a little 2-3 year old, and now she is seven with her own personality and her certain maturity to her. She is quiet and observes everything going on around her. I think she may be a bit of an old soul like many of the people I know and get along with so long. My therapist says I'm an old soul, which would explain my vivid memories of childhood and the way I never quite fit in with my peers because I was asking questions that were never answered. I was even led to believe that questioning everything is not okay. The unknown scares people. They don't need some little kid throwing it in their faces all the time.

Despite the kids growing up so fast, there is something comforting in reuniting with the Aussies. That family connection of sharing similar personality traits and being understood on a deep level, yet barely knowing each other on a shallow, everyday level. Karen was 19 when I went to Australia. I try to imagine her at the bar with friends or just doing everyday activities and it is weird to me. I do not know her or the rest of the Australian family (they couldn't afford to all come over :( in that way either. Yet, I can talk to Karen about not being an angry person, yet having that family trait of having bad tempers get the best of us sometimes. That side of the family is fiery. Laura says I'm fiery. We all also have small bladders, which is horrible for road trips--causing us to stop nearly every hour for someone. Groove Adam did not come because he wasn't sure he could be patient enough with our large family. Our family has to be possibly the worst people to travel with in the sense of efficiency. I went into it with the attitude that I didn't care what we did. I just wanted to enjoy their company, and I had a very nice time.

I was also reminded how much I love kids. I don't want to be a school teacher. I know that much, but I wouldn't mind having a job where I work with kids in some way. In fact, my therapist says my goal to be a professor is a great one. She says she can see me being a professor later in life and loving it. She said she has a harder time imagining me going straight out of school to being a professor. I think she's right. I know several young professors who have been burnt out. I wouldn't mind having a job where I don't even make much money as long as I was doing something I believed in. I wouldn't mind doing Teach America and working with inner-city kids. Who knows where I'll end up. I've decided I know where I want to go to grad school. Sarah Lawrence in New York. It's a long story on how I arrived at such a goal, but it is exciting to have a dream, and it's the kind of dream I could never have imagined for myself as a child--yet, it's everything I could want.

I started this blog with little to say. I am glad I found a lot to reflect on. It isn't quite as specific or clear-cut as I would have hoped, and there is very little wisdom in it, but I'm thankful for it anyway. It is nice to have someplace to clear my head.

Soledad

2009-10-21T23:16:00.002-04:00

I'm intrigued by the fact that soledad means both loneliness and solitude in Spanish. As a writer, I think about the thin line between loneliness and solitude. I'm working on a poem about this. I'm too tired to write anything else on here.

Geo-Board God

2009-10-18T10:16:00.001-04:00

Cesar’s glasses rest at the base of his nose. In full concentration, he looks down through thick, clouded lenses. Blue frames contrast with his brown skin. Stretching rubber bands around nails to make shapes, I see Cesar Ramirez, Malcom, Che, and Lennon in the light reflected in his pupils. He is one of many five-year-old pupils in a summer school program—designed to help kids of migrant workers catch up in school. Most are behind from moving multiple times a year. I help teach the kindergarten room shapes, numbers, and letters while their parents fry in fields, picking produce fast food chains will not pay fairly for. His classmates color circles with crayons or use the rubber bands to stretch triangles, squares, and rectangles. Cesar stretches diagonal lines, creating angles.

Cesar, what are you making? I interrupt.

Gawd, he answers softly in his thick Mexican accent.

What?

Gawd, He says louder.

God?

Yeah. He shakes his head in disbelief of my doubt.

Because Leslie Asked

2009-10-12T20:37:00.005-04:00

Leslie asked why I haven't updated my blog. I don't have a real answer. I'm backsliding in my mental health. I don't really like to update people on negativity. I think I may need a medicine adjustment (although I keep procrastinating/forgetting to call the doctor). The gloomy cold weather also makes things difficult. I've been trying to make time to skateboard a lot. It's one of the only activities I am still capable of enjoying. I'm not looking forward to the snow and having to put the board away for 6 months--that is if our winter is as bad this year as it was last.

Writing is going well. I met one of my favorite poets (Marie Howe) last week. She gave a reading here. I waited around to get my book signed and talk with her about how much I loved and connected with her work. She was super nice. I told her I was even considering applying to work under her for grad school. She even told me to write on my application that I talked to her here and that she told me to write that on there. I was shocked and honored. I bet that will help me get through the first round of applications when it comes time for me to apply.

I've been working out, eating great, getting enough sleep. I'm pretty much doing everything right. Just not getting better. I also make it a nightly ritual to color with Laura, Tammy Danielle, or Leslie every night. It's just a nice way for me to unwind. Laura and I printed off a bunch of free coloring pages in a computer lab. They have everything you could ever want to color on-line. My favorite things to color are the mandalas. They are circular designs that represent wholeness and balance. Several different religious traditions use them. I'm not sure which one they originate from--hinduism, buddhism? I am not sure. I even colored a picture of the president in neon colors. It looks really neat.

This weekend I am going to my first ever "Zombie Party." It is Leslie's brother, Jame's birthday party. He insisted everyone dress like zombies. I don't know exactly what that means, but Leslie and I are going to be "80s Zombies together." I always like a nice reason to where all of my brightest clothes and tons of funny make-up. Jordan is coming up for that. He is coming straight from a gig so he says he will be a "dressed-up zombie." I bet he won't have to worry about running into a zombie with the same idea.

The leaves are changing. The tree tops look like paintbrushes just dipped lightly in paint. I hope they don't change too fast. My cousins from Australia are coming up here in a few weeks. The campus is so beautiful in the Fall. I hope they have nice weather.

I ran into an acquaintance today. It was such an unexpected rendezvous because she graduated and moved home. I never really thought she liked me, but today she went out of her way to chase me down (I was power-walking to Spanish) and say hello. I'm so intrigued by people in general and the way we interact with each other. I like when people surprise me in positive ways.

I passed two men with trash bags today. I think they were collecting pop cans. We passed each other, walking in opposite directions. I gave my usual awkward half smile I give strangers, secretly feeling pity, wondering what their life story was. One of them said, "Another day, huh?" I smiled and said, "Yeah. Another day," contemplating what that could mean. It could be a depressing statement like--just another day. Or it could be a thankful comment, like being amazed by another day. I'm not really sure which way they meant. I'm not even entirely sure which one I meant. I was glad he said it though. People are beautiful.

Just a Quick Update

2009-09-27T19:28:00.004-04:00

This is just an update. Not really any reflection like I usually like to offer. I needed to update my blog, though.

Still working hard to stay healthy/get healthy. I've had a few mistakes here and there, but I'm doing pretty well. Still not feeling great. My therapist said the feelings are the last thing to change. Sometimes I catch myself getting depressed about being depressed, which is one thing they really made sure to steer me away from at partial. That is what causes me to start feeling hopeless--if I start thinking about how hard I'm working, yet I still feel poorly, or the fact that I've had two major depressive episodes in three years. Lately, I've been really down about having to quit work. I like my job. It gives me confidence. I'm getting to be pretty good at it. I just don't have the energy for it, which just serves as a reminder that depression is still ruining aspects of my life even though I'm trying so hard.

I'm going home this weekend to get a tattoo. It will be a bracelet with the words "Wisdom. Courage. Growth." I want it to be a reminder that I survived such hardship. I get down on myself a lot for having to go through all of this. I hope the tattoo will be a positive reminder to focus on all of the work I've done and how far I've come. Maybe that will stop me from focusing on how hard I've worked and what hasn't happened.

I am not feeling very creative right now. I'm supposed to be writing a creative essay, which I love. I just don't feel like I can live up to my full potential right now. I'm going to write through this brick wall, though.

Getting By

2009-09-15T18:39:00.002-04:00

I'm still working very hard to be healthy. I am proud of myself for this. My therapist mentioned that maybe I shouldn't be in school, but I think I can handle it--just not sure about making up work from the semester before.

I finally signed up for a Spanish tutor today. I don't know why I put it off so long. I'm glad I finally did it, though. I am supposed to be writing, so I can't blog much. It had just been a while, and I have had a lot on my mind. Therapy is good at stirring up old issues and then you work to gain a new perspective on it.

I'm skipping a meeting right now. It's for my English club. I want to go to a slam poetry reading instead. I could make both, but that would leave me no time for writing, which is my homework. I am reading a poem or two at a beautiful park up here for a program called, "Art Day in the Park." Should be fun. I'm the only undergraduate, though, and the poems are not fully written yet, so I hope I can have something solid to read. It's supposed to be inspired by the park.

I wiped out pretty hard core on my skateboard Sunday night. It wasn't my fault. I was going down one of those ramp-like drops in the sidewalk before it turns to asphalt. I had my center of balance low, because the asphalt was all torn up. I was expecting to fall. BUT, I made it onto the asphalt and it was slowing me down, so I relaxed and got thrown off the skateboard, bouncing forward on my stomach. I have a nice bruise on my stomach, some scrapes on my hand, and a nice bruise on most of my right kneecap. It really could have been a lot worse. It didn't hurt too much. I got up and said, "Skate on." Laura laughed, but we still walked the rest of the way home. When I get some money saved up, I should buy a helmet.

I'm off to write for real.

Silhouettes of Bees On My Blinds

2009-09-06T09:59:00.003-04:00

My blinds are closed because the sun was in my eyes. Now, I keep getting distracted by the silhouettes of bees who are lingering outside my window. Marlee is sleeping in a ball at the foot of my unmade bed. I'm feeling restless, which is probably better than feeling physically and mentally exhausted. The last couple of days I've felt stuck, lethargic, even paralyzed. It is similar to how I felt in the hospital: isolated, disappointed, hopeless, tired of the same routines.

I'm just as confused as everyone else about my isolation. I know I have great friends and family. They would never want me to feel stuck & alone. My priorities are so different than most college students. I'm no longer impressed or excited by parties, bars, or drunken drama. I feel like I was catapulted onto some isolated island in the sky. I have a more mature, wiser, wider perspective on my perceptions of the world, but that doesn't make being stuck in the sky alone feel any better.

This disconnect I feel from everyone has been good for my writing. I met with my poetry prof. He said my poems are fierce and brave. That really helped validate me. I often feel like I don't have anything to contribute to anyone anymore. I'm more assertive than I've ever been, and I'm proud of the way I have been standing up against things that feel wrong to me. It's like moving mountains sometimes (sorry for the cliche).

When I rode up to school with Kaitlin (Sailor's sister :), we were talking about how it is most difficult to stand up for what we believe in to our friends. She mentioned how it is hard, because you know damn well as soon as you leave, they will all be like, "what was her problem?" instead of really considering whatever it is you are standing up for because it's easier not to.

I've had a lot of conversations about race recently. I'm frustrated with the way Caucasians assume they have a right to target an entire race due to interactions with people of that race. It kills me when someone will make racially insensitive comments, and then say, "What? I have 2 Black friends." My response is always, "Have you talked about race and discrimination with them? Do you have any idea what kind of pain they have because of society and their skin color? If so, do you think you can comment on an entire race because you know two African-Americans?"

Mainstream culture tells us not to talk about race because it makes people uncomfortable. This makes racism more prevalent, because repression is never good. Make friends from different back grounds. Talk about your concerns about race. Everyone, regardless of race, has racist thoughts. I've talked to my friends of color about that before, too. The people who claim they have no racist thoughts are usually the ones who are "naively racist." I heard a professor use that term, talking about how so much racism is sub-conscious and out of ignorance as opposed to hate. It's really sparked by fear. Fear of people who are different--fear of acknowledging those differences--fear of admitting discomfort.

I'm also scared by the way people take isolated incidents of reverse racism, and use that to validate their own thoughts about an entire race. That is one thing I think that most Caucasians do not fully understand because we are in the majority. When we mess up, people judge us, not our entire race. We don't feel that pressure of representing our entire race. It's kind of like my experience as an American in Spain. Any of mine or Laura's behavior could either change or confirm negative images Europeans have of Americans. Even though, we are only two American College Students, and we cannot represent the other thousands of college students throughout the country.

This was just a freewrite. I'm not sure I like where it went, but it was nice to publicize some negativity that has been weighing down my brain.

Writing with Courage

2009-08-26T13:22:00.007-04:00

"Courage is doing what you are afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared." -Eddie Rickenbacker

I realize I don’t have distance on my hospitalizations and depression, so I’m scared to write about it. If I examine that fear, I discover that it is more about not wanting to feel uncomfortable, knowing I’m making the reader uncomfortable. Comfort can be a prison that too many do not escape. I understand that it can be immature to be so blunt, bold, and fierce with my most private thoughts. I also know that I have a sickness that I am learning to deal with. It is a sickness that the majority of people, either don't believe in, or at least can’t stand to hear about it. What does that tell those who are sick? The disease takes over ones rationality, so they already have a distorted, negative self-image. If we, as a society, are telling those who suffer from depression that their illness is not real or that it's not okay to talk about--just to make our own selves feel more at ease; that is selfish. To a depressed person, both of those reactions are the same as if you were telling them it is their fault. They already feel like it is their fault, so any outside voices suggesting even remotely the same thing will be much louder than those who validate their sickness.

I can’t let fear for what other people think of me stop me from writing truth. It will be hard to take such intense pieces of writing to my creative non-fiction class, considering I know pretty much the whole class from different places. I will not want to feel so vulnerable so quickly in there, but I feel like this is urgent. I want to write essays that creep people out, forcing them to realize how depression is truly a sickness that changes a person’s logic. I want my essays to make people angry and cry. On top of all of this, I want my essays to make people laugh and show some sort of beauty even in the midst of a tragedy.

That’s a lot I want to do this semester with my writing. I would rather dream big, though, and fall short, then sell myself short and just never try. I need and deserve to be heard. It’s all about persistence and passion. I think I have both.

Here Comes the Sun

2009-08-25T18:48:00.003-04:00

Things are really looking up for me. I'm proud of everything I have accomplished this summer. I still cannot get over the fact that last Monday night, in a matter of moments, I made the independent decision that I was going to move back to school the next morning in order to attend Partial. I packed my clothes (luckily, most my things were already packed due to putting our house on the market) even in the middle of my hysterical crying fit. I am thankful Kristin was able to sit and listen to me whine and feel sorry for myself without judging me.

I feared that I should go back to the psych. unit, but it was late, and my mom didn't think she could stay awake to drive that long of a distance. I settled for my night time pills, a nice shower, and a massage from Ashlee to calm me down enough to sleep.

I woke up bright and early, said goodbye to everyone (after my mom took me to the gas station to get gas and put air in my tires), and drove alone on the expressway for my first time, conquering my paralyzing driving anxiety. I left a voicemail for the people at partial, warning them I was coming that day, and after 2 hours of driving alone, I rang the doorbell, was greeted by the nurse, and signed myself into partial.

I worked very hard every day, and I am grateful to the wonderful people at partial (patients and workers). In just four days, I felt confident enough to begin classes on Monday. I would never have guessed I would progress so quickly. The workers at partial were very proud of me, too. On the last day, the therapist told me that they always teach relapse prevention classes, but very few people follow their instructions. He said in his 20 years of working there, he could probably count on one hand the patients who have returned to them before a full-blown relapse. He also set me up with a therapist here in town. It was not planned this way, but it turned out to be in walking distance from my apartment. It will be so nice to not have to deal with getting a cab service.

Plus, I had an amazing first session with her. She is very to-the-point, and pieced details of my life together very quickly. She also told me to call her cell even if it is three in the morning should I ever find myself in a position where I need to go to the hospital again. I don't foresee that happening, but I am still pretty unstable in the sense that I feel very excited about my progress or just overwhelmed with grief about what I've been through.

I have had wonderful support from family and friends. Thank you all again. I am now taking ownership for my recovery, but it is certainly easier to keep fighting when I have people giving me hugs, listening, and sending positive messages. I see the sun on the horizon. It got so dark, I finally saw the stars, and now I'm moving on and looking to the morning.

Float On

2009-08-17T08:37:00.004-04:00

"Alright, already, we'll all float on. Alright, don't worry, even if things end up a bit too heavy, we'll all float on."-Modest Mouse

I am sore this morning. I don't know why. I might go rollerblading after this. Rollerblading is apparently not a proper word. Every time I spell it, there is a red line under it. I even try it as two words, but it still fails. I guess it has to be rollerblade. It underlines it when I put an "s" on the end, too. That is so weird. I should take that question to a linguist professor I'm facebook friends with. My English club was trying to organize a panel where we had a linguist, a literature prof., and a creative writing prof. too let them duke it out over language.

I have felt worse the past couple of weeks, but overall they have been decent. I spent a couple of nights with some of my best friends from high school. It was so nice to be able to catch up on each other's lives and just lounge around together. Even grocery shopping was fun. We got one of those newer carts for kids where there is a seat/bench sort of thing in between the bar you push the cart with and the actual cart. We took turns sitting in the chair and getting pushed through the isles. Dash was dancing in the isles, and Dawn and Kristin kept making sick faces and using gross voices. I was laughing a good portion of the time.

Last night, I went to a gathering with some of the people from the S. Dakota trips. We drew medicine cards again. This time I drew a jaguar. I guess that represents integrity, and it talked about the importance of staying humble and what an amazing trait forgiveness is. I certainly have some forgiving to do, but I also think that I should stand up for myself for once in my life--I almost see that as part of my integrity, because I really believe in standing up for myself in a respectful way.

I'm very nervous about returning to school. I have a lot of work to make up, and I have had one hell of a time getting an appointment with my psychiatrist and a therapist. I think today I am going to try to call the psychologist I saw a few times my freshman year. I even considered going back to partial this week because that would ease my transition back and allow me to see my psychiatrist on Friday. I don't know if I am really in the kind of shape that could require going to partial. I worry that I am not that bad, and I don't want to be depending on resources that I don't really need. It's tricky because I am not yet needing a program like partial, but I start classes a week from today, and I don't want to continue to get worse and then decide I need more extreme treatment once classes start. I don't know if I can go to partial as more of a preventative step. I probably should call them.

I just can't seem to get out this slump

2009-08-13T10:20:00.003-04:00

Life has been hectic. I find I'm getting overwhelmed easier, and I haven't been sleeping as well as I was. It could just be this awful transitional period I'm stuck in. I am scared to go back to school and work. I fear I won't be able to keep up; I think I'm most terrified of relapsing--of going back to the emotional hell I was in and the physical experience of being paralyzed and in the hospital.

I had a good final therapy session yesterday. My therapist talked about how I need to acknowledge how traumatic the three hospitalizations were and realize that I got through it, so I don't really have to be so scared of relapsing, because I have proven to myself that I can keep fighting even when I feel like I have nothing left. She also said that I am probably still in some sort of shock about everything that happened, because I worked myself until I couldn't anymore, and I am functioning and pushing myself again, so it would be easier if I could just pretend this never happened. She said the grief will hit me at some point, so I need to allow myself plenty of time to recover and grieve. I think the key to my success this semester will be to be much more forgiving of myself than I usually am: if I need a break, I will take it, regardless of what other people think. I need to trust my instincts about how I am feeling. I will also need to remember to compliment myself when I am doing well. It's easy to look past everything that's going right and focus on the negative.

Yesterday was one of those days where all I could focus on was negative things. It was like I was using it as a defense mechanism, trying not to feel happy and then be disappointed because I was short on energy. I just felt tired physically and mentally from the second I woke up. I also was purposely focusing on all of the hurtful things that people I love have done to me, so I could push them away. I felt unlovable, so I did what I could to be unlovable. It is like a self-fulfilling prophecy because then I feel guilty and ugly for things I say to people I love to push them away, so then I get down on myself and feel more unlovable, so then I isolate myself more.

I went to bed in tears, and I was able to comfort myself by remembering what my therapist told me about clinical depression. She said most people get depressed for some reason or another during their lifetime, but that clinical depression is something completely different. I tried to remind myself that it's okay to have bad days, and even though I wasn't the lovable person I try to be most days, I also have been through a lot this summer, and I should be proud of my progress and forgiving when I feel depressed for no reason. It is my natural instinct to get angry when I feel depressed for no reason. I feel angry that I feel so bad, I get angry that I don't have a reason to feel depressed because I still feel depressed, and I get mad that I have let people walk all over me in the past. I get angry, and I turn into more of a fighter

On a lighter note, Laura got me new bearings and wheels for my skateboard. It is 10 times faster, and I had a blast riding it last night. I really need to invest in a helmet, though! Next week, I am moving back to school. I'm scared and still hurt by several people up there, so I don't want to go. I am going back as a new person--I've got a new wardrobe, new shoes, new music, new hope.

This has gotten long, considering I am rambling. I would really like to update this more in the next week or so. It will be hard when i get back to school, but I think I should self-reflect via blogging more often.

Another Entry I'm too Tired to Proof Read

2009-08-07T23:17:00.003-04:00

My computer has been in and out of the Apple Repair shop three different times. I did not blog during all of this, and that is why.

I am taking a lot of things in--learning to feel again. It can be very positive or incredibly painful. The way my spirit can die and be reborn intrigues and amazes me. I am so different from the person I was 6 months ago. My priorities, my beliefs, me friendships, my ideas about relationships, and my poetry are all changed.

I am less anxious since everything I have been through. I think hitting the bottom helped me realize that I can still push off of it to surface and breathe--makes it seem less scary. My anxiety is still very real, but it is less paralyzing. A good example is when I drove to Ann Arbor last week. I am still too anxious to drive downtown, and I was a little anxious driving to the mall. Once I did it, I was so proud of myself and confident. I bought myself a shirt as a reward, and I was able to talk myself out of the guilt I felt for spending money I don't have.

I'm eating Sun Chips right now, and I wonder why I can't lose the ten pounds my meds caused me to gain. Today my mom bought me new bras and pants because I am too big for all of them. It's nice to have pants that fit, but it was discouraging to try on a pair that was still too tight in the thighs. It made me want to cry, because I can't find bras or jeans that fit right because my body has changed so much. I have been doing a really great job at sticking with working out. My arms are stronger than they have been since High School. I haven't seen as much results with the cardio workouts I do, but I am amazed at how fast we can improve at lifting. Seeing such quick and drastic results from lifting weights with my arms, has given me concrete evidence of my health improving. Sometimes it is easy for me to think I am still sick as ever, but thinking about how much stronger I am, both physically and mentally, keeps me from relapsing because I realize what a long way I have come.

I am off for the evening. I have a busy day tomorrow: ride bike to work out, bike home, shower, make Ashley a card for her nun party, do hair/make up, get dressed up, and attend mass where she makes her vows, eat dinner there, party with the nuns, and before I know it, it will be night time :)