After The House Shook from Thunder

"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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good Morning, Gray Skies

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

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

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

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

Untitled

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

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

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

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

Dolphins, Unicorns, and Llamas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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