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| This is the first of many mornings that I reflect on the previous night and realize how my room hasn't been co-inhabited. Though not counting my resident mouse, as she's still around and I think she's the noisy one that makes the fridge make funny sounds at three in the morning. Even sometimes in the past few weeks, I am quite cleverly deluded into thinking somebody is around. Things fall down in my closet for no reason (hooks with faulty adhesive backing); my choice of interior decor cracked and broke mysteriously (still, no idea why); sometimes the entire place shakes, smoke fills my view of the street corner outside (stupidly suicidal teething squirrels); and they result in days like today, when I just don't feel like dealing with anything.
I lived by myself for two weeks already; I should be okay. Actually, I think last year when something bad happened and I fell apart... well, I should have learned the first time. I'm actually not really sure if anything settled in yet. He took the clothes I don't borrow from him out of the closet yesterday. And now, I have more closet space. I have too much closet space. He remembered to bring his straightener back, finally. Mine is resting peacefully where it should everyday, untouched because I have no need for it. No more saline solution stains on my furniture. No more bunched socks and mini-pile of underwear in the corner. I can finally wake up again, take a sweeping glance of my room and sigh in relief that it is as pristine as my mood deems it should be. Right now, slightly messy, almost overwhelming, residue from the things I have been doing or haven't gotten around to prioritizing yet.
His alarm clock. I love this damn alarm clock and waking up to static every morning. Mine is obviously prettier, has a better signal, but I have invested no more meaning into it than the average alarm clock.
So the week looks a bit like this right now:
Sunday:
7 PM - Emotional Armageddon
11:24 PM - Grand Revealing of Many Things That Needed to Be Said
2:37 AM - Breakdown
4:12 AM - Pass Out
Monday:
All Day: Panic
Tuesday:
Until 6 PM: Panic
6 PM: Midterm
Wednesday:
Sometime: Tea Party
All Day: Birthday, Panic, Study
Thursday:
Until 6 PM: Panic
6 PM: Midterm
Also at 6 PM :Philanthropy Event
Friday:
4 PM: Cramming 4 girls into my room
7 PM: Elections
All Day: Smile, Panic, Smile
Saturday:
All Day: Convention, Trying to be at multiple places at once, Panic
Night: Part-A (har har)
Sunday:
Dinner time: Eating with people who greatly annoy, stress [me] out, throw paper airplanes at me
Otherwise: Buying food. A lot of food.
All Day: Probably panic
I think I talked too much yesterday, so I locked the door last night: a pretty emphatic (at least to me) indicator of wanting some space. I am still resisting the urge to pee right now to preserve whatever assertiveness came from that act. .
What scares me the most is probably that when we dissolved, the spark came back. The conversation, the familiarity, they sexy, the what-I-liked-about-you-to-begin-with. I wonder if all this had happened sooner if we'd be in a better place right now.
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| I didn't think I had it in me.
But apparently, I can stay pretty mad.
Very cool.
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| I've just spent the past week distracting myself. Constant tabs on Gmail, ebay, Facebook, alluc.org (a little less impressive because of the writer's guild strike...). And oh, can't forget the weather tab- in which I have further subdivided tabs as testament of the few cities I've ever needed to know the temperatures of.
Christmas has lost its allure to me. I was absolutely heartbroken the first time my dad told me we weren't putting up the Christmas tree anymore. But he had a valid reason: the dog was going to piss all over the tree skirt. And then, it gradually become less reasonable, and more unwarranted. Like the year the Christmas lights went. And then the Halloween decorations. Luckily, my freshman year of high school, my three week old puppy romance at the time felt sorry enough for me and my immensely Christmas-Nazi family, and bought me a miniature Christmas tree. To this day, my mother displays it as resplendently as possible on our dining room table, attempting to cram as many ornaments on it as possible.
I'd like to think that my childhood Christmas memories were simply more magical because I didn't bother to notice everything else. Global warming, shootings up and down Walnut St. in Philly, internet fraud. All these things we worry about now, even though we really don't truly worry about these things. And honestly, I don't agree that everything was more sparkly just because I was an ignorant brat. Home videos have plenty of evidence that my house was decked out for Christmas, my grandmother was still alive (sitting on that god-awfully designed couch), and there was a healthy crowdedness underneath the tree full of shiny, taped wrapping paper. My family was pretty new then and we were still absolutely enamored by the idea of Christmas. We indulged in it like a Zales commercial (though those make me puke a little).
My brother is 9 this year and all his presents, but the one from me, were bought in front of him, left unwrapped, and with the verbal confirmation that "Okay, this is your Christmas present." In fact he was ripping into his PS3 on the 23rd and he's been endlessly attached to it ever since.
A lot of people have been wondering about the state of my family. Well, this is about it. We are all pleasantly distracted. I noticed today that just about everyone I know is becoming a little more like Brave New World - we are always watching something. This laptop glare, the championship game, American Idol garbage...
So now, we're all preparing for the massive new year. I cringe a little when I see champagne bottles in upturned top hats. Most of all, New Years confetti gets to me like no other. I'm going to be doing the second best thing on my list and that is spending a rowdy night with friends and what I hope to keep at mild inebriation. The best thing I'd rather do is about 1,196 miles away from me right now. I really do prefer quieter nights, games like Scrabble and Chinese checkers, but what do we do about the things that can't be helped?
And please, please, please - do not ask me how my mother is anymore. I am so so so tired of answering that question. Ask me about dancing, my philanthropy work, and films I've been watching, why I want to go to West Virginia (actually, that's a long one), my unusually good skin (except for one pimple this week), why I feel indebted to go to Anchorage, and of course, the usual aspirations, career goals, etcetera, etcetera. And I guarantee we'll have a great time.
Ugh, I don't know what happened. I'm trying here, but it seems writing is lost on me today. I feel a lot less introspective these days, much more out of touch. Unsatisfied, as always.
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| I am fully aware that I told myself I would keep adding small anecdotes this semester. But the truth is that unless I make writing a profession, I won't have the time or the heart to keep this up at the quality I'd like it to be. It isn't called writer's block - it's called I'm not getting paid for this.
I don't like talking about the good things I am. There's no point in talking about the good things I could be or can be, since all that matters is what we really are. And then I had somebody tell me that I had better improve my ability to talk about myself "marketably". That's tough.
It isn't conceit, it's selling yourself. Credibility, responsibility, empathy.
I have a new respect for my mother and domestic chores. I don't know if this is supposed to happen, but sporadically throughout the semester I just wanted life to slow down and spend time being the neo-avant garde version of stay-at-home mom. Let's call it "domestic goddess". Granted this goal is remarkably cliche - but if I do drop out of my wonderfully overly-accredited university, I'm opening a bakery or gourmet restaurant.
I think that also started noticing maturity in a different light. Maturity. So conventionally something we refer to as healthy life decision-making skills. A flawless GPA versus alcohol poisoning. And anyways, both ends of the spectrum are absolutely awful because either way you'll have gnashed your social skills into a cheese grater. Maturity by government? 18, 21? Getting drafted, legally consuming inebriating substances. The consent to die, essentially.
And really, I just think maturity is the ability to take something and put it back where you found it. In which case, many of my uncles never fully grew up. Untidy people are always going to be children because somebody will always feel compelled to pick up after them. Most likely somebody like me.
I'm going to take a nap now.
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| I have never really needed some sort of emotional space before in my life.
This is definitely a first.
I find that we usually do to others as people in our past have done to us. Sometimes those people are still sticking around as we copycat them. It doesn't really matter really, unless you tell them what you're doing. In response to which they offer advice and plenty of insight previously inaccessible when you were a victim (intentional or not).
I like these busy days. There are subtle defense mechanisms we develop for no conscious reason. Mine is probably shopping at pharmacies and inspecting Juicy Juice juice boxes while reciting "haggard haggis hummus" to myself. I am back to my routine of eating sushi for lunch: always avocado and salmon rolls with white rice. And I picked up another habit: Naked juices. The green one gives you the same too-much-friction-in-the-mouth feeling that spinach does when you eat too much of it.
I meet a shockingly high number of people these days. I think somebody was concerned with the way I drew in people with my personality and dismantled those relationships promptly, taking what I could of them too quickly. I'm not surprised. There isn't anyone I'm looking for - my life as I knew it was dismantled this summer. I don't keep plans anymore. I haven't decided if this is complacency or a new level of miserable.
I also discovered that if you split the components of a relationship all over the place, you really don't have to invest too much in people. I have great first conversations with people, then afterwards I don't have the energy to follow up. Nobody is quite worth that effort right now because I just don't have the emotional resources or the energy.
I don't like demands very much - this is why I told him to go away. In fact, I should have done that about two weeks ago. Really, I just lost it. Spark, gone, poof. I tried.
But Asian boys are quite attractive lately, surprisingly. Maybe it has something to do with some sort of summer residue from Korea. Actually, I should just join a nunnery. It would solve a lot of complicated situations but of course give me new perplexingly unsolvable situations - more commonly perceived as problems.
Rush is a blur. I feel like I am on speed-date 24/7. Classes are blurs that like to play in slow-mo. I don't understand how to calculate a perpetuity or an annuity. This is becoming a glaring mental discomfort.
Corporate finance god please send some sort of extraterrestrial creature to help me out.
Quite the charming male freshman showed me my current choice of quality literature.
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