my own personal waterloo.

I can't sleep. What a surprise. I'm lingering in the early hours of the morning before my final exam of the semester. My alarm clock is blinking 10:40 at me, which is wrong, because I haven't bothered to reset it since the power went out last. I have (mostly clean) clothes strewn about the floor that I haven't picked up and sorted yet from Thanksgiving break. It seems almost pointless to do anything about them now; they'll just end up stuffed in a bag for home on Friday.

Weird. I don't want this semester to end. I don't want to go home. If I could just opt out of Winter Break and stay cuddled up in my bed in Atlanta for a month, I would. Even if no one else was around. I could read and write all day. I miss being able to do that regularly. I haven't written a word since November, and I haven't touched my journal since before then. It's so strange developing a personality away from an object that seems to have been one of my defining characteristics for so long. It brings up some interesting questions as to why that is, but I'm not sure that's a question I want to answer. Maybe it was a security thing, something to keep myself hidden away in at one point that I really have no need for anymore.

But having to go home for the break brings up all my old awkwardness and irritates those long-held insecurities that I don't really fit in. I don't really want to be reminded of high school; I left it behind for a reason. And it doesn't necessarily help that those who I once considered close friends seem to have all but forgotten me. While I say it doesn't really bother me, at some unconscious level it does.

But then again, maybe the break will be a good thing. It's a chance to alleviate tension, for one thing. There's been a lot of it building up for a while now that I think would be good to get away from. It's like a balloon ready to pop. If I leave it alone for long enough, perhaps it will deflate on its own. Plus, some people I'd lost touch with recently resurfaced for a get-together, so maybe that will be a good thing. We'll see; I remain wary.

I think I have grown into this dislike of breaks since coming to college. For me, Oglethorpe contains my second family; I don't like being away from them for so long, especially when I feel like the only thing waiting for me at home is loneliness and a long marathon of my favorite Disney movies. Thinking positively though, alone time is always a necessity, and who doesn't love Disney movies?

Perhaps this break could be spent productively, minimizing all the clutter (literally and figuratively) in my life and getting it organized. I could learn to be less over-analytical, a nasty habit that often sends me spiralling violently back into those somewhat comfortable high school girl insecurities. I could finally finish the books I've been reading in short spurts for the past few months. I could get back into the habit of writing regularly; I could actually finish something for once instead of starting something and leaving it. I could learn to sew - that skill always comes in handy.

But I guess I'm really just anxious for the break to be over, if I'm going to be honest. Next semester promises to be full of both Shakespeare and Jane Austen with my two favorite professors. Being employed as a Writing Center Tutor again is also exciting; it's so nice to get paid for a job I love. Also, next semester is when I commence my search for an internship - wish me luck in that respect, it's rather daunting. Theatre-wise, once the semester starts up, I jump right in to what I think will be a very challenging but very rewarding role in Agnes of God, and I'm collaborating on a production of The Vagina Monologues to go up in March.

Perhaps I should just focus on the present. My ambition and excitement for the future won't help the issues I'm facing at the moment. I should focus on getting through this last exam tomorrow afternoon and keeping all the conflicting philosophies of Aristotle and Hobbes and Locke and Rousseau and St. Augustine in order.

Oh well, this is what I get for going to a liberal arts school. Silly me.

summer days drifting away

If you were expecting frequent updates from me this summer, I'm afraid I must apologize once again. It seems I always promise more but never deliver. For those empty promises, I am sorry.

Hehe, I feel like the president...empty promises.

But let's not get political, shall we?

I suppose I could give reasons, justify why I have been so oft neglectful. But I suppose the most relevant one would be that I've just been so happy these past few months. Once I returned to the Oglethorpe campus, everything just happened. I had the opportunity to see so many school friends, make a lot of new friends working for summerstock theatre, and got caught up in a whirlwind romance that has just left me so content. And at the risk of sounding like that pensive, sad writer I claimed I was not a few posts ago, there hasn't been so much to write about.

This kind of happiness is something I don't really like to use my pen for. I suppose that for me, it becomes redundant after a while (although, I believe you could argue that all emotions become redundant if you constantly write about them) and what I write out of happiness isn't as personally compelling.

Does that sound weird? I hope it doesn't.

The summer is ending. I have less than one week until Joscelyn and Zach drive through Birmingham on their epic cross-country road trip from Los Angeles, which signals to me to pack up my car and hit I-20 once more for the beginning of the school year. I'm 19. I'm going to be a sophomore in college. And for some reason, those two facts seem totally disparate - 19 seems so young. Being a sophomore in college makes me feel old. I suppose my goal this year is to reconcile those two things.

But so many things are beginning. And I like having an idea of what the future holds for me. I am excited for classes to start. I'm ready for all of my friends to congregate in the same place once more. I'm excited to perform on stage. I'm excited for all the new people I'm going to meet and the new friends I'm going to bring into my life.

And I'm excited to cultivate that one special relationship that has given me such joy these past few months. That's probably the thing I look forward to the most.

is pensive a state of mind? or is it more of a mood?

There was a lot of rain today. And I believe it is a commonly accepted thought that rain is generally a cleansing thing. But there was so much of it that it was difficult to think of it as anything more than oppressive. But now I’m sitting here in the living room feeling a lot better.

If we were going according to the five stages of grief, I suppose I have finally reached acceptance. Things end, and though in life nothing is certain, I’ve learned that I cannot put too much hope in that fact. Eventually, I must part ways with my girlish wishful thinking and my naive desire for all things to be perfect. Not that any of it is bad, I just can’t presume to be able to effectively face the realities of life with such an outlook. It seems I must strike a balance, for I find being bitter and cynical doesn’t quite suit me either - I’m perceived to be much too small and dainty to be jaded and brooding. But I think it would be healthier for me to be a realistic optimist; you know, hope for the best and not break down when things don’t work out the way I want them to.

Hmm…it sounds eerily similar to something I’ve said earlier in this blog. I’m sure it has something to do with my New Year’s Resolutions.

I should review those more often or I’ll just end up looking silly.

As if I haven’t done that already.

But as I was saying: acceptance. And rain. I don’t really know what they have to do with each other, but one seems to have brought me to the other. I think I can finally tell myself I’m okay. I think I finally mean it. And I think I finally no longer have to rely on someone else to reinforce it.

And that, I know, is improvement.

may 19, 2010

Forgive the lack of creativity with a title. I’ve been in recovery mode for the past week and a half.

It’s a natural process, time taken at the start of the summer to just…recover. From everything. I guess I never noticed it before, this obligatory period of recuperation – perhaps this is because this time a lot of things seem to have piled up in my mind that I subconsciously stowed away for this very moment to sift through. A lot of things have happened since I last thought to update.

But I’m going to have to leave you in the dark about the exact nature of these things. Essentially, they are in the past and don’t particularly matter anymore. I shouldn’t waste my energy explaining the details and then getting myself worked up again. I’m exhausted enough.

But the good thing about recovering is that I’ve written a lot more. Not only have I been neglectful to the blog, but my poor journal has had to suffer through almost three months of empty pages. That is my fault. I got caught up in other things and lost focus on improving my writing and getting my ideas on paper.

And I come back here wondering what my intent was in the first place, starting a blog. I believe it was to share my college experiences. I realize I did very little of that. I tried, but there is something very stilted, very awkward, about reliving events for others in the form of written word. I feel strange sharing details of my personal life in this medium…I feel exposed. I feel like I should have been writing letters from camp, explaining all the things I’m doing and the people I’m meeting and how much fun I’m having and so on and so forth. It feels somewhat forced and disingenuine.That’s not what it should be to me. And I realize that I would do better if I wrote more about my reactions to people and events and the things I see and read. I think that would be more suited to my style.

And so I start with a random bit of prose from my journal today that sums up how this week and a half has been for me:

She covered herself with night and drifted through the house on soundless feet. She went through all the rooms and in the dark her presence echoed against the floor and the walls and the ceilings as if they were all blank and empty. She danced naked in front of the windows and no one stopped to watch her because they were all asleep and thinking of nothing. She talked to someone who wasn’t there in the sitting room where all sorts of formal conversations took place, saying things she never said aloud before. She pulled the sheets from her bed and stalked the shadows in makeshift garb, a pretty young thing whose veneer of strong calm had cracked and who was afraid to she she could be anything less than composed. She hid away her memories in a box and burned them in the bathtub and washed the ashes down the drain. She collapsed on the stairs and sobbed for an uncountable number of minutes and the house in shades of blue wept with her. And when the sun came up she stood in the kitchen with a smile on her face.

Recovery can be difficult sometimes. But I think part of it may be because I feel so out of place back at home. I’m not surrounded all the time with the people I’ve come to consider my second family, who all know me and can help me in recovering in a way my friends from back home and my family cannot. But having to go it alone makes me stronger, I hope. It makes me realize that I don’t always have to rely on other people to get me through tough times. And in a way, hitting the publish button at the end of this and sending myself out into the internet world is helpful.

And when I go back to Atlanta and bury myself in class and books and what remains of my second family, the recovery process will end.

Hehe, I just turned up the volume on my computer and R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts” was playing. How appropriate, no?

Expect more frequent updates, those whose tone will hopefully be of a happier nature. I hate for you all to think I’m some sad, overly pensive writer. Because while at times I am, that’s not the person I generally strive to be.

please don’t drown me in holy water

It’s Friday. The week – and the month of February – is coming to an end. I must apologize for the lack of updates. Admittedly, this has been the most stressful of my months here at Oglethorpe, but I think I’ve managed to survive.

Least important of these is the break-up and subsequent make-up of my relationship with my boyfriend. I don’t want to go into it really, but I will just say that it takes a little time apart to realize what you really feel for someone. I hate talking about things like this – it makes me feel so awkward and sentimental.

So moving on.

I’m sick. I blame this on exhaustion and a compromised immune system. After House of Blue Leaves ended I took up work on Complete Works of William Shakespeare [Abridged] and have barely had any sleep. I’m definitely overworking myself and I need a break. Thankfully, Complete Works is finishing up this weekend and I can rest.

But I guess the most traumatic thing to happen this month was the death of my close friend Clinton. Dealing with that was incredibly difficult, especially being so far away from home. But I was at least able to go to the funeral, which was a very beautiful tribute to him. From it I took away a resolve to be more faithful and loyal to those that I care about. Hopefully I can stick to it, for him.

I think the best thing about all of it was how I truly experienced the community of Oglethorpe. Of course my friends helped me through it, but even people I didn’t really know that well would come up to me and offer their support. And the wonderful thing is, they truly meant it. That’s what I love about my school. The people here are truly thoughtful and genuine. And you never have to be alone.

…

But I look forward to March. I look forward to my weekend. I was a hermit this week, working studiously on papers and French work, and (ashamedly) abandoned my friends to spend time with the boyfriend. This weekend will make up for it. Already, it has involved a trip to Waffle House and finger painting (which predictably devolved into face painting). Tonight: the Complete Works cast party. Saturday night: Chi Phi’s belated Mardi Gras party.

Geez - looking at that, I sound like a regular party animal. Maybe I am. But I’m having responsible fun. You can’t blame me for that.

breaking through the funk in the morrison hotel.

I’m enjoying this Monday. I’ll attribute it to the fact that it’s warm and sunny today and not simply to the fact that I have no class after 1:30. After my weekend, I feel I deserve a chance to enjoy listening to The Doors’ “Roadhouse Blues” while cleaning up my room and sorting laundry.

Not that my weekend was particularly bad. Friday and Saturday I helped out with Oglethorpe’s Scholarship Weekend, so I met a lot of prospective freshman. And while it was very fun, it gets exhausting having the same conversation with twenty different people. Then my Sunday was just one of those days where I woke up in a funk I just couldn’t get out of. Play therapy with adorable puppies at the pet store and picnicking on Jessica’s floor with Chinese take-out were the highlights of a rather miserable rainy day though. I’m so thankful for my friends. All of them.

The song is now “Land Ho!” and I’ve transferred my first load to the dryer. I’m now going to take a moment to reflect on the fact that it now takes me $1.50 to do one load of laundry instead of the $1.00 it took a few months ago.

Moment’s over. The song now is “Queen of the Highway.”

I should probably take some time out to read. For tomorrow’s classes I: have to finish Remains of the Day, have to read chapters out of Don Quixote, and have to make myself familiar with various tools used in stagecraft. But instead, I’m blogging and looking up the lyrics to David Gray’s “This Year’s Love,” which quite accurately reflect my romantic situation at the moment.

Which is another explanation to my Sunday funk. But I don’t really want to go into that. I don’t do well with bad moods.

Maybe I should grab my journal and venture out onto the quad and plop myself into one of the big adirondacks and just write. I’ve been neglectful recently. Shame on me for slagging on one of my New Year’s Resolutions. And it’s so pretty outside too.

Once “Maggie M’Gill” is over, I’ll do just that.

After I transfer my last load over to the dryer.

i’m in a lewis carroll sort of mood.

Which is a good thing, if you’re wondering. I’m not really sure how to describe it. I think it all started when I found out Chi Phi is going to have a Disney-themed party in two weeks.

My first thought was to dress up as the Dormouse from Alice in Wonderland (because when I think of Disney my mind doesn’t automatically revert to the princesses), so I did the usual Google search to find out what I would need to get to make a costume.

Instead, this is what I found:

 

 

 

and this:

which are both a far cry from what I was originally looking for:

 

I ended up deciding to be a card instead. But I have found myself a new adorable ball of fluff to squeal over, and that is always a very good thing.

But enough of my random ramblings.

I find myself at the end of a very exhausting, very enjoyable long weekend filled with friends, fraternity parties, rehearsal, a date, a Matisse exhibit, laser tag, and movie marathons. Sleep was minimal. But I don’t really mind. A 5 Day Weekend like this only occurs so often, so you have to make the most of it. And for those who would dispute it, the weekend starts on Thursday even if there is French class at 9:00 on Friday. Plus, it’s the first weekend of the new semester – what better way to celebrate it?

Time has passed so quickly. I feel like I should be in February already, things have progressed so much since I last wrote. Nothing is as I left it, I’ve learned from my month of absence. I’ve also learned that I like it. I don’t have to dwell on the questions of what could have been. I don’t have to care anymore about what did and didn’t happen last semester. There’s nothing to weigh heavy on my mind except the pressing need to read Don Quixote and Remains of the Day for class tomorrow. Carefree contentment is such a nice feeling.

Which is why I am currently sitting on Joscelyn’s bed in my favorite shirt from Will Smith’s Fresh Prince era and going through my OU Radio playlist and procrastinating until dinnertime. I personally think it’s a wonderful way to end the weekend.

and so it begins.

A new year. A new semester. Like a stack of presents waiting to be opened. There’s something so overwhelming about it; I have the need to take my time unwrapping and savor each moment. That I’ve arrived back at Oglethorpe and seen most of my friends and sat through my French class hasn’t completely sunk in. Maybe I’m waiting for things to be set in motion.

That must be it.

I am so glad to be back here, back at home. It is home. Even my parents recognize that. I’ve learned to stop correcting myself, clarifying that Oglethorpe and home are the same thing, because it seems as if everyone already knows and understands. I suppose that’s what college does to you. And now that I’m here, everything seems to be falling into position. Nothing seems to have really changed significantly about this place and these people I left a month ago (with the exception of the snow on the ground and the ice on the sidewalks).

It’s as if I’m just picking up exactly where I left off – I’m waiting to see if that will end up being a good thing or not. There’s still that idea of the clean state at the beginning of a new year, starting fresh with people; no expectations still lingering from the last time you saw them. I think that seems like the best attitude to take, don’t you think? I’ll try it and see how it works out. It could be my official New Year’s Resolution, since I really never got around to making one.

And while I’m at it, I’ll make some more:

I resolve to write more. I attempted to do that during my month-long break, but it only happened sporadically. I know I shouldn’t force it, but getting into the habit is better than coming back to my journal every few days or so. And maybe updating the blog will help.

I resolve to read more. I brought two bags of books back with me. Makes sense that I should get through some of them before the semester ends.

And, I resolve to be more patient. Things won’t always work out the way I would like them to, so why fight it?

 

That’s all I have for the moment. Lunch is calling. But really, what more could I add?