Seriously. I have the best friends EVER. Today was a good day.

So, I'm nineteen now. I don't feel terribly old because, in the grand scheme of things, I'm not. Anyway, I opened the presents my family sent which included clothes from L.L. Bean (not as nerdy as it sounds - a snuggly, purple hoodie and blue knit sweater), messenger bag from said company, money from grandparents, a framed front page of the New York Times of Obama's election, and pink One-Star Converse from the sissy. I christened the Converse on a photo assignment at the Fraze. I met some awesome people, including this adorable old couple (I'm assuming they were a couple - I honestly don't know), and I kept running into them (The Fraze isn't a big place, granted) and chatting. It wasn't my greatest shoot, but I don't really care. It was my flippin' birthday, and I got to do what I love and see my lovely friends. I received many phone calls throughout the day, and it was great to talk to everyone. I have many posts and texts to respond to as well. I had no idea that many people cared!

After all that craziness, I picked up Gina for our girls' night, while Hannah was going to come a bit later after work. They brought the cake they stayed up till all hours finishing, and it was delicious. I plan on having some of it for breakfast. We gabbed, spazzed, and laughed. Every time we get together, Gina mentions how giggly she gets with us, and it makes me sad that we can't do this more often. Damn you, inconvenient living arrangements! Since I fail, I forgot to pick up movies from the library, so we journeyed to Family Video. Two movies later (The Strangers and Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist), Hannah had to have her UDF peach soft-serve. Two UDF locations later, success! We sat outside like creepers because she couldn't drive and eat it (shocking, I know). On the way back, I had to duplicate my (supposedly) epic chair-dancing to Michael Jackson's "Black and White." More laughter and ridiculousness. We watched the movies, and it was glorious. I love these girls so much. I've known them since I was in pre-school. There's been some friendship rebuilding because I haven't seen Gina in far too long, but it's one of those things that's easy to fall back into. I am so grateful to have such great friends, especially after all this time. How often does that happen? We were practically attached at the hip during elementary school, and then I drifted some after leaving St. Al's, and then I moved 1,200 miles away. I'm kicking myself for not doing this sooner. Oh, well. I get annoyed and stuff doesn't happen. I think I've learned my lesson. I've known this lovely ladies for 14-15 years; I can't stay mad long.

Gah, I love all my friends so much (family goes without saying, haha). I like Emily's idea of having all your favorite people in one place. I've been wanting that since I moved away. Now I have three places I call home. It's so awful sometimes. I'm too happy right now to dwell on that.

What? A happy entry? I didn't know that could happen.

What the hell, hormones?! Are you trying to make me even crazier than I already am?! It's working if that's your aim. I just had this problem less than two weeks ago, and now it's happening all over again. Well, at least that explains some of my behavior these past few days. I don't always recognize this person I've become since summer started.

I can't even form coherent thoughts right now except:

WHY? WHY?!

Okay, so I'm back to the status quo concerning this journal. I just published an entry I started yesterday, I think, and I'm already feeling different.

I AM JUST SO FED UP WITH SOME PEOPLE. I figured I'd lose some friends once college started because people change, I know I have changed, and distance happens. But now I find myself stepping back, and wondering why I'm friends with some people. I remember why initially, but now I can't see quite a few of them continuing. It kills me to say that because I'll usually fight to stay friends. My friends mean the world to me, and I've been kicking myself for not doing a better job as a friend this year. I had facebook at my fingertips and the phone by my side, but I hardly talked to anyone from high school or Ohio. But, by the same token, not many attempted to talk to me, so I shouldn't feel as bad as I do.

I can't even properly express myself here. A lot of my anger and hurt has passed, but I'm sure I'll keep asking myself these questions in the coming weeks. I think too much.

I need to revamp my lj. Panic will always have a place in my heart, but I need something more neutral, but I don't want to have to change my layout with every passing obsession. Of course, that requires knowledge of how lj works, and I certainly do not possess that. I was reading instructions for uploading a different mood theme today, and I was just confused by that, so this doesn't bode well for the future. I mean, I've done that before, but somehow it's changed since I last did. The world moves much faster than I do. That's not saying much though.

As much as I love this journal It's much more therapeutic for me to physically write out my frustrations. Hopefully that will cut down on the angsty/depressing entries. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself. I just need to sort myself out, and actually DO something. I just have no motivation. I even made a list for today, and only accomplished two things on it. I guess that's progress though?

Wow, I was just rereading previous entries, and it's depressing. I swear I'm not always like that. For whatever reason, I word-vomit on my lj.

I'm trying to be perkier. I think that since my internship is taking off and I'm actually being social even though ontd_ai is making that difficult.

But I'm trying. That's what counts, right?

Hm. I only update this when I'm feeling peevish. There are worse things, I suppose? I mean, I'm not a happy-go-lucky kind of person (obviously), but I seem to be especially emotional on this journal. Alas, that is who I am.

I keep hoping I'll come to a decision about my spiritual and/or religious beliefs, but it doesn't seem to be happening. Most of the problem stems from some small (nearly microscopic at this point) part of me that still wants to believe. I mean, I've been involved in religion for nearly all of my life, so those beliefs are hard to shake. I understand that. I'm just so damn indecisive, too. I've settled on being agnostic, I suppose. Most of my conflict is whether religion is good or not. Looking at moderately religious people, I would say yes, it's all right for them. It's the fringes that frighten me, and with the human race, it will never be about moderation.

I went to Mass for the first time since Christmastime today. What happened was expected: I didn't feel anything. Nor have I ever, really. I used to think something was wrong with me because I wasn't moved by Scripture or the Sacraments. Now, I recognize that I just don't "get religion" like some people. I was involved in church activities, such as the Confirmation retreats, altar serving, Eucharistic minister, etc., because of the socializing and community feeling. Did I feel more spiritually revitalized after these activities? Yes, I guess. But I think most of those feelings stemmed from the aforementioned community feeling.

(This was written over spring break, I believe, but I forgot that I hadn't finished it, so I'm only getting to it now)

Well, well, well, another historic day! Watching the Inauguration raised my spirits, even though I was later frustrated (but that's not terribly important). While listening to and watching our new President give his speech, it struck me how completely awesome it is to be a college student at this time. I mean, yeah, the economy is in the crapper and there are two unresolved wars across the ocean (and those are just two of the issues facing Obama at the moment. Eek!), but it's just so great to be a student right now. My generation has (hopefully) been affected by this recent election, and now I feel more optimistic about the future even though the present is pretty dismal. Knowing that I helped elect a president willing and able to make government honest again and able to restore that trust is very empowering. Being on a college campus when all of this is happening is such a great thing because people tend to be more involved and excited about issues. Points are handed back and forth without people getting terribly upset (usually) because it's just about an exchange of ideas. Nothing is at stake because of a healthy, intellectual debate.

I honestly teared up several times during his speech and afterward when I was thinking about the four years to come. Starting as a freshman less than a year before Obama became president is great because, as corny as it sounds, we're both starting anew. He has much more on his plate, but I'll have my difficulties, too, haha.

It's just so mind-blowing that I'll stop now and consider going to bed.

Gavin always makes me think. As corny as it sounds, his lyrics just speak to me. I'm sorry I had to resort to a cliche, but oh well.

Anyway. I don't know why I hadn't thought of this earlier, but one of his songs almost perfectly embodies my feelings (the general tone and message, at least). As with any musical expression, it's better to hear it, and even better live, but his poetry speaks for itself.

"God in This Moment"
Stained glass windows all around me
Watching as they fall down to their knees
Saying words I am not understanding
But, I know that I should be
Kneeling, praying, asking for forgiveness
Thinking of all the things I've done wrong
Hoping their god is out there somewhere
He's listening now
And all along...

And I'm told
There's a god in this moment
Watching over me
I don't know
Their god in this moment
But I know I'll try to believe...

Ten years, ten lifetimes older now
Watching, waiting, expecting that day
Knowing that I can't hope to imagine
The ways my life will change
Now I'm holding my daughter, she's sleeping
I'm staring down at a face just like mine
Knowing that from now on
Nothing matters as much as this
In my life...

And I know
There's a god in this moment
Watching over me
And I know
My god in this moment
And, I know I'll always believe...

Until the day you took away from me
the only thing that mattered in my life
Can't you see why I am angry with you?
I'm hating you for all you put me through
And, I don't know why inside this silence is deafening
You know I gave up everything for you
I followed you always, all along
God don't let her be gone
I'm lost without you...

But now you're gone and I'm fading
And I, I hurt in all these new ways
Though I'm praying you've gone
to a better place now
I just can't say...

But I hope
There's a god in this moment
Watching over me
I don't know
If there's a god in this moment
But, I know I'll try to believe...
God I hope
You're there in this moment
Watching over me
Can you show
Me you're there in this moment
Something to make me believe...

As was insinuated in the last post, I've figured out how I feel. I've pretty much decided that I'm not Catholic anymore. I mean, it's always been difficult for me to wholeheartedly believe anything, not just religion, but personal reexamination and reevaluation has provided me with something to grasp onto. It's interesting because I've always felt different. I know, I know, I've said this before. "What makes you so special?" Well, I mean within my family, to a degree. I may have mentioned this in a previous entry (I know I've thought about including it, at least), but Dad said something especially interesting once (for all that he can be aggravating, we have good discussions), and this is me paraphrasing: my sister and I are different in the grand scheme of society. He wouldn't, or couldn't, explain any further. Until now, I had always thought he meant through our similarities, but now I think it's more about how more devout she's become and how "rogue" (for lack of a better term) I've gone. I mean, I don't think he knows the extent I've reassessed myself, but he is my dad after all, so perhaps he's figured it out. He just looked me in the eyes and said, "You're different" and that was that. Perhaps he was just being a good dad to his last daughter going off to college where anything is possible. Perhaps not. Only time will tell, I suppose.

I know my mom has figured it out somewhat. I've mentioned to her that it may have been fun if I'd applied to University of Dallas, and she said, "I don't think that's the school for you." How true, I've come to realize. Mom and Dad believed Hendrix to be the place for me, and I won't contradict them.

The only downside is that I've become the stereotypical rebellious youngest child. I mean, I go against most of what my immediate family holds dear: religion, moderate-conservatism. Not that that's bad. Not by any means. People can practice whatever they choose. It's just when it interferes with government and politics (separation of church and state, people!) such as in marriage and abortion, that I have a problem. Yes, I have my personal morals on these issues. Does that mean I'm going to force them on someone else? NO! I may try to get them to understand my side, but I won't discredit their argument. That's the beauty of democracy. I won't judge you, so please don't judge me. We're all in this together in this small, spinning planet whether we like it or not.

This election has brought out a different side of me. I like it.

I'm in a good place now. I've figured things out, and now I understand myself better.

Tuesday night was epic. The watch party in the Ballroom was festive, especially when swing states turned blue, notably Ohio. I can't even describe the elation nearly everyone felt as the votes from California were called in, and Barack Obama became our first black president. Honestly, for ten (or twenty, even) solid minutes there was screaming, hugging, frantic texting and calling, and crying. I called Nisha, and we were just speechless. After the initial shock and joy, everyone settled down to wait for McCain's concession speech and Obama's victory speech. McCain's speech was very good, and everyone here was respectful and clapped for him at the end. I mean, really, it was a historic election and he was extremely gracious toward Obama. Finally, Obama came out and gave one of the best speeches I've ever heard. I teared up especially when he mentioned how the campaign "grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy." And to think I, and the rest of my generation and beyond, were part of it. My first time voting, even! January 20th cannot come quickly enough.

For me, personally, I've found my middle ground, and am content. I associate best with the Democratic party (obviously, since I voted for Obama). I support gay marriage ("civil unions" are not equal to marriage, in a governmental sense. If religions have problems with that, then they can deal with it among themselves and keep the government out of it. "Don't judge lest you be judged." It's also similar to "separate but equal" before the Civil Rights movement. Inherently, it wasn't equality because separating something from another implies a hierarchy. Granting civil unions, not marriage, to gay couples is saying, "You're not good enough for our full-blown marriage licenses." It's especially disheartening since gay couples have equal rights with heterosexual couples in other venues, such as property rights), am pro-choice (it's not the government's place & definitely a personal choice. My body, my morals, my choice), and am extremely tired of government corruption and deception. It's time for honesty. It's time for change. And dammit, we got it! Every time I open my door and see my Obama poster with the word "Hope" prominently displayed, I get a shiver and, well, hope.

I'll get off my soapbox now.

I didn't understand why I was special. Sure, every kid has wanted to be “special” at some point, but definitely not my brand of special. I was a little confused about my separation from my classmates, but being allowed to purposely miss class was any seven-year-old's dream, even if only for thirty minutes. I didn't mind until my difference made enjoyable separation into humiliating segregation.

At the beginning of my primary school career, I attended St. Albert the Great School. I moved easily between social groups as most little kids do, before social preconceptions are truly formed. Everyone was everyone else's best buddy, sharing blocks or shying away because of cooties. I thought I had a good handle on the rigors of elementary school. After all, my classmates and I were learning multiplication and cursive handwriting, which went beyond our realms of four-square games and jungle gyms, but we had never experienced the world of formal education; we were learned in the ways of children.

As most of my school years had begun, the preparations for my second grade year were hardly noteworthy. The flurry of back-to-school shopping encompassed the usual frenetic ransacking of local stores, along with the battle for the newest Lisa Frank folders, one fight I always lost. I got my dose of shots from the doctor and a proclamation of my fit-as-a-fiddle condition. Then the school year truly began as I marched to St. Al's armed with my useful-but-generic folders and crisply sharpened pencils.

Once inside those tiled and freshly waxed halls, I was bombarded with those aforementioned new subjects along with a barrage of school health tests. Eye, hearing, flexibility, coordination, and speech testing data were all collected and corroborated, while the appropriate assistants were dispatched to the needy students. Much to my befuddlement and slight excitement, I was called out of class because of one of those tests. A little apprehensive, I ticked off the tests in my head, while I also mused about the possible benefits of missing class time. No trouble with my eyes or hearing, as far as I could tell. Second that for flexibility and coordination because I was a rambunctiously active child. Speech? Why does that even matter? I could talk. In fact, my mother sometimes wished I would talk less. Moreover, what does that even mean? Trudging after the uppity therapist, I was led to The Tube. The Tube, my affectionate name for the speech therapy center, was hastily encamped in the parking lot and bedecked with school-themed decorations, ranging from inspirational posters, “Knowledge is Power,” to the wall of “Success Stories.” While staring at those seemingly happy, recovered kids, the therapist told me,

“Well, let's see here...we need to work on your speech.”

I stared at her blankly because I had figured that much out myself, so why was she telling me? I wasn't stupid, after all. School had always come naturally to me, and any of my previous teachers would attest to that, so being taken out for something not school-related seemed silly to me.

“It seems you have what we call, let's say, a speech impediment, which means you have something wrong with the way you move your mouth and form words. But don't worry, dear, it's easily fixed. You can rejoin your classmates once we've worked on it some.”

Suddenly I had somehow plummeted to being thought of as scarcely intelligent because of a slight lisp, at least judging by her tone. She continued to talk, but I hardly listened because my once great opportunity for free time had become a disadvantage. I thought to myself, “Well, maybe it's just this lady who feels like that. She doesn't know me really.”

After enduring a few more minutes of her peppy talk, I wandered back to class. Silently cracking the door into Mrs. Curtis' room, I took my seat and tried to proceed normally. A few weeks passed and I continued to be shuttled between class and The Tube twice weekly. Eventually my classmates caught on, but it was an unspoken understanding. School became a dreaded everyday nuisance because of the therapy and the new attitude of my teacher. I became a special case that said “Handle with Care.”

I had no love for learning anymore since I was forgotten during class discussions because of my perceived special needs. What I had once thought to be interactive and fun was turned into a barrier between myself and my classmates. No more did I find comfort in my books because I was reminded of my teacher's attitude, so I actually began to think of myself as dumb. Without my books, school was pointless and mundane. I had interacted with fictional characters for so long that I couldn't reconcile my present situation as reality. I slipped into a quiet existence, which only reinforced my teacher's belief in my stupidity. In seemingly no time at all, I left behind the energetic, eager second-grader and had become a detached, thick-tongued child.

My parents worried as parents often do. They had never thought my speech was a problem since it hadn't affected my ability to learn. They knew the two weren't related. My father had always read to me before bed, so he knew of my keen interest in reading and my eagerness to read aloud. From The Polar Express to Aesop's Fables, we shared that bond of reading. I marveled at the ingenuity of my favorite authors in dozens upon dozens of books I willingly devoured. I explored the snowy woods of Laura Ingalls Wilder's youth, tricked trolls with Bilbo and battled alongside the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve in Narnia.

No longer able to endure it after several months, my parents spoke directly to the principal and I was removed from the program, much to my relief. Once I was away from that “therapeutic environment,” my speech impediment disappeared as many awkward childhood phases do. I can't say that I was one of the therapist's “Success Stories,” but I know that's not what was important.

Woah, two updates in less than 24 hours?! I must be either awfully depressed or bored. How about both? Sounds good to meeee.

Well, I'm not that depressed, but I'm not exactly chipper either. Everything has already settled into a schedule and predictable pattern, and I'm just afraid that this pervading depression will follow that pattern.

Am I clinically depressed? I don't even know because I couldn't tell you what that means. If it's hereditary, then, yes, I probably am. With every fiber of my being I will resist being medicated. That's one thing I cannot stand - over-medication. From my experience, people treat everything with some sort of pill even when it's not necessary. Maybe it's just me, but I hate taking medicine. Even when I have cramps I will refuse aspirin, unless it becomes unbearable and heat doesn't help, because I hate taking it. The only medication I do choke down is my acne medicine because I've lived too long with a pizza face, and I will not have that again.

I can't concentrate. I have to write this all out before I can start on my Journeys' paragraphs. Yes, it's nearly midnight. Procrastination much?

Friends are stupid. They act and do stupid things that fuck everything up. It's about the only word appropriate enough for the present situation. No, none of my Texas friends are physically doing one another, but are giving me one hell of a mind-fuck.

Let's set the stage.
Love triangle: Betty, Booby & Bobby*

Booby likes Bobby. Bobby doesn't like Booby, but has a fawning appreciation for Betty. Booby can't contain her feelings for Bobby anymore, so she decides to tell Bobby via technology. No good ol' physical communication here. No siree. Bobby doesn't realize the extent of Booby's message, and responds similarly, "I love you, too :)." Booby, unsatisfied by Bobby's thick-headedness, reiterates her "feelings," and Bobby freaks. Bobby goes to Betty for consolation (or something). Bobby swears Betty, who happens to be Booby's bff, to silence. Despite Booby's insistence on knowing Bobby's own "feelings," Betty refuses to tell.

Outside of this triangle is everyone else. Joyous.

I have talked to Booby, and apparently she doesn't want my help (my help meaning everyone sitting down talking about it, no matter what promises where made). It's her "mess" and she "has to clean it up, thank you." I would respect that if it weren't my mess too. Sure, it's about her relationship with Bobby, but honestly I'm better friends with him than Booby (although I'm not sure anymore because Betty, who was introduced to Bobby by me, has surpassed me in importance), and I have to deal with this "mess" too. It's not longer just her issue because she made it known to everyone, so she has no more claim on it than my roommate. She insists it'll be okay, and perhaps it will be...eventually. Or never. Based on her past dealings with friend crises, I'm not holding my breath. Her response to a minor friend spazz and cold shoulder awkwardness? Chicken Little: "The sky is falling! I have no more friends!!!" So yeah, I'm not that optimistic.

*I'm using pseudonyms because, although I doubt they read it, I don't want the whole world to know about my friends' oddly incestuous relationships, and I love alliteration.

I've nearly given up on caring about those friends. NO ONE EVER TALKS ABOUT ANYTHING MEANINGFUL. Instead, we have these stupid situations.

I'm actually feeling better. Ish. I didn't really expect it amidst all these goodbyes, but it was partly those goodbyes that made the difference. You know that saying: You don't miss it until it's gone. Well, right now it's the reality of that emptiness that has made me understand where my priorities (friend-wise) lie.

I had some of the best conversations with my friends these past few days & then ones that amounted to nothing. There were times I didn't want to leave & then when I felt crowded & claustrophobic. I'm going to miss those late night AIM conversations about certain lovelies & obsessions no one else understands. I'm sorry for being upset about little things. If these friends ever read this (highly unlikely, but a girl can dream, right?), I want you to understand how much you mean to me. I say that without a trace of insincerity or cliché. Perhaps I don't see you a lot. That happens. I just hope that college doesn't change it too much.

I'm already feeling the shift though. Because, honestly, it's difficult to expect friends left behind to not establish deeper friendships while you're gone. I mean, goodness, I do/have done/did that. It's nearly impossible not to as a human being. Anyway, it's quite a blow when it changes before your eyes & for more superficial (I think) reasons. Friendships shouldn't be based on idolatry of the other friend. Sure, we've had friends that weren't a "bestie" or whatever. This is different. Sure, I can still hold a conversation, but it feels different. I feel like I'm losing a friend & it hurts. I can deal with the Ohio boy & friend drama, but this is beyond what I've had before.

Why can't people just accept things for the way they are? Why is there so much disdain for certain beliefs? I believe God, okay? I'm sorry you've changed so much that I hardly recognize you as a friend anymore. I've dealt with your changes, so why can't you deal with my unchanged beliefs? It seems ludicrous. If I see you smirk when you talk about Christianity one more time, I may burst into tears. I feel insecure about my own views enough already. I don't mind if you disbelieve in God. Everyone has their beliefs & morals, but that shouldn't discredit me as your friend.

Well, I was happier.

For once, a semi-happy entry! Well, not in entirety, but I'm trying, I really am.

Well, to get the bad news out of the way: my grandpa had a stroke two nights ago. He's really fine. In fact, he can move his left arm & foot pretty well. He'll have to do physical therapy, so that will definitely help, but his speech wasn't affected. Mom, Anna & I are going up to the hospital (again) today to bring Grandma food (Panda Express. It was Wendy's yesterday). The doctors want to keep him for a few days, so I may be celebrating my birthday in a hospital. I don't really mind though. Sure, it's not ideal, but I'm just so thankful that he's fine.

Now for the semi-happy/fun news! (whoamiwritingto?) I already knew my friends & I were going to see The Dark Knight premiere on Thursday for my birthday, but now there's to be a shindig beforehand! I'm probably more excited than I should be because 1) I haven't seen anyone is almost a week (since the birthday party, that is) 2) let alone done anything.

Anywho, I have get ready to go to Fort Worth for lunch and such.

Well, nothing is better. Only this time, illness has been added to the general apathy of my situation. Sitting at home for the past few days sick has give me the opportunity to think (never good because, if anything, I think too much. I should be Hamlet's twin in that way). Sadly, no new revelations. I'm still irritated by the one-dimensional world in which I reside and my own jumbled feelings. One bright spot today was when I was finishing Surprised By Joy by C.S. Lewis. It details his personal conversion from extreme atheism to Christianity. Personally, it resounded with me because I've had similar doubts, albeit not as extreme as atheism but a definite questioning of my faith. Honestly, there were times I started crying because he struck such a chord with me, so I'm feeling better about being who I am and the Christian I can only hope to be. There has been so many times I've kicked myself later for not standing up wholeheartedly for what I believe in. I just hate how the general perception of Christianity (and, honestly, religion in general) is a legion of half-wits who don't understand their beliefs and declare anything and everything in the name of God. It's almost like the media and the like don't want to know or understand. I distinctly remember a news piece (with some news pundit I've forgotten) where they "explored" the lives of an order of nuns. The anchor couldn't grasp why this group of women would willingly deny themselves the luxuries of twenty-first century living and devote themselves to understanding their faith and relationship with God. For whatever reason, it's becoming increasingly more difficult to explain why there's God. It's much more than a feeling but then not. It's something you feel most distinctly at your lowest point, but realize touches of it at the happiest points and throughout daily life.

Being alone these past two days has fortified my epiphany that my friends move along just fine without me. Inconsequential? Yes. Depressing? You better believe it. I shouldn't discount them because I got several calls wishing me better health, but I still feel that wall. I can't openly talk to a single person the isolation I've experienced. And truly, who could? There's to a certain point a person can be sympathetic. I've been able to talk to some friends about pieces of my isolation but no one person to truly cry with or be a total fool. How could I accurately and truthfully compound my feelings from my parents' divorce and the difficult transition to Texas to someone I've been friends with here and with whom I've had difficulty? Nearly impossible. For five years, I've lived with the "what if...?"'s and the "could have been...?"'s and the gaping hole left by my Ohio friends. It's even worse because I've been able to see their lives lived out through facebook while I sit in another state missing them.

I need to stop this emotional vomit before I'm up to my eyeballs in it.

Fortunately, I don't have anything to ramble about this time. Then why update, you ask? Because I feel compelled to, perhaps even a need. I also don't feel like reading Crime & Punishment (the title is very very appropriate although I don't think I did anything wrong to deserve this sort of torture) or working on my prospectus. Curling up into a ball and falling asleep sounds like a fabulous plan right now.

Honestly, I have nothing to complain about. I have a house (albeit one that will self-destruct soon), food, clothing and a computer (which is definitely not a necessity). I try to remind myself of these things but it's a lot harder when everything non-material is crashing down around you. I should be happy because I'm going to a college and one that I love to study something I've wanted to since I was little. Yet, all of that seems so far away when my perceptions of people are being dashed and I can't be civil to my friends. I feel terrible to treat them that way, so then I feel even worse and treat them no better.

I should wait to update next time until I feel better or something truly earth-shattering happens.

On a sidenote: Panic released their newest video "Nine in the Afternoon." It's pretty sweet, so check it out if you can.

[whoamitalkingto?]

Sometimes I'm not sure. Try as I might, I never feel like I quite fit in here. I mean, I never felt completely comfortable in Ohio, but I've been feeling increasingly more isolated since moving here. Do I have myself to blame? Yes. Does that change the fact that I have sudden mood swings and become disconsolate? No. It's not all my friends' fault (although some do annoy me to the point of silence - that's what I do when I'm upset or angry: I become silent). I haven't exactly been forthright with them when they've ask the dreaded question, "Are you okay?" I just nod and life goes on. What I can't get over is that that nod doesn't ease the tension I feel at times. It sometimes feels like I'm an observer watching my friends try to interact with me and I'm just sitting there, deaf and dumb. I just don't understand why I can't move on from my past and embrace the present and impending future (college, right? Oh, yeah, that). I don't know if it's the friendships I left behind (likely) or the opportunities there (also likely). I've made some of my best friends here, don't get me wrong, but they aren't the same kind of relationship as I've had before, which is fine if you like change. I don't. Change and I don't have never gotten along and throw in a new situation and different people and it equals this isolation.

Change + me = lonely, isolated, depressed, blah

That's simply put, too.

I haven't been able to put my finger on my problem. I doubt I will. I'm not usually this pessimistic, but it has to creep up sometime.

I love my friends and I hope they know that. I realize they don't like hugs (which I am not and will never get used to, sorry), but I'm not a very articulate person most of the time, so the no-hugs-situation can be irksome.

This is my catch-22: I miss Texas when I'm in Ohio. I miss Ohio when I'm in Texas. I can't win wherever I am. It seems like I'll never be content as a result. If I can't be happy either place, both of close friends and family, then where can I be happy? Nowhere I've found yet.

I concluded because he ripped up a magazine cover with her visage upon it. But perhaps it had more to do with the feline fascination with paper and its ripping capabilities. The jury is still out on this one.

It's Christmas Eve, but it hardly feels like the season. I think it has more to do with the fact that Mom and I are scrambling to clean and neaten the house because company tomorrow. In our haste, we haven't decorated at all. I've only gotten my little fake tree out and that's been the extent of my holiday cheer. I should finish cleaning but AIM and this journal are more enticing than mopping floors or whatever domestic horrors my mother thrusts upon me.

Dang it, my guilt is getting the better of me. Well, this has been fun and short. Cleaning, bah.

Missing Calculus = bad. So it goes. {damnyouvonnegut}

I got horrible, shooting pains in the middle of a CSI episode. And no, it wasn't because of the gruesome nature of the show, but something yet-to-be-determined. In fact, besides missing Calculus, I missed band practice {it was only the one hour rehearsal though} and will miss the game tonight. Honestly, since it comes and it goes, I definitely don't want to be marching when I get another pang.

Instead,
I caught up on Pushing Daisies & CSI: NY. Can I just say that Ned of Pushing Daisies is the most adorably dorky character ever?! I don't know if such a guy exists, but I'd like to think so...in my little optimistic bubble of life.

Now I am here, sitting at my laptop and writing to no one. Joyous. It doesn't really bother me, actually. I mean, I keep a hand-written journal {that NO ONE will ever see, thankyouverymuch}, but I figured I should update my minuscule piece of the Internet since it's here and ready.

I think now I shall move my inflamed innards to my bed and finish Dracula. How lovely for this time of year, no?

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