Illin'

Part of the reason I never go out at night is that it makes me sick. Yesterday I went to see a movie in the city around three in the afternoon, and as we headed back it was eight, cripes all friday, I thought I was going to die. Hands were pushing against the inside of my skull, another pair were reaching down and punching my dinner, and I couldn't sit up without keeling over. I slept for ten and a half hours and today I feel fine.

It happens every time I leave my room, or my house, or wherever I've been comfortable for a period of time. Now I'm no doctor, but my eyes are in such a state, they have to be the culprit. I think it has to do with my pupils and the fact that they don't shrink in the light. I swear to God they don't. They're always huge and I'm always squinting, and it's why you all think I'm a vampire. The changing of the lights at night, it kills me. It turns me blind and ill.

But the psychological interpretation would be that this is a physical manifestation of my natural antisocial sentiments, because that's just melodramatic enough.

-- 12:40 PM

Moonwalk

Lately I feel like my walking is getting me nowhere, like my shoes don't catch the ground.

-- 10:37 AM

A frank, poorly written list of things bothering or pleasing me

• The housing lottery at this school is crooked.
  
• My online midterm crapped out on me and I will have to take it again.
  
• I don't have time to take anything again.
  
• I can't write coherent essays anymore, or not with the ease I used to. These are bad.
  
• I've made friends.
  
• I got a job.
  

-- 04:13 PM

Fixin's

I know everything looks very messy right now and that the other pages don't match up. I'm in the middle of redesigning. I'll probably do the rest tonight.

-- 02:33 PM

Analysis

I've been having this feeling that one of these days, I'll turn the corner and there will be this big crowd there, and they'll all break into applause and hand me flowers and chocolates and balloons, and one among them will come up to me and put his arm around me and gesture to the rest and say, "We are all really proud of you and your effort." Because that's just about what I need right now.

It takes such a monumental effort on my part to not be a Negative Nancy, particularly when I have nothing in the form of a pill, a friend, a family member, a kitty cat, a something physically here, sitting here on my bed, to help me. It takes such concentration and meditation. It takes sitting cross-legged with my hands on my knees, my nose pressed against the bed, and a physical willing involving calming my dog-whining noises down to heavy breathing and a very loud voice in my head and sometimes a quiet one in my mouth coaching me into controlling this.

Without a doubt, I seek reprieve within my work, which is why I've actually come to like Tuesdays and Thursdays as they are my busiest days. Back to back to back I go to class and I study hard, then I go to work and I give my best performance, and I never let my thoughts stray to anything resembling emotions. But it also means that when it's all over, I come back to the room and I can hardly pin down the hand that wants so badly to crack into my skull.

The amount of control I have over myself now is outstanding compared to the way I used to be, but I wish I didn't need it. I would like for something good to just come to me, for once. I'm just getting very tired of having to work for things and watching people who don't have to work for things get whatever they'd like all the time without fail. I would like, for once, to have luck on my side. I would like to stop fighting with myself.

-- 09:13 PM

Things I could have killed today but should be grateful because I didn't

1. Waking up really, really cold.
   
2. Slowass walkers.
   
3. Snow.
   
4. Hurtful snow.
   
5. Comm. Ave. bus
   I. hitting the brakes like a crazy man.
   II. taking bizarre seven minute breaks every. single. round.
   III. leaving the doors wide open for seven minutes while everyone gets whipped in the face.
   
6. Food that is not in my room right now, and is in fact separated from me by eight flights of stairs and a wintry mix.
   
7. Five to eight extra inches of snow today, you've GOT to be kidding me.
   

-- 07:49 PM

Fitzaga connector

Before I realized that my dorm, Fitzpatrick, is actually connected to Gonzaga, I would always take the walk to the very middle of these buildings, to the main door. Someone later pointed out to me that I'm an idiot and that I do not have to walk all that way, that I can just go right into the Gonzaga door at the top of the staircase and avoid being cold and rainy for that much longer. The Gonzaga door just leads you right to the stairwell, and I haven't gone back since.

Except today, for some reason, the Gonzaga door wouldn't open, so I had to continue onto the main door (which wasn't that big a deal because it's really, really nice out). It brings me into the connector area, which has a few couches and tables and we used to hang out there. For some reason, the connector has a very distinct smell from the rest of the building--it smells like the beginning of college. It smells like it's not summer anymore but it's still warm out and I'm very uncomfortable and self-conscious and worried and annoyed by almost everyone I lay my eyes on and afraid that I'm not good enough for anything and I want to go home.

As unpleasant as that trip down memory lane was (and judging by my pace up the stairs, I'd say it was pretty unpleasant), I think it's a good sign that I subconsciously distinguish those feelings from these feelings. Even though just one month ago I was crying like a little bitch over just about everything, I have had a drastic turn-around. I never want to feel like I felt last September, and I don't think I will. I don't really have to.

-- 10:51 AM

Sunday bloody Sunday

As a general rule, we try to avoid family mass at 10:30 because Fr. Bryan calls up all the kids and tries to personally explain the readings, and they all sing the songs, and the cuteness tends to wane rather quickly. But because today was daylight's saving and I had to head back to school, we had no choice (except to go to the other church, but). Today's first reading was about Moses and the burning bush, so Father revealed what he had in his homily bag: a box of matches. While I was being a jackass and telling my mom everything I've learned in my Biblical Heritage class, Father was asking the kids why your parents don't want you to play with matches.

"Because your house could catch fire!"
"Because you could start a fire and set your clothes on fire!"
"Because you could burn yourself on the fire!"
"Because you could hurt yourself with the fire!"

The homily usually lean in this direction--one gives an answer and the rest keep giving it. We get a laugh, but then we want to leave in under forty-five minutes so we stop. The second question was what sorts of things can you do with matches?

"Light a candle!"
"Put candles on a birthday cake!"
"You can take a match and light it so that you can throw it at someone you don't like and they'll go away."

My children BETTER be like this last one. I want them saying creative, awesome things whenever they want. I shouldn't, but I do want them to be a certain way. I want them to be smart and sharp and beautiful and thinkers for themselves. And I'm not sure I know how to make this happen. I think my parents took a real risk raising us the way they did: we could say "shut up" and watch all the TV we wanted and play video games and I once had my nose rubbed in my own urine when I peed on the rug. What if I did that and they became a bunch of no-good, rude troublemakers? I'm probably not giving them enough credit--everyone makes decisions for themselves. I just want to have enough influence to make sure my daughter doesn't become a real bitch--you know, like the type I hate. I want to do it right.

Then again, I'm exactly like my mom, who's exactly like my grammy. And sometimes I'm exactly like my dad, who's exactly like my grandpa. So maybe it'll just happen.

Listen to me, acting like I'm giving birth tomorrow. (I wish.)

-- 10:16 PM

I'm free!

Over dinner tonight, while I was updating my dad on everyone's college situations, he said that he was completely amazed by the amount of communication we have. "When I was in school, I didn't make a single phone call to a friend, didn't send a single letter, didn't do anything. I waited til Thanksgiving, heard a friend say, 'I hate my roommate,' and that was that. You'd go, 'Oh, wow, hope that works out for you,' and that was that."

I started to nod and say yeah, times are much easier now with the Internet and how well we can keep up with each other, but he cut me off.

"It's not that great. You're complicating each other's lives."

Which I suppose is true. I talk to my closest friends everyday, and the not-so-close about once a week. Everyone knows what's going on at all times, and because they all know me and not the new people I'm living around, they're bound to side with me and make me feel right. If I didn't have that, then maybe I'd be able to see that I'm a big bitch too.

But in the meantime, I'm going to keep going with the idea that I am the best. I tried disappearing a few months ago and I just couldn't do it. I don't need advice, but I need to know that people know what is happening, because it's as close as I get to fame--everyone knowing me and knowing no one else.

Besides, without the Internet, how else would I be able to find out if any of you ever watched "Are You Being Served?" Because did you hear that Mr. Humphries died? How sad!

-- 10:54 PM

A sweet for my sweet

As a teen writer, I've read a fair amount of teen writing, and unfortunately more than once I've come across the idea that the troubled female narrator, too consumed by life issues, plumb forgets about her birthday, gloomily remarking, "Is that today?"

It is impossible to forget your birthday. You're thinking about it months in advance, it comes into sharp focus when it is a week away, and you wake up going, "Today!!!" Regardless of whatever plagues you and whatever attitude you have towards birthdays in general, you always remember it.

I'm never particularly excited for them, though never contemptuous either. I like when people remember it, but I don't go off the wall when they don't. I like getting gifts, but I don't throw a fit if I don't. I like having little parties or dinners, but I certainly don't like huge celebrations. For this birthday in particular, I was not expecting anything too grandiose, as it's my first away from home and I was sure no one knew it was coming.

But at midnight, my roommate burst in with a really hysterical card, and when I woke up in the morning, my roommates for next year had hung up a birthday sign and wrote me a letter saying how excited they are to get to know me more. And in light of the way college life has made me feel so far, this really meant a hell of a lot to me. I am clearly a needy person deep down, because what cheers me up is knowing that people like me and want to know me. And it really, really cheered me up.

(Though what put a little damper on my day was during my Irish class, we watched the short film Six Shooter, which he said would show what real Irish humor was like. And the DVD menu also had the film Cashback on it, which I loved, so I was very much looking forward to it. ...Good God, that is not exactly a piece I want to watch at nine in the morning. If you can, buy it on iTunes. Es increíble.)

Any other celebrating I might be inclined to do will have to be postponed until tomorrow, though, as I've got a huge midterm in the morning and it needs serious studying. But then once that's through, it's off to the airport for a weekend with my mum. Plenty of pictures to come. (Oh, did you see I added my flickr photos? Yes, I know, they're all my cats and my dog right now. Everything else is on the home computer. But anyway.)

-- 05:42 PM