Is it just me..?

January 10, 2009

So, things are close to being back to normal.  Meaning that Mare’s back in town, classes start Monday (ah!) and work is no longer full-time, but instead just something that I do for a few hours a day.  I’m looking forward to the arrival of my routine again.  

Tonight, we’re supposed to be traveling to go see a concert.  This, however, has been interrupted by mother nature, who thought it best to drop some snow on us overnight.  While it had been predicted to be the biggest snowfall in 3 years, we have just a slight dusting with the possiblity of a bit more later today.  Most people would say, “well, what’s stopping you then?”  A woman who lives about 100 miles away, that’s who.  I love my mother to death–we have one of those relationships where we really are best friends; it’s not just something I tell people–but she’s too worrisome.  Okay, I know that’s a mother’s role, but still, I feel as though her worry just translates into a migrane for me.  I feel as though I should be able to make my decisions for myself–I’m 20 years old and living on my own–without her trying to influence.  I know she’s my mother, she wants to protect me, but at this stage in the game, I need support, not criticism.

Maybe it’s just me, but for once, I think I’m right.

Hi there, 2009.

January 3, 2009

After arriving back in town after our holiday extravaganza in the Northeast, heading back to work, celebrating the New Year by watching a 3-year-old sleep, then driving again back to our lovely hometown to get the car inspected, I’m finally home.  For good this time, I hope.  Now only one more week of work before the semester begins–whether or not I feel ready for it.

I’ve noticed that the holidays have really lost their excitement.  Maybe because I’m not living with my parents anymore or maybe because Christmas usually means being shuffled from house to house for three days trying to visit all the homes that make up our families.  Or maybe because getting underwear is finally exciting.  Either way, I’ve realized that things just aren’t as they used to be; no waking up super early (this year I begged my mom for another hour of rest), no huge plans for New Year’s (instead, I babysat), no holiday spirit in general.  I mean, I truly tried.  We put up the tree, I bought gifts, I ate the cookies–all to no avail.  Maybe it’s the fact that every time I went to the mall I got shoved in the process.  Or the fact that my bank account isn’t as fluffy as it used to be or that the rent is due every month no matter how much is in there.  Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve just grown up.

So now that I’m settled back into my apartment I have had the chance to  look back at 2008 and I’ve realized that it may have just been the biggest year so far in my life.  I went through the end of a shitty relationship, my first abroad experience, moving out of my parents’ house, and finally figuring out what to do in college.  I won awards, broke hearts, got involved, got tattooed, became attached, and lived to tell about it all.  

Here’s to 2009, whatever it may bring.

..winter wonderland?

December 19, 2008

I’ve been told that the lack of seasonal weather is about to come to an end here in SEPA (south eastern Pennsylvania… when you’re from the northern part of the state, you grow up thinking NEPA is an actual word, or if you’re my sister, a state all its own).  We’re forcasted to get about 6 inches of snow and this is going to really mix up my holiday travel plans.  I had intentions of leaving tomorrow for my parents house for Christmas, but it looks like I’ll be sticking around just a few more days.  This means a queen sized bed to myself, free reign over the bathroom, and enjoying the early bedtime of about 10:30.  

As I sat at work today–mailing 1,052 letters, mind you–I realized that I have no interest in the holiday this year.  Typically after Thanksgiving, I’m in full holiday spirit, begging to decorate the house and buy gifts for my loved ones.  While the tree was set up the night we got back to our place, I haven’t really felt in the spirit much unless I’m home.  I love our tree and the idea of getting things for people I care about, but come on, some old guy strumming away at an upright bass crooning horrible Christmas songs?  No, not fun.  Moms trampling each other at Wal Mart? Doesn’t seem cheery to me.  Maybe it’s just my age, or maybe it’s cynicism catching up to me, but this Christmas stuff seems to be for the birds.  Sure, I love the family and the sharing and the idea behind it all, but honestly, where in God’s name did we get so far away from what it really means?  

I’m assuming Furbies had something to do with it.

So, I guess I’m hoping a few inches of snow gets me excited (and not terrified, as I have to drive my death-trap car 1oo-odd miles in the next few days) about the upcoming festivities and less grinchy.  As long as I don’t hear another Christmas carol between now and the 25th, I should be just fine.

It’s been longer–much longer–than I would have liked it to be.  I’d credit that to the immense amount of schoolwork that’s been assigned (and forgotten) about over the last few weeks.  Somewhere between getting my life back on track and staying on top of my apartment, I’ve just seemed to forget about this.  With this tiny gap over the next few days, I hope to really catch up and get back into writing… something that has just been neglected in the whirlwind that has swept me up.

The good news is that things really are back on track; the tragedies of two weeks ago  have found solutions, (most) of the friend problems are mediated, and despite being behind in two classes, I’ve realized that I’m not that far off track.  Something about tiny successes that really make you feel as though you haven’t fucked up that much and that there’s time to finish everything else up.

In the past few days I’ve found myself really contemplating this college thing.  While I’m within three–or even two–semesters of graduation, the lines between learning and application have finally begun to blur.  With the exception of Science and Civ, most of my learning is done through application; projects being completed, filming, processing and enlarging–I’m no longer a sponge in a seat.  The defintions between student and professor have also finally meshed the way I’d like to see them.  I’m learning to really come into my own creatively and I’ve found that projects are much easier to complete… and defend.  I’ve found myself becoming much more confident in my presentation and my thoughts as an answer to a prompt; I don’t always second guess like I once did.  I am thrilled with how things have been going with school lately… it’s a great feeling.

But despite the success and happiness I find between 9 and 4, there’s other things that I still just don’t get.  The idea of finding purpose–or giving my life purpose–still sometimes escapes me.  I feel as though I’m going through the motions and just completing menial tasks; that the things I’m doing are not shaping any amount of meaning and that despite the time taken, it will eventually be forgotten anyway.  It’s rather pesimestic to be thinking this way, but in the same breath, I find it hard not to.  I look to invest time in people, in processes, only to realize that those people forget, those projects fall apart.  Sure, I have a handful of truly great things and great people, but it’s those few that can really put a damper on the bright eyed view that I attempt to hold on to.

And then I think of the lady at CVS who gave me the coupon.  Or the woman who walks the dog on my street and lets me play with him when I walk by.  Or the child at the grocery store who smiles incessantly when I smile back.  Or the professor who really seems to care about me beyond a name in a grade book.  Or the boyfriend who wakes up with me in the middle of the night because I have a question that just has to be answered.  Or the mother who always picks up the telephone, even if it’s a bad time.

And it really doesn’t seem all that bad anymore.

Nights like tonight don’t help me at all.  I don’t feel I was at fault by any means; plans were changed by someone who wasn’t included and I am to feel as though it was my fault.  It’s unfair to be thrown into a position like that.  I feel like I have no one to rely on, or if that one person (beyond my immediate family) is two hours away.

And then the emotion pours.  Like water through a colander.

We had the talk–the one that goes something like “I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t want to be” and on and on, but there’s simply something that won’t let these words settle with me.  Something that unnerves me.  And it really gets me thinking when I realize that there’s no one trustworthy.  There’s no one who sees it like I do, and no one who will run when I walk out the door.  I worry that I’m just not enough of something–whatever it may be–to hold on to one of the few remaining relationships that weather all problems, big or small.  The one who doesn’t leave when things get tough, but instead grasps on tighter.  Someone who I don’t have to explain my problems to because he already knows.  The one who I don’t have to worry about including because it’s already him and me.

I’m just not that needed, I guess.  And I suppose I can’t blame them; I was the one who left.  For once in my life, I want to be followed by someone that I actually want to follow me.  I want to be pursued by an interest, I want to be needed by someone I need.  Too often I feel replaceable, and that might just be my insecurities.  I’ve been trying my best to get beyond them, but more often than not, I feel miserable at the thought of not being the type of person you want around; instead, I’ve fallen into being the person that you hope doesn’t show up.

When did I become that girl?

I honestly hate the times I feel this way; I’m fulfilling the typical “angry teen” persona, but in all truthfulness, it does not always come out as something pretty.  Writing is better than taking it out any other way, and this is what I’m left with:  a mess of words that sound like complaining and two nights spent alone in my two story apartment. These better not be the best days of my life.