I just have this feeling..

January 14, 2009

The other day I was driving to my friend’s apartment and we got into talking about my blog.  Not about the content, just merely the fact that she reads it every once in awhile.  I complained that I feel as though this blog, while I enjoy it, sucks because it either A) turns into a bitchfest which is kind of stereotypical of blogs, B) isn’t really worth reading and my lame attempts at being funny don’t succeed or C) just makes me look more stupid than I really am.  Now, for the three people who read this every day (or the one person who visits three times), I really can’t understand it.  The other day I had 18 views which, for me, is a lot.  I rarely talk about anything substantial, but instead just kind of ramble about my day, the stuff I have to do, and how I don’t want to do the dishes that are piling up in our kitchen.  I don’t tackle tough issues in our world, I don’t have anything wise to say, I just flat out spew the stuff that’s inside my head out onto my laptop every afternoon.  Maybe this is interesting to someone–if it is, I’d love to know who you are exactly–but I’m trying to instead just make this something I do for me.  I really don’t have many of those sorts of things, but I’m taking an active role in actually doing stuff because I want to, not someone else.  I’m really good at letting other people tell me what I should do and just kind of taking a supporting role in my life.  I’ve learned that this just leads to  lot of disappointment and missing out. I figure this is probably the best way to operate.

Taping tonight, off tomorrow.. it’s a wonderful feeling.

When you wake up at 7 with every intention of showering and needing that hour in between the time you opened your eyes til you get in the car, you’re pretty disappointed when you are finished getting ready and notice that it’s only 7:26.  So here I sit after packing my lunch (doesn’t this sound slightly third grade-esque to you?) and figuring out what I need for the day.  Tuesdays are going to be work from 8:30-3pm til dance starts again, then lab from 3-4:30, and class again at 7.  Yes, it’s going to be a mighty long day for me, but it beats having to squeeze in work on most other days.  

First day back went well.  Science and Civ might actually be easier for me this semester, Short Films has a fun group of people so that alone makes it better, and Printmaking is, well, Printmaking.  That alone excites me.  We’re going to head into the city this week to get our supplies and then I’ll finally feel like things have really begun.  Spending $100-some dollars on stuff that will be gone in the blink of an eye always makes me feel as though some really work has started.

Lately I’ve noticed how odd my days feel.  Somewhere between home and school I’ve felt very mixed up about how to split myself evenly between everything I’m involved with.  It’s not as though I feel overwhelmed; I’m only two days into the semester.  It’s just a completely not understood place where I feel as though there needs to be two of me to get the job done right. There’s some sort of difference in the way I operate at home versus what goes on outside of the door.  Maybe I’m just losing it (hopefully not already) but I’m hoping it settles down.  

Til then, I’m off to conquer the mound of forms on the desk at work and tour guide.  Woo!

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.


January 9, 2009

What do you do when there’s so much you want to do?  Okay, that sentence isn’t clear by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s how I feel right now.  The last few days I’ve turned into an application fiend, applying for tons of scholarships and numerous internships for the summer and fall.  If I have to look at my resume another second longer, my head might explode.  But I’ve realized there are TONS of things I’d love to do.  What,  you might ask?  Intern on the View, work with a filmmaker in the city, work at NPR for a semester, do the Disney program (okay, this one sort of blows a little bit, but hey, I’ve always wanted to try it out!)  I think I can blame all of this on a slow end of the week at work.  Without a mound of stuff on the desk to get through, I’ve had time to peruse the internet for all sorts of things.  Mostly things that don’t pertain to admissions.   And Facebook.  LOTS of Facebook. 

Spring semester begins in 2 days.  I’m actually excited, with the exception of Science and Civ II.  Otherwise, it should be a pretty enjoyable semester with creativity bursting at the seams.  Just remind me in eight weeks that I was actually excited about the work.

Off to go file, then guide people.  Home in three hours!

For real?

January 7, 2009

I work in a college admissions office.  Typically, the days aren’t very eventful; once in awhile something really interesting will happen, or I’ll come across a funny student essay, or one of the counselors will give me some mudane project that makes the day drag on.  And on.  But that’s not really the point.  Most of these counselors (3 out of the 4 on my side of the office) are fresh out of college.  Two are actually alum.  Today, one of them started talking about loan repayment.  I nearly dropped out of my seat.  Out of her paycheck, between $700 and $800 goes directly to her Staffords.  Scary? Just a bit, especially when you’re only making about $800 a month.  Okay, now I know I’m going to school full-time so I really shouldn’t be shocked at the amount of money–I’ll be working a full-time job (hopefully) after graduation, making paying the bills and actually surviving seem a bit more feasible.  The problem lies in the idea itself:  do I really feel that my education is worth the money?  Often, I say no.  I feel as though I could be taught these things anywhere, if I simply picked up a book.  Sure, the experience and interaction is great, but really, $40,000+ a year for college?  I oftentimes don’t understand it.  I feel as though I’ve been placed into such debt that it will be impossible to come back to the surface before my children are having children of their own.  Maybe it’s just me, but its tough to rationalize it.

Other things that are too expensive:

  • underwear:  come on, if I’m supposed to be wearing it every day, making it upwards of $5 kind of seems ridiculous.  I could have three coffees instead of one pair of underwear–guess where my pick would be most days.
  • cereal:  almost $4?  is there gold in that cardboard box?
  • laptop computers:  okay, these are actually pretty important, advanced little machines.  $2300 for a MacBook Pro?  That I need for what I want to do when I graduate?  Where is that supposed to come from?
  • turnpike tolls:  enough said.  What’s up with paying for shitty roads that usually are backed up because of work zones that are full of people staring at a hole in the cement?

What do you think isn’t worth the price you pay for it?

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.


December 29, 2008

After a hellish afternoon at the local mall (what in God’s good name was I thinking?) I have decided to compile a small list of things I swear I will never do.  In no particular order:

  1.  Shop again within the week after Christmas.  Enough said.
  2.  Allow my teen daughter to dress like she’s at least five years older than she really is.  I often wonder what parents are thinking and if it’s “Oh honey, you look adorable!” they should probably be shot.  And not allowed to have sex for the rest of their child bearing years.
  3. Scream at my child in the middle of a crowded mall.  Or grocery store.  Or anywhere for that matter.  When I pass a mother dressed in designer clothing, hair done nicely, dragging around dozens of shopping bags from places that don’t include Wal-Mart or Baby Gap, screaming “Jesus Christ you’re so damn annoying” at her children, I feel that maybe something is wrong with the situation.
  4. Forget to apologize for anything.  Maybe it’s just me, but if I so much as bump into someone at the store, I say “oh, sorry”.  I had someone nearly knock me over today and look at me as though it was my fault for being there in the first place.
  5. Leave the dishes pile up.  Okay, okay.  This one might not happen, but it’s good to be optimistic, right?

Christmas was lovely in good ol’ NEPA.  I’m still waiting for two gifts to arrive (one to me, one to Zach) and enjoying my day off before the work week resumes yet again.  I’ve decided to skip the New Year’s Eve festivities and instead babysit.  A little bit of extra money sounds better than getting drunk and having to drive home the morning after so I can get to work on time.  When did I get so old?

He was right, I may be crazy.

December 23, 2008

He said that our love shouldn’t be directed to only one person and that physical relationships do not equal love.  I fought, said I couldn’t understand him, and that by no means did I want to be having sex with other people while in–what I define as–a committed relationship.

Today I sort of had a breakthrough of sorts.

I have love for so many people.  While this love may be different for the people who whom I direct it, it’s love that is impossible to harness and throw onto only one person.  While visiting at the nursing home today, I sat with a woman who usually finds her way into a chair next to me when I swing by for a visit.  We spent about half an hour simply sitting in silence with one another as she tried to eat a candy cane that my mother gave her. I may only have known this woman through the limited contact I have with her a few times a year, but I love her.  No, I don’t just throw this word around, I truly do.  I get attached to each person that enters my life; the only difference is the extent to which I do this.  Some people linger, therefore, I typically have a stronger bond with them.  While many of these people are entirely unaware of these attachments I form, the moment they are out of my life, I feel a loss.  It’s not a loss that causes me to stay awake crying at night (although some of them do) but it’s a loss that is present at different moments throughout my life.  Some days I recall a face that I saw while working at a job I had in high school, while other days I think about a relationship I had in junior high while I drive to campus.  

My love is without limits.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to love in a different kind of way.  This person has shown me that love is truly open to being shared with more than just the person you want to grow old with; instead, you can share that wonderful emotion with anyone around you.  While I’m typically reckless (hense the handful of broken hearts I’ve dealt with in the last twenty years), I honestly love without regret.  Every bad moment has taught me something new and every great relationship has blessed me in a unique way.  

and now, back to some crappy television.

..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.

…if you read back to the first post, I think I recall stating how I’m terrible at keeping a blog, how journals never worked for me, and how after awhile, the appeal wears off and I realize that I’d rather spend the half hour that I use to blog hitting the snooze button instead.  Don’t get me wrong, I love to write and blogging is fun (when you look at those stats pages it’s quite exciting–even if it’s just the same person visiting twice in a day).  So here I am, “working” (I use quotations because I’m essentially getting paid to watch an empty room) and I feel as though the best way to kill time between knitting and doing program layout is to blog.  About how I forget to blog.  

I finally finished my “To do + finals” list today as of 9:26am.  I am now officially a senior despite having three semesters left at the college, but I’m looking forward to the absence of gen eds (minus one more terrible lab science) and the influx of art classes.  I jumped half a grade (B- to a B+) with my art classes this semester, so in the words of someone else, it was “a step in the right direction”.  I’m hoping to find more luck in other places (printmaking, anyone?) so we’ll see how that goes in the spring.

So with the new year a few short weeks away, I’ve been trying to figure out a short list of things I want to work on.  Not really resolutions, but more a to-do list for the next six months.  Something a bit more ambitious than doing the dishes but slightly below saving the universe.  In no particular order, my to-do list for January-June 2009:

> get more ambitious with my work:  It’s not that I’m slacking, but I often feel like I “play it safe” when it comes to academics.  I don’t take the easy road, but I rarely challenge ideas or think too far out of the box when it comes to my artwork.  I’ve been told I have great ideas for what I’m creating, but I just need to take the steps to put them into practice and make them realizations.

>keep on top of stuff:  I never was forgetful.  Sometimes I feel as though I’ve aged sixty-five years because of my tendency to walk into the kitchen with a hair brush and not remember what I was doing or what in God’s name I carried something across the house for.   I’ve pulled too many all-nighters, watched too many projects get thrown together in a hurry because I simply forgot.  Not that I did something else, but that I didn’t notice the scribble in my planner or I washed my hand that had the reminder scrawled across it.  I just have to get on top, stay organized, and somehow work on my memory skills.

>nag less, love more:  I wouldn’t call myself a bad friend or lover, but I feel that after living with someone or knowing them for who knows how long, we tend to get nit-picky.  I need to back up, remember why in fact I love these people, and do just that.  Who cares if they leave the toilet seat up or forget to make the bed?  Why should I mind if they don’t always have the time for me that I wish they did?  I just need to love what is available and enjoy what’s here now.

>stop worrying so much:  Getting worked up over small stuff only irritates ulcers.  It doesn’t stop the C- from coming back on my Science exam or fix the thing that I forgot to do.  I need to just “roll with the punches” over things that I don’t have much control over.

>lose ten pounds learn to love who and what I am:  I have to just do that.

So I have six months to try, another part of my country to see, a visit to Central America, and lots and lots of people to meet.

Can’t wait.