I also have some sneaking suspicions that he might be gay.
Dammit.
That aside, my class is briefly discussing several student-written short stories on Tuesday, and because I want to super impress this boy, I volunteered to have my story be one of those we'll be discussing. I'm nervous. I want to dazzle him with my words! Also, the title of the story is Bully in The Alley, and since most people don't know that's a nautical term, and what it means, I'm expecting a lot of questions about that...
But...this boy. He seems so great, so far. I'mma go sit around being hopeful for a few hours, and working on some more stories/poems or whatever.
I love how fond of the phrase "I'mma" I've become. A+, Kanye.
I'm really nervous. What if I forget how to make small-talk? I used to be super bad at that...what if I relapse? God damnit, I'm psyching myself out. I need to shut up and just go play with some clothes and makeup.
Agggghhh.
2010, don't let me down now.
(Get it, it's like that episode of Lizzie Maguire with the yearbooks and she realizes Gordo loves her and it means I love 2010...yeah...
Sorry.)
1) Be more glamorous. I'd like to be more put together and stylish. It's fun to dress up, and it makes me feel good about myself, so why the hell not, right? Plus if all goes as planned, I'll be living in Chicago next year.
2) Be more organized. I always say this. This year it's gonna happen for real. I'm cleaning my room, keeping careful track of work/school/etc.
3) Devote myself more to my writing. I tend to go through bouts of "holy shit write write write" and then "eh, I am so unmotivated, whatevs". So this year I'll start devoting at least a little bit of each day to writing a certain amount of words or something. I'll refine this one a bit later...I should start doing oneword.com again...
...And when I was contemplating the last resolution, I realized that I haven't finished a short story in a long time, when I used to bang out at least a drabble a week. So Jasmine gave me an assignment:
-Write a story at least 1k words in length. The characters involved must be two girls and a boy. The story must focus mainly on colors, and have a happy ending.
My immediate thought was, "Oh, I'll write a story about someone with synesthesia". So I started reading about it so that my story can be accurate or whatever, and I get to the section on Ordinal Linguistic Personification...a form of synesthesia in which numbers/days of the week/months of the year/etc. evoke very specific, consistent personalities.
Which has been something I've experienced for as long as I can remember. Days of the week have very specific personalities for me, and Thursday has always been my favourite day of the week because it has what I consider to be the best personality. I never knew it was a manifestation of synesthesia, though. I just thought I was a weirdo.
So in case the like, one or two of you who still read this thing are wondering, and for my own amusement, here's a description of each day's personality.
Monday is male; quiet, hardworking, kind of a loner.
Tuesday is male; unmotivated, a little slow, very laid-back.
Wednesday is female; very motherly.
Thursday is male; kind of an asshole, but in a "bust-your-balls" way rather than maliciously, and at the same time, intensely loyal. I think the loyalty is what makes Thursday my favourite.
Friday is male; neurotic, frantic, very stressed out.
Saturday is a pleasant gentleman.
Sunday is female; bitchy, manipulative, very untrustworthy. Sunday has also always been my least favourite day of the week.
Anyway, I've digressed...I meant to say something about how I'm considering using this to kind of journal about my third resolution and my writing in general. Synesthesia is more interesting though.
Already more fun than all of 2009.
I feel so weird, wanting this so badly. I'm barely 21. I have more than enough time. I don't want to rush this, obviously, and I still strongly feel that I don't even want to consider any of this for at least five years. But I can't stop thinking ahead, and getting myself excited for all of this.
I can't wait to grow up. It's strange. I don't know...I just had to get this out there, I guess.
I need to come up with a plan. A "let's focus on improving myself instead of remembering how happy I used to be and hating that the reason for that happiness has removed himself from the picture" plan. I need to get better.
I want to be strong and happy again.
But I still miss him so much. I'm having trouble getting over this, I think, because it hurts so much that I can't help but think that I must be better off with him...that nothing could possibly hurt this much except losing the one person who was meant to make you feel complete.
The logical part of me knows this is ridiculous...that we'd only been dating for three months, and were never serious enough for me to even consider that...but the romantic part of me is nearly convinced that I loved - and still do love - him. That I just need to wait...
I don't know. I don't know what to think, what to do, what to...I just...don't know.
Fuck. I've been trying so hard not to admit that I've actually thought I might love him, that I'm just pretending whenever I tell myself I'll get over him and eventually move on and find the real love of my life. I don't know how it feels having put it out there now...
I'm going to nap. And when I wake up, I'll start working on that plan.
I would greatly appreciate it if you'd stop conspiring against me. Please?
Thanks,
Jessie's Emotional Well-Being
Honestly. Here are the things I've suffered in the past month:
-at least seven separate cases of having what is likely an allergic reaction to a food I have not identified yet, which consists of me feeling fine, and then suddenly feeling like there is a stone in my stomache, becoming violently ill until I am dry heaving, and then feeling absolutely fine again
-food poisoning from undercooked lobster
-an ear infection
-an emotional meltdown, which ended with me calling Brendan up in tears and practically begging him to come back from Florida
-a flat tire which canceled by plans to visit my darling Lizz, and apparently cannot be fixed, forcing me to spend $400+ on a new set of tires
-a break-out of hives which has taken over my leg, and is caused by yet another unknown food
I honestly have no idea what to do with myself. I'm sick. I'm tired. I'm already immensely stressed because of school, and I am miserably, miserably lonely.
I can't wait for the Aquadome to open. At least then I'll have work every day that I am not in school, and therefore will hopefully be so bogged down by all of the schoolwork I have to get done in my very limited free time that I will no longer notice how utterly lonely I am now that everyone has gone back to college, Brendan has moved to Florida, and Adam has apparently decided that we can't be friends for now.
...time to add another emotional breakdown to my list.
God, I am such a pile of misery lately.
All I wish, is that I could get back to being who I was before Adam broke up with me. I liked that girl. I loved that girl.
I don't know where she is now...
I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.
For so long, all I had thought to do, all I had wanted to do, what I lived to do, was to write. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to spend my life in front of a typewriter, blazing my way through books and drawing everything I could from them, learning from them and then creating my own stories. And for all that time, I loved writing for one reason. Everything in writing and in reading is so internal...so malleable and open, so completely intangible.
But now, the thought that there really isn't a physical representation of my efforts, and that my words can be bent and twisted to suit the needs of whoever reads them, depresses me. At the same time, though, the thought of not writing upsets me just as much, if not more so. And I know many people my age have no idea what they want to do with their lives, so it may not seem that big of a deal...but I did know. I knew exactly how I wanted my life to go, and I'd known for years. But then everything changed, and suddenly that security was ripped away from me.
Then I started reading Italo Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler... again, and I met a character who uses old books to make sculptures, and the wheels started turning. I thought that I could be a sculptor, and use pages from old books to make paper mache sculptures...but that wasn't enough. So I thought, maybe I could make my own paper by recycling old books and use that for paper mache...
But why stop there? Why not just make my own paper out of every fibre I can get my hands on? And why stop there, when I could take this paper, and turn it into a full-fledged book. And so my new plan is to transfer to either University of Maine at Machias, or Columbia College in Chicago, and to switch my major from English to Book Arts (Papermaking, Printing, Bookbinding, etc.)
I realized that writing novels was just not enough anymore. I have to make books. I want to create every single aspect of the book. The paper, the binding, the writing, the printing...I want it all to come from me.
And then today just sealed the deal. Last semester my English class was just so full of novels that concentrated on nothing but the miseries life offers up, and on attempting to evoke some sort of pity in the reader, and I got so sick of it. I strongly believe that misery cannout be asuaged by concentrating on it, even if that concentration is given to misery in an attempt to release it through writing. So, I was very much so looking forward to moving on to the next English course, and possibly studying something less depressing.
Then, Southern decided to finally assign a professor to my course...and so the general subject of "American Literature" was tightened into "Literature of the Mexican-US Border", and it was too late for me to switch out, since I've already loaded my schedule to the brim and nothing else could possibly fit in that time slot. I was willing to give it a shot, I guess, but the first class changed that. We read a poem I now forget the name of, and it was exactly what I expected from the course:
"Wah wah, life sucked in Mexico, and now that we're in America it still sucks because I'm still unwilling to take the necessary measures to make my life fulfilling and happy."
Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against immigration, and I know there are millions of immigrants that greatly appreciate our country and take full advantage of the opportunities it offers them, and I know there are those who are unfortunate enough not to encounter these opportunities...but the ones who fall into that latter category and are hard-working and sturdy enough to keep at it and attempt to create their own opportunities never seem to feel the need to write about it, and so it seems literature is left with the misery and pity-fishing of those who are unwilling to take life by the reins and really do something about their situation. And, based on my studies in the field so far, I feel this applies to all genres of literature, and all of the situations these different genres/styles might discuss.
And so that was the final straw. I just can't deal with the misery anymore. It's far too depressing, and it frustrates me.
So if I do not get into UMM or Columbia I...I just don't know what I'll do, really. If I have to stay at Southern, then I will most certainly still be changing majors, and I'll find a way to pursue the Book Arts outside of school, or in a graduate program. But if that is the case, then I'm really not sure what I'll do for my major. I know it seems silly to change this late in the game, but I'm really not too far into my English degree anyway; I've mostly been trying to knock away core courses and GenEd requirements. As of right now, I'm considering maybe switching to Anthropology with a concentration in Linguistics, or maybe a Studio Arts major with a concentration in Jewelry/Metalsmithing.
But really...I don't know.
I better get in to UMM or Columbia. :S
- Mood:
apprehensive
Not right now...and not for good. I think I just need to...go away. I need to find somewhere else to be, like for the school year. I need to transfer out of Southern and go away for school. I don't do well being here all the time. I need to find somewhere new, somewhere of my own.
Somewhere where there's nothing holding me back and keeping me from moving on. I might as well still be in high school, and I was finally getting sick of it...but then I thought I found something that made staying in Branford feel good, and right.
But now it's a reason - really, the reason - I need to get out of here.
God damnit. I was doing so well. I mean, I did have a bit of a breakdown the other day...but that was just an off day. It was "every tiny little thing makes Jessie sorrowful because she has major PMS" day. But for some reason, these past two days have been hell.
Sorry that my updates have been pretty much non-stop angst and broken hearts and woe and sorrow and self-pity since May 3rd. :/
I'm not unhappy, really...not overall anyway...but then again, I was never as happy - even outside of the romantic aspect of my life - as I was during those four-ish months. I want to be able to get that back. I guess I just need to keep telling myself that it'll take time, and everything will work out for the best and eventually be the way it's meant to be.
I'm just having a hard time believing that the way it was is not the way it's meant to be...
Especially since I just found this survey that
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
saku_teiki posted, and I am going to be posting myself, now. Because question number 10 is "What is your philosophy on life?", which reminded me of my forgotten philosophy, and remembering it made me feel even better:"Fall in love as often as possible, because even unrequited, difficult, or painful love has a thread of beauty running through it."
So, here is the survey and a giant, genuine smile for all of you.
Fill it out in a comment, pleasies! They will be screened just in case there's some info you people don't want to be seen by others.
( Survey Survey Survey!! )
However, I'm willing to admit this change is most likely due to the fact that I'm starting to feel like the "ex" who just happens to still be friends with him, when really, I want to be the friend who just happens to be an "ex". If that makes any sense at all. But then again, there's also the distinct possibility that it just feels this way because he and I have never really been "just friends" and so things feel different just because what I expected was based on when we were interested in each other but not together.
Remember that time I said I was done talking about this in my Livejournal? Ha.
saku_teiki !!1. You can ONLY answer 'Yes' or 'No'.
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone comments you and asks— and, believe me, the temptation to explain some of these will be overwhelming. Nothing is exactly as it seems.
( Yes or No Meme )
Apparently she had kicked over a cup of soda that was on the coffee table, and had flipped out trying to get paper towels in time to stop the soda from doing whatever she thought it was going to do to the coffee table. So she felt it necessary to scream "I'm dead, I'm in so much trouble" over and over and sprint into the kitchen, where she was so desperate to get the paper towels that she pulled the roll holder clear off the wall, thereby knocking over a box of pasta, which spilled all over the floor.
When I came downstairs to find all this out, I figured the least I could do was clean up the pasta - since I had accidentally left it out after making myself lunch today. Unfortunately, I also had the brilliant idea to try and talk Kelley down, get her to be a little more rational about the situation. She just started yelling at me about how the entire thing was my fault for leaving the pasta out. So I admitted that yes, I should have put the pasta away when I was done with it, but that she wouldn't have knocked it over if she hadn't over-reacted to spilling the soda.
Which was the. worst. idea. ever. Because, she then started yelling and crying about how awful I am and how living with me has made her fucked up and crazy...
...and through it all, her boyfriend, Dan, tried his hardest to calm her down, make her feel better, and he was so incredibly sweet and patient about it, and it was so obvious that he really cares about her quite a lot. And so, I just completely broke down, because the only thought I could think at that moment in time, while seeing him be so patient and wonderful with her, was:
"How can someone so self-absorbed and, let's say it, just plain bitchy as my sister find someone so sweet and kind who clearly cares about her so much, when the only person who has ever come close to loving me couldn't stop himself from comparing me to someone else, and finding that I just did not measure up?"
I lost it. I could not keep it together, once I had thought that. I have never cried as much in my entire life as I did because of that thought.
And then, all I could do was hate myself for thinking that. For attempting to rationalize something like love (not that I'm going to call what either Kelley and Dan have or Adam and I had love), for thinking that the way you act in one section of your life could possibly guarantee what you get out of the rest of life...for even having the thought in the first place. I used to pride myself on the fact that, despite being such a fantastically hopeless romantic, I never really thought like that...that everyone thing was always "What happens happens", "If it's meant to be, it will be", and all that instead of "Why isn't it? Don't I deserve this?"
But nowadays, it seems the only thoughts I can think are self-pitying and despairing and longing for something I know I can't have. Okay, so I've always done that last part, but it was always kind of wistful and never as desperate and dark as it is now...and I hate it.
I want to fix myself. I'm going to go try and figure out how to do that...
I still can't stop thinking of him and wishing that everything will change, hoping that if I just hang in here and wait it out a bit longer...
I reread The Time Traveler's Wife yesterday which was definitely the worst idea...even worse than when I watched The Fountain twice in a row the morning after the "break up". But it's just toooooo beautiful. I couldn't help it. Although, it was definitely not helpful, considering it just made waiting seem like a much better, grander, more sweepingly romantic idea, and I should probably be trying to walk away from that...honestly, though, I don't want to.
So here's a poem. Love After Love by Derek WalcIott. Audrey Niffenegger included it before the dedication of Time Traveler's Wife, and I think it presents an idea/feeling I should be focusing on right now...
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in you own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
FIRSTS
1. Who was your 1st prom date?
Katie Hackley, yo!
2. Do you still talk to your 1st love?
Yuppers...not as much as I'd like to, though. :/
3. What was your 1st alcoholic drink?
Rum and Coke.
4. What was your 1st job?
Folding clothes at Jason's Dry Cleaners.
5. What was your 1st car?
My loverly little Subaru Outback. The Mach 0.
6. Who was the 1st person to text you today?
No one, so far
7. Who is the 1st person you thought of this morning?
Adam
8.Who was your 1st grade teacher?
Ms. Mulchahy. I have no idea if that's actually how you spell her last name.
9. Where did you go on your 1st ride on an airplane?
Connecticut. My Grandma had moved to Florida and we drove her car down for her, then flew back home.
10. Who was your 1st best friend?
Miles. I don't remember his last name right now...
11. Where was your 1st sleep over?
Gosh, I can't remember at all. Probably Miles's...
12. Who was the 1st person you talked to today?
Brendawg!
13. Whose wedding were you in the 1st time?
I've never really been in a wedding...I played flute for my Uncle Frank and Aunt Karen's though...
14. What was the 1st thing you did this morning?
Watched a movie. The Other Boleyn Girl, to be precise.
15. What was the first concert you went to?
David Bowie!!
16. 1st tattoo?
Don't got one...but I plan on a butterfly, for my cousin. Don't know where I'll put it yet.
17. 1st piercing?
Ears.
18. 1st foreign country you've been to?
I was in Aruba when I was an itsy, bitsy baby. But the first I remember would be Austria.
19. 1st movie you remember seeing?
I don't quite recall, but it's probably either Peter Pan or The Wizard of Oz.
20. When was your 1st detention?
Eighth grade. I got a detention from Mrs. Gallagher for not returning a library book on time. What a bitch.
21. Where did you 1st live?
Some little apartment in Wilton. I don't know the address because we moved when I was two.
22. Who was your 1st roommate?
JenJen
23. What was your 1st school?
Does PreSchool count? If so, Pine Orchard. If not, Mary T. Murphy.
24. Who was your 1st kiss?
Nick Camp :/
25. What was the 1st thing you ate today?
I have not yet eaten, but it will probably be either frozen waffles or scrambled eggs with hot sauce.
So I went out and bought a few practice books specifically designed for improving tone...and I'll set aside two hours of practice time every day from now on. I didn't realize how much I missed playing...until I picked up Dance of the Blessed Spirits/Orphee et Eurydice. That was my absolute favourite way back in the day, and it's still so beautiful and moving. I want to be able to play it even better than I could before.
I wonder how accurately I could teach myself to double-tongue...
Man, I wish Cindy hadn't moved to Virginia. If she were still around and I hadn't had to search for another teacher as excellent as she was (which was a futile search, evidently) then I wonder if I'd have kept at it with the flute.
New Biggest Regret: Giving up flute lessons.
Wow. Um...I honestly have no idea what I feel/think right now. :/
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