Silent Distance

When I picture the distance in my head, all I see is navy blue, stretching as far as I can see, and I can see quite a bit. It's almost as if spotlight it just all around me, not from a certain point but everywhere and although I know I'm standing, I know it isn't ground beneath me. The light around me is a neon blue and just as bright and shining.

You know the legend of a red string tied from your finger to the finger of the one you're meant to be with? Your true love? Well here in my head, it's that seem neon blue and it isn't a string, or even a ribbon - it's an entire road leading back to him. The road isn't easy, with twists and turns and tricks but it can be conquered. I just don't have a way to conquer it and the path leads out of sight. At times it's hard to picture him.

But Friday he came to visit, finally, after not having been with him for a month. I was finally able to touch what had become little more than fantasy, a fantastic dream. It was like a ghost turned into flesh and bone, all those phantom touches felt again and memory replaced by reality. It was so good to have him in my arms again, so very good and my arms have felt empty ever since. Everything has felt empty and hollow ever since. He is the one that completes me, my other half, my soulmate. He and I gave each other our hearts freely and I would never do anything to jeopardize my happiness with him.

So while he was here, why did I cry so much? Why did I lay there with my eyes open, trembling, tears falling from my eyes? I was wasting precious time with him but that's all it was - precious time. Stolen moments because he had to return to work and I had to return to college. He was going to leave the next day and I was only going to have these few short hours with him. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well that night, even for all of my silent tears. Tears that should have waited until he left.

I cried even then, in the sunlight as we stood in my room and his cousin, that drove up with him who is on leave from the Army, stood outside respectfully, giving us time. I had my arms around his waist and I begged him to take me with him as he wiped away my tears, held me tightly in his arms, kissed me over and over again as he said no. As he reminded me of what my parents would think. Of what would happen if I quit college now, in the fifth week of college. And he stood there with tears in his eyes even though he didn't cry, because he hated that he was the one to upset me.

I can stand the 'good-bye for now' but I could never stand a final 'good-bye' from him. I can let him go although it hurts and for a few days after I've been depressed a little because in the end I know one day we won't have to say good-bye unless it's for us to go to work, when we're married, and then it won't be sad. It'll just be an 'until later'. So yes, I can stand this little pain because in the end, I'll have the greater happiness that awaits us.

Perhaps I'm being foolish, but I can't even imagine what will happen when I go home for fall break in a few weeks.

Destructive Games

I hate when he does this.

When he shuts all of the doors I've taken so much time to open, when I begin to think the bridges we've built are finally able to withstand the weather that is put to it time and time again, I am mistaken and he leaves me alone, cold and weary in the cold once again. I hate this 'if you won't share we me, I'll shut down' when at times, I'm unable to give a clear answer.

And this time? It was me just quoting myself, I wasn't trying to be a pain in the ass, I swear with everything that I am. I said mayhaps to a question in which he quoted me, "That's not an answer." I responded with the rest of the quote, "No, it's an evasion." To which he said fuck it, logged off, and turned off his phone.

Now, I'm not saying that this is unreasonable because we've been having a rough time of it lately, on my end. Why? Because college is nothing but high school drama on steroids with problems in class, with professors, on exams and homework... Everything is turmoil, one that I'd rather not get used to. So I don't blame him for being irritated when I have such problems and try to hash them out myself but still... That would be like me hanging up the phone on him and turning it off. What good does it accomplish?

Hollow

Since I've been here, whenever anyone thumps me on the back or baps me anywhere along the ribcage, it's sounded hollow. Most of the time, when you thump someone along their back or ribcage, you get at least a thunk noise, a solid noise of flesh hitting flesh but I have none of that. No, I just sound hollow. As if someone has stolen my lungs and I can't breathe here. As if someone has stolen my heart and I'm not living, just drifting like a ghost from day to day. It's like some pieces parts are missing and I'm incomplete up here, unfinished, missing the things that make me real, that make me human, that make me me.

Sad thing is I know who has taken my breath away and stolen my heart - he's just in Nashville where I can't get to him.

A Day Early

And it was as if fate had decided that if I talked about storms that it would send one my way. My roommate has been dating this guy for two years. They went to high school together, they went to prom, they've spent copious amounts of time at each other's houses and so on and so forth and blah blah blah.

Apparently, he asked her if they could take a two week break before they wanted to make it permanent. This was spawned by arguments they'd allegedly had earlier on in the week. My roommate only goes home every other week (two weeks) and her parents come up on the weekends when she isn't coming home. I can't even image the amount of money these people are spending on gas.... But anyways, he basically didn't want to get back together with her until she got back.

Well, girl that she is, she (and rightfully so) said no and now things are over between them. Now, this may mean that my quiet weekends alone (I'm beginning to like the pattern of only have to deal with her and her buzzing phone every other weekend, not of course including the weekdays when I deliberately try to be out to avoid her and her phone...) are history. This may also mean that her phone will buzz less. This does mean that she's out on the market and I may have to deal with her bringing guys over. Now, I'm okay with some of these changes but the others? We'll have to wait and see I suppose...

Short, rushed, kinda informative, mostly just blowing off steam, regular posts to resume tomorrow.

Significant Oceans

Everyone's life can be described as an ocean and a ship. It has it's smooth days, where the wind is in your sails and the sky is bright or perhaps a little cloudy if you like that sort of thing. It has it's stormy days, where it feels like you have to hold onto life with every ounce of strength that you have, when the masts have broken and your vessel's going under. You have your in between days, where it feels like you aren't going anywhere, the winds have died; when it feels like you're about to boil, the sun's so hot upon your decks that it feels like hell; when the storms are lighter but just as devastating in the long run, like perhaps a break-up or divorce. To some, that could be the large storm, but in retrospect of some events, they're lessened. So it could just feel like coming to harbor in a safe port.

I've come to view life at college as my big storm. I know in years to come, when the storms become larger and memories of them replace these memories, I'll laugh at how bad I thought things were now, but things are still pretty bad. Not in the sense that I'm hurt, minus some minor cuts and bruises, not in the sense that I'm being threatened, and not in the sense that I'm unable to cope with things day to day. No, this is my storm because my grandmother has cancer for the third time, having to give up the home that was built for her and her ex-husband back when my mom and aunt were kids and live with my parents in their house. This is my storm because my other grandmother is ill and the doctors have yet to pinpoint what exactly is making her so sick, what exactly is making her lose so much weight. This is my storm because I feel like I'm losing a sense of self in this place. Not because there are so many people here, but there are. No, because I've changed from this summer. Yes, it was bound to happen and no, I shouldn't be so surprised, but when I talk to my boyfriend and I don't tell him about nearly falling down the stairs, or guys who think my guy friends are dating me or even something day to day - that's not good.

Being away is enough of a strain, so I sought to distance myself from him instead of provoking more pain on either end. So when I'm told about things that happened at work, things that happened at church or with the family, or even just trips he's had to take, I don't go 'Oh, I wish i had been there. I should have been there,' although sometimes I do like in the case of this past weekend. I simply take it, remember it, but don't attach any emotion to it. I've started bottling things up instead of getting them out in the open. If I discuss something about family problems, I don't always immediately tell him about it and I realize this is hurting us both in the long run if I continue on this path. I'm just not sure how else to cope with this. I mean, it isn't as if I'm across seas, I'm just here in Tennessee, five and a half or so hours away from him, that's all. I should be a bit more mature, a bit more independent than what I'm displaying but it just seems... wrong. So very wrong to be away from my family but especially him.

In my Introduction to Sociology class today, there was something that was on the powerpoint that made me hastily scribble it down in my lack-of-sleep stupor. "Significant others is used to refer to those individuals who are most important in the development of the self." ~George Herbert Mead

I shouldn't allow distance and the frustration and grief of not being able to be beside him cloud my judgement and make me a stranger to someone who has better me and my life and with any luck, will continue to help me improve for the rest of our lives. I only hope that I've helped him in the 'development of the self' also.

What Will You Do, Love?

"What will you do, love, when I am going,
With white sail flowing,
The seas beyond?-
What will you do, love, when waves divide us
And friends may chide us
For being fond? "

"Though waves divide us, and friends be chiding,
In faith abiding,
I'll be true!
And I'll pray for thee on the stormy ocean,
In deep devotion-
That's what I'll do! "

"What would you do, love, if distant tidings
Thy fond confidings
Should undermine?
And I, abiding 'neath sultry skies,
Should think other eyes
Were as bright as thine?"

"Oh, name it not - though guilt and shame
Were on my name,
I'd still be true;
But that heart of thine - should another shar it -
I could not bear it!
What would I do?"

"What would you do, love, when home returning,
With hopes high-burning,
With wealth for you,
If my bark, which bounded o'er the foreign foam,
Should be lost near home -
Ah! what would you do?"

"So thou wert spared - I'd bless the morrow
In want and sorrow,
That left me you;
And I'd welcome thee from the wasting billow,
This heart thy pillow -
That's what I'd do!"


~Samuel Lover

Passing Thoughts

Okay, so I lied, I didn't get a chance to post last night. So to make up for that, I'll do two posts right now. One, a writing from Tuesday, and three, a post for today.

I'm surrounded by freedom and the air is sweet. It rained earlier today and I am greatly enjoying the sun through the clouds. It's rays are muted and yet they still lend light to this bustling campus. Voices are overheard, snippets of conversation that leaves the unintentional eavesdropper with an urgent sense of curiosity to learn more. People laugh and joke among themselves as cars weave around groups on their way to class, to eat, to study, or to sleep.

The breeze is cool and damp against my bare shoulders but it recedes, so I don't reach for my jacked. Instead, I continue to listen and to watch. The train, a few hundred feet away from where I'm sitting, creates a steady hum as it moves over the tracks, pierced every now and then by the train's whistle. It's barely four o'clock back home and already the crickets are out in full chorus. Yesterday my roommate captured a cricket that was in our room and set it free outside.

I hear car doors shut, doors to dorms slam, the grinding crunch of skateboard wheels and the hollow sound of the piece of wood that they're attached to echo across the steady din. I feel the thrum of a car engines as they passes underneath where I sit and I hear the cars as their tires crunch over gravel two stories below.

Everything is a rich and vibrant shade of green here, everywhere you look it's green. In some of the trees, you can already begin to see the beginnings of fall. Gorgeous greens take on a sickly yellow-green hue and in some cases, some have already started turning orange and red. I can't wait for the fall here. I have a feeling that it will be magnificent. To think, people pay a lot of money to see the changing of the leaves in Gatlinburg and I get a show right here on campus...

Slime Green Nails and Me

Having attended an art school for a few years in middle school and my entire high school career, I suppose it isn't any surprise that I accept, nay, welcome change. You're talking to the girl who had her ears pierced in sixth grade when she was twelve. Normal you say? Sure, and perhaps getting the second hole nowadays is normal when you're eighteen and a senior in high school too. When I was a freshman, I was given a few spray cans of that temporary hair dye? I wanted purple and green and blue, but instead I received pink and blue. Of course, at that time, I took what I could get. So usually during lunch, one of my friends would take the spray cans out of my locker, where I had them, play with my hair (put it in a pony tail, pigtails, braid it... it was still pretty short back then so they couldn't do much...) and then basically spray paint it. I would get pink and blue stripes, blue all over with purple dots, pink and blue dots at random - you name it, they tried it.

For some unknown reason to me, people have always enjoyed playing dress up with me. They'll bring clothes from home, make up, nail polish, ribbons and accessories and just treat me like a doll. Most of the time, if I agreed with the vision, I would hold still and do as I was told, enchanted with the reality that there are so many possibilities to change myself. They would put me in corsets, put bows on my pigtails, draw spider webs and trees on my face with eyeliner, coloring it with eye shadow. They'd bring a short skirt for me to wear, some fishnet and pants that were tight with straps on them (like the Tripp pants they sell at Hot Topic still), and arm warmers with metal on them. I would come home with my nails painted black, my nails in a rainbow, my hair a colorful mess and make up still staining my skin, but those few hours at school, I was a beautiful little doll in class. They even used to put temporary tattoos on my body or free hand it with a permanent marker in places that I could cover up from my parents...

Ah the days of being a doll... In a sense, I miss it because I didn't have to make any choices, I was just told to bring a few things and then to sit still or put this on. It was easy. A simple metamorphosis before class, a touch up during lunch, and then back to my normal self (with the exception of the nail polish, colorful hair, etc) to go to my mom's work or home. My mom hated what I did with myself, often commenting on how I should stop, but she never really put her foot down. That was always my dad. I think she understood the need for experimentation and I'm glad she allowed me that little freedom.

As I grew accustomed to the environment of high school and started becoming less wild and more subdued (not that I'm anywhere close to being subdued even now), I began to hate being a doll for all the reasons that I loved it. I wanted to choose what I wore. I wanted to be able to go home and not get disapproving looks from my parents and I didn't like having to jump in the shower as soon as I got home, before dinner. I wanted to make my own choices - so I did. I still hung out with the goth/gamer/techie group so my wardrobe consisted mostly of black things, mostly really lose fitting guy clothes that I stole off various people, although some of them were purchased for me. But I did cease the excessive make up and I began asserting myself a little more forcefully.

Even as I adjusted to this new change where no one played doll with me because dolls shouldn't complain and talk back, they should just do as they were told, I evolved further into my current self. I love color, I always have. I've always loved bright happy colors although my favorite color is purple and I'm usually wearing blue. It got to the point where three out of the five days at school, I'd wear mostly black with a little color but then I'd shift to color the other two days with jeans. Then I shifted a little more, to where I was wearing colors most days and black was reserved for a few occasions. Then I stopped caring and basically wore whatever I felt like for that day, including black with bright color, which made a few of my friends tilt their heads at me...

Then I started clothes that actually fit me. One of my boyfriends when I was a freshman pretty much broke up with me because he thought that I wasn't wearing clothes for my body type. Apparently he wanted clothes that were form fitting and at that point in time, I was uncomfortable with my body, pretty much have been since I was a kid, but luckily with a little help (and a lot of love and support from my boyfriend) I've learned to love myself. But now I wear t-shirts that are still guy t-shirts but they're mediums, comfortable, and show off just enough to see that I have a shape but still leave enough to the imagination. I wear jeans mostly and have tried (in vain) to give up my black wardrobe but at least I don't wear black as much. My hair is longer and I no longer color it with anything, permanent, semi-permanent, or washable. If I wear make up it's for a special occasion and usually because I have to (i.e. my sister's wedding, my graduation, etc...). And usually, I reserve the really colorful and off the wall nail polish for my toes. Which brings us to the title, slime green nails and me. I met a girl with purple hair on Monday named Eliza. Short for Elizabeth. Coming from an art school, people in black, people with different colored hair, people that just seem off don't bother me a bit. Actually, they comfort me. Which is why if you took a look at my friends, you'd find it eclectic but mostly made of guys...

You have Joe, who looks like he should be lifting weights, on the football field or something but is actually a very strong, very big lovable teddy bear of a guy. He's in my Honors Composition class. You have Oran, who is in/was (?) in the army and has come back to finish his education who is also rather large, rather muscular, and a lovable teddy bear. He lives about six or so doors down from me in my hall. There's Jordan, who looks rather gay at times but that's because he works at Old Navy... I mean, what can I say... It's Old Navy. But he is also rather large, not that muscular, and a teddy bear. He's in my Honors Composition class too, and my US History since 1877. There's Justice, who isn't much on the large, or muscular, side. He is, however, intelligent, rather funny, and also an English Major so... Met him at orientation and he's in my history class also. There's Dan, who's scrawny and tall, very talented on the violin and rather athletic in the fact that he likes to run. He lives on the third floor and I met him at orientation too. And then there's Michael, his roommate Taylor, his friends Skinner and Jeff. Of the four, Michael and I are the closest, but Jeff likes my massages and the way I scratch his back in circles, Skinner tolerates and gets along with me pretty well because I'm one of the few (perhaps only) girl friend that Michael has... Skinner also called me a lady, which made me blush a little. Taylor, I question his sexuality because I want to say gay but I also know, having gone to an art school, that just because of the stuff you like, the way you wear your hear, and the clothes you wear doesn't make you gay. But anyways, his birthday was yesterday and I made him a card which he's still awwwwing about, he loves it so much.

And Michael? Well, I kinda didn't give him a choice in being my friend or not. We were split up into our mini-groups at orientation, we went around the room and told everyone our name, where we were from, and our intended major. Upon hearing that he was majoring in German and taking into account that he was wearing black shoes, black pants, black hoodie, and had a DS on the desk in front of him, combined with his glasses? I knew we'd kick it off. After the session, I pretty much went up to him and said if I needed any help with German that I was going to bug him. For the rest of the orientation, we ate and sat next to each other, talking about anime, video games, movies, music, etc. Now we see each other whenever the other's bored or wants to watch a movie or something. Not a bad set up but as one guy pointed out in the laundry room, most people would be quite uncomfortable if they stood next to Michael. After all, he's six foot plus, quite big, and rather menacing in all the black. Plus he's crazy as hell. Which made me laugh and hop down from the washer I was sitting on to hug and be hugged by Michael, which made the guy in the laundry room give me a funny look. I told the guy, 'He's just a big teddy bear...' Gotta love stuff like that.

As you can see, teddy bear is the phrase of the day. I call them teddy bears because they can be big bears of guys, violent, protective, and good if you ever need help with a problem be it personal or in your studies, but they're also funny, intelligent, generally good natured, and are really just looking out for you. I think every girl should have like five of these guys lined up... You'll need them.

I meant to post this on September 9th, 2008 but apparently I pressed the wrong button.

Real post for today later this evening.

All In The Name Of A Clothes Basket

So I asked my friend for a ride to Walmart because I needed a clothes basket. He thought it'd be funny to come up behind me while I was at the jewelry counter talking to a woman about replacing the battery in my watch while I was there and kicked me on my ass, sending me slamming into the counter. This resulted in a chewing out by me. Then when I was doing laundry earlier tonight, the end result of me picking up the basket I had purchased earlier was me pulling my back. I had to call another friend to help me move my laundry and carry my basket after I had folded my laundry. Right now, I am rightly and thoroughly pissed.

That's all I really have to add about today. Taking meds, can't carry much in my bag tomorrow... I hate college students, especially male college students who do things that are harmful and think it's funny and the chicks who try entirely too hard and more worried about their looks and their boyfriends than their grades... Oh well, that's pretty much the entire nation with the exception of a delightful and unique few...

Chopsticks and History Class

For the record, I honestly think that Honor classes don't even begin to prepare you for college. When my honors English IV teacher told us that she was going to treat us like we were in college even though we weren't in her AP class, I thought I'd get a taste for the way classes would really be. Oh how wrong I was. She did take things late, she did give us extensions on deadlines, she did give us extra credit... People here will grab you by the balls and swing you by them if you don't read the material, if you don't take the quizzes seriously and especially if you don't seek help for your problem areas. At least I'm learning this early on in the semester instead of the end of it, which is good.

My history class is US History Since 1877 (because the US History Prior 1877 was full when I tried to sign up for it) is actually pretty okay. Sure, it's taught by someone in their fifties, sixties with white hair, a mustache and glasses (pretty much what you'd expect a professor of history to look like) but generally, he tries to make jokes and keep the subject light. He isn't the best lecturer for those of us who would like to take notes because he simply doesn't repeat things. He generally is just a rattling on and on without thinking about repeating years, statistics, names he hasn't written on the board, etc. After you get past that, I suppose some would consider it easy. My problem is that he gives quizzes (announced quizzes, there's one coming up on Wednesday on Chapter 17) that are five questions, multiple choice. Now, either I have a problem understanding the options given to me or I misunderstand the answers given to me to choose from. Or, which is probably the more likely case, I'm not able to compute the textbook. I read the sections, I look up the organizations and people and treaties and such that he gives us to study, but somehow either I'm not grasping what the text is trying to tell me or my study skills are sorely lacking. On this one, I'm voting for both the not grasping the text and my study skills.

Worst of it is, I read the sections then study the morning of the quiz over breakfast with Jordan. This last time, I studied the night before with Joel. You would think I would be better prepared for the quiz but no - oh, no. Jordan got a one hundred on his quiz, Joel's off to class now but since I helped him study before his quiz, I'm sure he also did better than me. I'm going off the fact that he was hugging me constantly after the quiz and calling me his hero and such. So why is it that I'm the one not getting it? I honestly don't understand. I guess it's like chopsticks. Some people pick it up easily, some you have to give the children's version of chopsticks to (where they're attached at the top instead of being separate?), and some you have to teach slowly. I suppose I'm the latter, which bothers me. So I'm off to study for my quiz on Wednesday and hope that the construction outside my window will cease. They seem to be tilling up the land for some reason unbeknownst to me... But everytime something goes -bang- I jump out of my seat like two feet in the air. Gives me a heart attack every time. Music isn't drowning it out which is bad...

I'll post more later probably if I'm not busy, which I don't think I will be but I do have to do my laundry today, running out of clothes. And I have a present waiting for me from my parents next I see them, a webcam and my old iPod fixed. Yay!

Grey Clouds Across the Horizon

Stray trembles course through my bones, my muscles, as I sit here at my desk with thoughts of the week before, with this week, and of this weekend running through my head. All I can think is that I'm tired. Emotionally, physically... I'm just tired. I'm tired of being away from my family, from my friends, from my love. I'm tired of not being able to sleep in my own bed, I'm tired of not being able to see the walls that I painted with my parents, the clouds I painted with my mom. I'm tired of having to share a room with someone who isn't family and who isn't of my choosing.

I'm tired of not being around people who understand me. They don't know how to deal with me when I'm angry and I don't want to talk about it, I just want to cool off, they don't know how to deal with me when I'm acting like a little kid, just excited about anything and everything. They aren't sure how to read my looks or my movements, they aren't sure what I mean by what I say at times, they can't figure me out. For some, it'll probably take years, a lot of them will never be able to figure it out. A few, a very small few will be able to learn and they'll be few, far between, and very dear to me.

I'm tired of having to handle things by myself. Yes, I know, I have people I can ask help from, advice from, but it just scares me , it does, to know that I'm here stranded. I don't mind doing things like my appointments or my prescriptions, but I can't come home and plop the book down in front of mom and dad and say explain this to me another way. I have arms to hold me, but they aren't arms of people that I know well, they aren't arms of the people I love, they're pleasant strangers. When I'm sad and crying, when I'm angry and pissed of, when I'm just being me or sarcastic or silly - they can't deal with it. I just wish I could go home, but I refuse to fail, I refuse to go home from this place defeated. That's why I keep saying that I'll wait a year.

Oh I'm so tired. So very tired. I haven't been able to sleep well and when I have been able to sleep, it's been short naps. I wake up easily during the night, with sounds from the hallway (people coming in the door, people leaving rooms, people entering rooms, people talking on their cell phones, people walking in groups down the hall - I can hear everything). I think I wake when my roommate rolls over, when my refrigerator turns on and hums for a while. I wish I could just knacker myself out so that I can finally get some sleep, but every time I think I've gotten to that point, I found myself awake in the middle of the night and I wish I could find something to help me.

It isn't all doom and gloom, mind you, it really isn't, but sometimes I get to the point where I'm just heart broken. I miss my friends that understood me, that knew me, that loved me for who I am with all of my little quirks. Here I'm just like everyone's little sister, they look out for me but... I miss my family, I miss my grandmother especially even though my grandmother's sickness at times did depress me. I miss my dog, and I even miss that hateful, mean African Grey parrot that's been around since before I was born. Ye gods, I hope he doesn't last until after I'm dead and gone, that would just be too much... Devil incarnated...

I miss the places I used to frequent, even school. I miss the used bookshop in Hillsboro Village (Bookman & Bookwoman), I miss walking up and down the Village, catching shuttles to places around West End and 21st Avenue, I miss walking around Vanderbilt hospital (both the general and the Children's) and the Vanderbilt campus. Since moving up here back in 2000, with my mom working at Vanderbilt since then, I have become very attached to the place, extremely well versed in places where it's safe to cross, places it's better not going, the best food, the best buys... Everything. That was my stomping ground and I loved it so very much. Although I'm versed vaguely where things are here, it is by far no where near what it was like there.

Sure, some say that the longer I'm here, the more comfortable I'll become, but I miss Nashville. I miss the people, the life there, the prosperity. For being Johnson City, it feels very small. I'm tired of having nothing to do, of not being able get my fix of my favorite sights such as the Parthenon, the Belle Meade Mansion, the houses that were built over by the parks that looked like mini-mansions and mini-castles. I miss every road we went down that was familiar to me and I'm tired of feeling so lost. I feel like my compass is broken, I don't know what direction I want to take anymore. I'm just exhausted. There are so many things, so many many things and I'm not sure where to stop, where they stop, so I guess I'll just stop here and try and at least not be tired in the morning. And that reminds me, it's Friday, I can sleep in and now I can turn off the alarm. Huzzah! A small silver lining.

Stray Thoughts On A Word

Please - six letters, three of them vowels, three of them consonants. A one syllable word that is either used in polite conversation or used to mean pleasing or pleasurable. Generally, when I use please, I'm either answering a question of whether I'd like to do something or have something or I'm asking someone to do something for me. Most of the time, my please has a meaning but occasionally I just want to look at someone as say please. Please what? they may ask me but you know what? Sometimes I just don't know. I don't know if I'm pleading for my future, forgiveness for my past, or requesting permission for the present. I don't know if I'm asking for someone to listen to me, someone to hold me, someone to just treat me like a human being - I honestly don't know, there are so many options for that open-ended 'please'.

Perhaps I'm asking for forgiveness for being so far from home, perhaps I'm begging for him to take me in his arms when next I see him and every time after, perhaps I regret the choices I've made up to this point concerning college. Perhaps I regret cheating us of our time together, perhaps I'm sorry for leaving the house when my grandmother is so sick and I feel the guilt of not being there for her. I'm sorry for not being a better person but I hope to change that. I hope to make those who supported me proud, those who thought I couldn't succeed ashamed, and I hope to show those who helped me along the way that I was actually worth the effort. Mayhaps it was a plea for a better life, a happier one, one where I can earn my way instead of relying so heavily on others. I can make my own path in this world, I know I can - maybe it was plea to not have to walk it alone. I don't know what I have to ask for, have to say I'm sorry for, or have to thank for except everything and nothing. Maybe that's the point.

At any rate, I've begun to tremble. Perhaps I should go to sleep. Yes, this is über short for me but if I start typing any more, I will sound like the love sick fool that I've already portrayed myself to be, so I'll cease. Until tomorrow, twitter twitter.

Wish Token

My mother bought me two tokens that I saw that I wanted before I left for college. We hadn't been looking for them, we had actually been shopping for unmentionables, but there they were, on the counter as we were checking out and I just had to get a few. They're metal coin-like objects, about the size of quarters, with shapes cut out the center of them and words written on ether side of the tokens. The first one I picked out was a 'Hug Token', a heart cut out of the center with the words 'Good For One Hug' around one side of it. The other one was a 'Wish Token', a star cut out of the center with the words 'Good For One Wish' around one side of it.

I gave one to my boyfriend on a weekend when I was feeling particularly vulnerable, paranoid about the upcoming leave for college, everything. I, of course, gave him the hug token, because at that time, I just wanted to be held. Hell, I wanted and needed to be held at that time. For most of the day it was all I could do not to cling to him but I finally gave up and just clung to him. He has always been my home, my safe haven, my calm port, my warmth and my light, my joy and my heart. I was glad I got all of the fear and need out of me that weekend because even though it was difficult to leave him in the end, it would have been worse had I bottled it up. He gave me a form of release and relief.

The other token, I have in the bottom of a film canister with quarters on top. Talking to him tonight, I thought of it, and I wished. I wished with all my heart that he were here in front of me or I were there in front of him. I wished for his arms around me, his lips on mine, his heartbeat thundering in my ear... I wished to be curled up next to him, listening to his voice, watching him smile, just in general watching him. I miss the way he walked around, head held high with a mischievous look in his eyes. I miss everything about him, I miss every single thing about him, even the way he bobs his head (which my mother isn't fond of) whenever he's sure of himself or giving me an encouraging signal. I love that man so very much...

Short one for tonight. I miss him too much, and I'm not happy with a few things local, so I'll just let things alone for the night and try to end on a positive note. I love him, he loves me, and we can't wait to see each other again but at least I know we'll see each other soon. Twitter twitter.

Laundry Room Day Dreams

There's something about having to stay in a warm room with the thrum of washers and dryers running that just lull me into a sense of semi-stupor. The sound of the computer and the sound of a motor running (as in a car motor) have the same effect on me but for now, let's stick to the laundry room because I did laundry today.

It's the thoughts that occur during this time of relaxation when it's just me and the machines that really get me though. From my position curled up on top of the eighth washer, which had my clothes in it, I had a clear view of both the doors that lead into the laundry room so no one was going to sneak up on me. But being on top of the washer and next to a running dryer just made my eyelids start to droop so I rested my head against the wall, my ears intent on any sound of the door opening. I opened my eyes several times because my paranoia got the better of me and a noise I'd hear from the machines would sound like the click of the door opening. But it's those few moments where I actually was able to doze in relative peace that had strange images and thoughts filtering through my head. Perhaps it was partly from the heat... I know not.

But the thoughts I had made me think, why am I here? Why am I doing this? Questions he'd asked me before seemed more lethal in this setting of a college dorm laundry room. Why exactly was I here, in this dorm, on this campus? Was it because I wanted to escape family? Perhaps my family was pressuring me to choose to go somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was college? Did I really choose this path? And if I did, what was I thinking? Why did I decide to stray so far from home, why did I leave those who love me behind and decide to go so far away that they couldn't possibly get to me if there were an emergency? What the hell was I thinking when I did all of this? I still don't have the answers for it.

All I know is that I miss my home. Not necessarily the life that I had over the summer, I would offer some drastic changes for when I returned home for good, but I miss my home and I miss the people that I know and those who I was just beginning to know. I forsake one happiness for something that I thought had to be experienced before my life was complete and now I know it isn't the education you get. It isn't the job you receive, the pay you earn, it isn't even the food that you consume that bring you the greatest joys in life. What brings you the greatest joy that you will ever know is another person or a group of people, like family whether they're the family of friends that you chose or the family you were born into.

I feel like a mistake has been made but I know had I not experienced this, I would have gone through life wondering if my not going was a mistake or not. Now I know. Some are going, oh, she's going to give up now. Hardly. I will finish this year at this university and then, depending on what all happens this year, I may transfer home or I may stay and rent an apartment. Either way, things will change drastically from what they are now and I look forward to that day. And any break my love can get to come visit me. But I'll stay off that subject for fear of being too emotional or something silly.

But my laundry finished and all was well in the end. I'm still here and I will remain here. And no matter what my choice, I know at least one person who will always support me, just like he always has. And I couldn't be any more grateful to him for all that he has been and all that he has done for me. My dearest love, my life, my shining star in this bleak immature existence known as college. Whatever happened to the scholars?

Promises and Observations

If I have any audience at all, which is pretty difficult to imagine but I will attempt to imagine one all the same, they are probably wondering as to my inconsistency as of late. After all, prior to these past few weeks, I've been pretty good about updating every day even if it meant posting some of my old things just to pacify this said imaginary audience. Instead, you have been met with silence. I will say this to you now - college is going to stomp all over me for a little while so my schedule may be erratic at times but I will still try to update at least once a day, Monday through Friday, with thoughts and problems and such. That's a promise.

While I was brushing my teeth tonight in my bathroom (our dorm rooms all have private bathrooms for every room since it's co-ed by dorm room not by floor), I dropped a little toothpaste into the sink. Now, I didn't think about it, I was most interested in brushing my teeth, flossing them and the likes but I noticed how that seemingly solid blob had slid down a little, like a paint drop, making it's slug-like way down to the drain. Now, there wasn't enough of it to actually make it to the drain so I had to wash it away but it did get me thinking. Sometimes it's the strangest things that trigger your thought process, you know?

I started thinking about how my college career has gone so far. I've started out solid for the first week or two, I've been eating rather regularly, drinking lots of fluids, eating things like salads which I don't normally eat - I mean, I've been doing alright for myself. And so I think of myself at the top of this wash basin. But the more I slide into college life, the more I'm being sucked into things like late-night movies, hours spent playing video games and the likes. As the weeks continue and I continue down this path, I'll be even more entrenched in this habit of not studying like I should and blowing it off for frivolities. Now, those who are looking at this are either going, That's what college is about, fun!; Boy, that girl has a good head on her shoulders.; or You shouldn't coup yourself up in your room/the library and miss what's going on around you. Now, while all of these statements have some merit of truth to them all (college can be fun but you shouldn't shirk off your studies to have that fun because your grades will fall and then you won't be in college but don't keep your nose to the grindstone, lighten up), I've realized that a better schedule needs to be constructed so that by the time I get to the drain (i.e. Winter Break), I'll have earned that break instead of messing around.

Now, some heads may be spinning as to where this all came from but the explanation is simple. I have reading that I need done before class tomorrow that I don't have done and now I'll be a bit behind in the classes. Fortunate for me, a few of them are lecture style. Unfortunate for me, a few of them don't announce quizzes. So it's a fifty fifty if the material I speed read is relevant to the next class or not. So with this thought in mind, I'll take my leave and impart these words of wisdom to current and future college students - Always check your syllabus!