I'm Late. Again.

It's been a while since I wrote about something mundane and random, and I'm in the mood today. I don't have much time because relatives are coming and I'm usually that person who's never ready when everyone arrives. Today it might be Teagan, though - OK no it'll probably still be me, since I'm writing this instead of changing out of my sweats into real clothes.

Anyway, mundane and random: makeup. I think guys don't really understand what the big deal of it is - sure it usually makes girls look prettier (emphasis on usually), but why does it take so long? I like to take my time on it, and even though I spend about 5 minutes every day on it, I think I was pushing a half hour today. It's an amazing time to think - you have to focus on getting the right shade, layers and lines without overdoing it. It's systematic, though, and the results are pretty satisfying. The reason I took so long today was because I got infatuated with neuroscience again and have been thinking about it for the past two hours. I have all these ideas running through my head about treating paralysis by artificial nerve stimulation - it must be possible to use electricity and smart technology to regain the function of limbs. How would I do it? What would I need to know to do it? Who's already doing it and what will I have to work with after I answer those first two questions? It's stuff like this that gets me kind of obsessed. - it's the stuff my dad does, which probably isn't so coincidental. Oh God, I'm late already, the first relatives have arrived. Anyway, I was fantasizing about nerves while applying eyeshadow, which I thought was kind of funny. Maybe it's just me who has this whole meditation period in the bathroom with eyeliner and mascara, but I don't think so.

Now I'm starving, but the makeup is looking pretty good. Well, it'd better, since it took forever. But I'm still thinking... maybe I'll take it all off and put it all on again... haha just kidding, my mom would kill me...

Ramble

Sometimes I surprise myself with the stuff I come up with. I just went back and read through some of the thinking I did last year - papers which I made a point of transferring to my new computer so that I'd always have them a few clicks away. Anyway, it's all pretty fascinating. It took a lot to shape the final products of these papers, these records of my learning process. I wrote a page about what I think love is, and even though it might sound egotistical for me to say, I'm actually kind of amazed at what I wrote. One day I'll probably look at all of these things and see my 17 year old juvenile self, years and years behind in knowledge, but maybe I was actually pretty dead-on in expressing myself last year...

Anyway, that's a side note, I guess. What I've been thinking about is the future - well, when am I not thinking about the future. I spent the last 24 hours with my siblings, traveling to Pennsylvania to visit our grandmother and bring her back to our house for "Lasagna Sunday" - Christmas #2 with my mom's side of the family. We made a pit stop at my aunt's on the way back (my mom's sister). For most of the trip I was wondering what it would be like to live like this, out in the suburbs where a Friday night is spent in a shopping center because it's the most exciting thing for miles around. I think about what I want in this instant of my life - overwhelming exposure to the world beyond my front door - and get dumbstruck to think that this is the country I live in. There's nothing wrong with a suburban life, that's not what I'm saying, but am I going to be doing that one day? Will that be what I want in twenty years? I spend time either overcome by how much I have left to learn about life or afraid that one day I'll lose the desire to learn all of it. Weren't our parents the way we were at some point, unwilling to settle for a home life and prepared to see the world?

I know that everyone has to make choices about what they want. I guess here's where it ties together - last year I wrote about how love is about learning that other people need you more than your own hopes and dreams ever will. How does this compare to the fact that I've always been taught to go for what I want and let nothing stop me? Already I'm thinking about it in my head... if I want to be a surgeon, that's a lot of time lost for exploring the world... then again, I can't learn everything there is to know... if I was a doctor overseas, I would have to leave my family and would probably have little option to start my own... but then would I have a family at all if I was working as much as I would need to?

It's all far too much worrying for me to be doing at this point, because I'm sure what will be will find its way. But that also scares me - how much control to I have over it? Am I stupid to think I can accomplish everything?

I'm so tired of worrying about all of this. I'm doing it again - focusing more on the future than on the present tense. That drives me nuts. I then miss what's happening right in front of my face. And all this worrying makes me feel like I'm selfish for being so concerned about myself. I guess I have to learn that too, but I think learning selflessness is a right of passage for aging. You have to make those selfish mistakes the first time to learn not to do it again, to see what you miss out on when you're only focused on yourself. I think that's how our parents became who they are - they saw that their future lies in the hands of their children, not their own. It's just such a mess of being aware and unaware, of learning and succeeding and failing... It's ridiculous to try to pin a definition on life, since the topic itself is more daunting than anything imaginable. It's just a thousand things at once - it's happy, sad, love, hate, anger, passivity, satisfaction, frustration... everything. I just don't like when it's all those things at once - that's what really gets me at times. I can take it all in small doses, but maybe growing older is being able to live with it all at once, which is something we have no choice but to learn...

Back To Refusal

So I just deleted the post I had for today, since I have so much more to write about now. I posted the lyrics to Shawn Mullins' song Lullaby around 11 this morning, but I should have known better than to think that would suffice for this day. And not that much has happened anyway, except that I just saw that movie PS I Love You and I haven't cried that much in so long.

It's just that I don't really cry at movies, and I thought that this one was just going to be another cute movie since it was described as the "perfect date movie" in the paper. Well, I don't know what date that writer is going on, but that movie would be hell for any girl who's just trying to look pretty. It was about a woman who has to learn to live again after her husband dies, and learns it by following the letters her husband left for her after his death. It was realistic, which is why I could cry so much - they didn't try to make it seem like all she needed was his memory to survive. She needed more, which was what she needed to learn.

OK well it does sound very cheesy, but see it yourself and you'll know what I mean. I just don't know how my brother made it through the whole thing without shedding a tear, while I had them running down my face after the first 20 minutes. My sister was the same way, which makes sense. I think I just needed to cry, since I haven't in such a long time. Even my mom said that - "You haven't cried that way in a long time," and while my first thought was, "How do you know that?" it was true. The last time I cried that much was when she told me she had cancer. That was over a year ago.

And now I'm back to normal - I'm already forgetting what it was about the movie that had my heart tied in knots. Once again I'm back to believing that life can be what I want it to be, instead of what it really is. It was just such an honest portrayal that I needed to see, and the honesty was refreshing. I think maybe I felt better crying about someone else's life instead of my own, since that's what I've been refusing to do. I still refuse to, but at least I had a two hour break from this constant refusal...

How Not To Get Lost

I went driving this afternoon with the intention of doing errands, only to realize that I didn't actually have any errands to do. Errands are just an excuse to go driving for me, anyway, so I decided to go without an excuse this time. Although technically I was "at the bank" if you ask my mom.

I decided after a few minutes that I was driving to clear my head and get out of the house after being inside so much in the past few days. That was part of it, but as I kept driving, I realized I was challenging myself to get lost. I went across town to the part I don't drive every day, but was dissapointed in that I kept finding myself in familiar places. I think the longest I lasted was about 2 minutes in an unfamiliar neighborhood before I was back on a main road. I didn't realize how interconnected everything here is, and that after living here for 18 years, I do actually know a lot of it. I was surprised that I couldn't physically get lost here, because I've always thought that there were parts of town I didn't know at all. Well, I was wrong then and all I really discovered was that this town isn't all that big.

I then realized that I knew this all along, and if I really wanted to get lost all I had to do was cross the border into another town. But of course I didn't want to do that. Why was I driving, then, if I only wanted to get lost in familiar places? Maybe I was looking for something new and unfamiliar in a place I know so well. The fun was gone when I did actually cross the border and now had serious potential of getting lost. It was a strange drive, overall, because I didn't even have good music anyway. I went through an old CD from the summer very quickly, one I had made at a very different time, and found that none of the songs were really that good for thinking.

Then I thought maybe I'm driving to be an anonymous part of other people lives, but that's not so easy to do when you're driving a bright orange car. It just doesn't happen - it's like every time I take that car out, someone recognizes it. I had to go back to my first reason - maybe I'm just driving to clear my head. Yet I've spent too much time clearing it out lately, so maybe I was looking for something to distract me from all that frantic mind-cleaning. I don't know what I expected to find - it was just neighborhood after neighborhood, stoplight after stoplight, left after right after left.

But whatever I was doing, it worked - I wound up walking out of Starbucks with my favorite drink in hand to hear a little voice in my head saying, "Time to go home." I came home and now I feel better than I did, even though I'm not sure what I felt before my dissapointing adventure into the vast jungle of my hometown. But I was happy to come up the driveway and see that my mom, brother and sister had gotten home from shopping, so that the house wasn't so quiet anymore. Maybe I'm not that tired of my family - maybe just tired of being in the quiet?

Time To Get Up

OK well family time was good while it lasted, now I'm all family'd out and ready to move on to the next thing. That sounds awful, I know, but everyone gets what I mean. At some point, when we we halfway through Ridicuously Large Dinner #2 (#1 was Christmas Eve), we all kind of got tired of it. Well, the kids did, at least. I mean so many good things happened today - we all recieved great gifts, we enjoyed staying in pajamas till mid-afternoon (which would never happen otherwise in this house) and we even enjoyed watching the dog run around with jingle bells on his neck, astounding us with the delight he took in being so noisy. It was a good holiday, and yet I was aware that these holidays will also change. I think we're all ready for it, too, because we're old pros at pulling off these kinds of Christmases.

They'll change soon enough - Teagan will be out in the real world next Christmas, maybe even flying home for the holidays for a brief break from real work. I plan on making my own changes, and though I have no idea which ones will have occurred by next Chrismas, I know some will have. It sounds bad to say it, but maybe my grandmother won't be around anymore, which would change a lot. What happens when we start having Christmas at one of my sibling's houses, with new additions to our own families? I like thinking about it, because every set of traditions needs to be fixed up from time to time. To me, Christmas has always been a time for being with the people who mean the most to us, and I could see at the table tonight that for my brother, my sister and I, there were a few people missing. I know we're ready to move on because we now know that family extends beyond genetic similarities.

Now that Christmas has passed, it's the post-holiday daze that ensues - everyone gets sick of their family after a while and is ready to get back on the road. I'm still worried about that road, because it's not as cheerful as some other peoples, but now I have a direction to head towards - change. If I've learned something since last Christmas, it's to seek what makes you happy. I know I go on and on about how difficult that is, but I know for sure that it's always a challenge worth facing. I don't want to pretend that I have an inevitably rough path ahead of me, because I'm choosing it myself. Yet I know that last year I wouldn't have known enough to make that choice, to decide what's best for me when it's not the obvious answer. Maybe I'm wrong, too, but I'm also willing to make mistakes if they'll bring me closer to the truth.

As for my parents, they're probably a little more wary of these changes - they've walked in our shoes before and know, to some extent, what lies before their children. But they see the need for change too - they see that our family of five could use a little expanding in the future, that a little more drama might make the holidays more exciting for all of us.

We're still on vacation for a few more weeks, which might get to be rather long if I spend too much more time in this house. To quote my uncle, who will be arriving on New Year's Day for some more family time (ack!)... "Let's Get Crackin'!"

Family Dinner

It's finally Christmas Eve, and it finally feels like it. I've been spending a lot of time with friends lately, knowing that there would be family time later, and now I'm ready for it. I forgot that times like this, when our whole family is together at once, are getting less and less frequent as time goes on.

However, as our time together decreases, I think we tend to appreciate it more. We get in fewer petty arguments, we enjoy better meals, and we actually talk to one another instead of running out the door to be somewhere else. Well, I'm guilty of that lately, but I'm glad they don't hold it against me. Tonight we're all making dinner together - food is a thing we do, apparently, because our holidays usually depend a lot on the menu :-). Tonight we're giving Mom the night off, even though she's been cooking all day for dinner tomorrow. TJ made the appetizers, Teagan made the salad, Dad's making the tuna and whatever's on the side, and I took care of dessert. That basically means the ovens have been on all day, so that Mom gets a little time in the kitchen with each of us as we take care of our part of dinner.

Somehow today is different - we're all still doing our own thing, but are more mindful of one another. My dad was in the den, watching football by the fire while doing some paperwork (he's awful about working so much, but he does it more of as a habit than anything else). Teagan was in her room, but not in the standoffish way she can be - just lounging, especially since the one person she'd be talking to instead of us is now in Ecuador without a phone or a laptop. TJ was showering for about an hour (it's genetic, I swear) and came to find me in the basement to start a game of pool after I finished working out. It was nice to know that we're all here and staying here for the day - tomorrow will be the same way.

And now I've gotten all dressed up to go nowhere - corduroys, a new sweater, new shoes... nowhere, that is, except to the kitchen to start on the 7 layer dip and brie. Soon it'll be the five of us, talking about God knows what for God knows how long. We always do, and yet it never gets old...

Merry Christmas :-)

Waking Up On The Wrong Side

I woke up so frustrated this morning. I hate it when that happens - it's not too often, but usually it happens when I'm brought pretty blatantly to the life I'm living. It was the kind of thing where I just don't want to get out of bed, even though my only hope for relieving the frustration is to go do something about it. I got that feeling like I was stuck under the covers - why get out when it's only going to be harder than it's been?

It was a strange feeling to have, I admit, during a break from school and after being with some very good friends the day before. It probably was the combination of the two that did it - being with these friends somehow reminds me that this isn't going to last forever, as I once thought it was. I'm not worried that I'll lose them as friends, but this can't be our lives, living here and being together. Nor do any of us really want it to be, but personally I just see what I had a year ago and feel the overwhelming need to find something to compete with it, something that I can look at and say, "Oh, yeah, this is definitely better than last year." But then I wake up in the morning and look at what I can't have and get overcome by it.

I can think of my happiness on a meter, like a speedometer, only it's happiness levels that increase left to right instead of miles per hour. It's probably a completely inaccurate way to track happiness, but at the moment I can picture it in my head. It seems like I've spent so little time in a stable state at the far right of that meter, while the rest of the time I bounce violently back from one end to the other. I refuse to let myself be happy in this moment, being here, because I know it's temporary and I'll soon have to get back to work - I can't let myself forget that. I'd probably have woken up in a much better mood if I was able to forget that.

Sometimes I get frustrated to the point where I consider how futile my frustration is. Why do I get so worked up about it? Because I care, obviously, but caring to the point of waging internal warfare has to be a sign that I'm overdoing it a little. I can't help but care about all of it - what's here, what's at school, what I have, what I don't have... and yes, I intentionally put those subjects in their respective places between those commas. There are times when I wish I was good at letting go, so that maybe life would be a little easier, but then I jump right back and realize that not letting go is something I do for a reason. This is probably a part of myself I should explore - why do I hold on to things so tightly? Perhaps it's simply just a fear of losing things that matter to me, but I know it's more than that. I know I do it for a reason, and not a bad one either - why does letting go always have to be the right answer? I think I convince myself that I can take the emotional strain of holding onto everything that still matters to me. Sometimes, like this morning, I feel a strong urge to let go of all of it. I then realize that I could never let go, because holding on so tight (even when people are telling me give it up) is how I live my life. I have yet to find enough reason to change this part of myself, and though the lines that are being drawn daily in my life make it harder to bear, I also grow a little better at understanding what's important to me by knowing what I hold on to the most.

Faith and Fear

I've kind of been thinking about this blogging thing over the past few days. I finally have relief and peace effortlessly, every day - relief and peace that I used to cling to Iridescence to find. For some strange reason I'm finding it difficult to write when I'm happy - perhaps I no longer feel the need to remind myself that life is good, when it seems so apparent to me now.

I still have worries - how do I tell my parents that I plan on filling out transfer application forms? What about the day I wake up and it's January 15th, the day I have to go back to work and can no longer live in this blissful and carefree state? It will happen and I don't deny that - I just have to figure out if I'm going to take complete advantage of this newfound (or re-found?) freedom or live conscious of the road that lies ahead. I think I'll do the former.

Anyway, there are so many things I could say, but I feel that they would mostly be worries. Why is it that when I'm spiritually unsettled, all that comes to mind are life's joys, while when I'm spiritually content, all that comes to mind is everything in life that's ultimately unsettling? I wish I could pick one and be 100% joy all the time. Yet it's so hard - when everything crappy, I'm inclined to motivate myself with hope; when everything's comfortable and happy, I'm inclined to want to tear it down and convince myself that it isn't the way it feels. I think about what I don't have, what I want and may never get, what lies ahead of me that I can clearly see, what lies ahead of me that I will never see until after it's gone... endless. I feel guilty, having this satisfaction that I've missed - as if feeling this way is unjustified and unrealistic. When will I ever be able to say, "Screw realistic! This is what I want!"?

We all know that that's the ultimate - knowing what you want and going after it. Yet I never know if that's what I'm doing - when do I go after it and when do I not? When do I stay and wait, and when do I go running? There are so many things I do without realizing it, so much time spent unconsciously living.

There are still so many things I want, but which I am either too afraid or too sensible to go after. Well, maybe there's no difference between those words - fear and sensibility may as well be synonyms. I hope I can strive for insanity, life without fear - living without obstacles. Is any fear really useful? What if we could understand the world to the point where fear no longer exists? Perhaps that's one of my ultimate goals - to understand the world to a point where I no longer fear it. It may take a lifetime to achieve, but maybe I could do it.

Conversely, understanding is so passive a word. What parts of my life do I have the power to define?

Perhaps all the parts that I'm afraid of touching?

Fresh Dirt

It's really quite nice to not be overthinking my life at the moment - I'm on break in more ways than one. I didn't have to analyze, worry, interpret, tolerate, or anything today - I spent the entire day dealing with the Great Christmas Tree Debacle of 2007. Which, though it could easily have been the most frustrating thing ever, was thoroughly entertaining both in hindsight and while it was occurring. Long story short - one christmas tree, tons of little lights, a few strands of tinsel, lunch, a leak, a broken christmas tree stand, rapidly siphoning the water out of the tree stand, a speedy trip to the hardware store, and all in all an undermanned rescue operation for the hardwood floors. Doesn't make sense? You get the drift anyway.

It was still fun because it was a mess. Now, whenever I look at the Christmas tree I will undoubtedly think of the excessive and unexpected hours getting it to look as pretty as it does. And it doesn't even have any ornaments on it yet...

I've spent an amazing amount of time outside in the past few days, making up for the dreary ones during finals when the only time I put a coat on was to grab dinner. The skin on my hands is probably pretty rough and my back's quite sore from the shoveling and lifting and everything, but all in a good way. The house looks the way it does for Christmas again, which I'm convinced is the way it should look all year. Why not leave the lights up year-round? Who said that they had to be a Christmas thing, since they look good all the time? The only people who get to use those lights year-round are like owners of outdoor restaurants, since they get to wrap them around trees and have a quick solution for an ambiance. Absolutely nothing wrong with that - I love those places.

And my hands and toes are still cold from being outside (or because my dad refuses to turn up the heat... maybe that too...) and I'm pretty sure I have a ton of sap in my hair from that tree, but I'll wait a little longer before taking a hot shower because I don't really mind being this kind of dirty...

Homeless?

So I wish that I was missing something right now. I am, a little, but not nearly enough to make me want to be anywhere but home. I mean I could be at school, and that'd be OK, but I don't have the overwhelming sentiment that my life is being split in two between my life at school and my life at home. They're the same life, which I guess is a good and bad thing. It's surreal, being back home again and not having any work to do, academically or socially. Yeah, I guess that sounds weird, working socially, but it is.

But to have my feet up, to be wearing slippers and preparing for a lunch made by Mom is strangely abnormal as well. Where was I at this time last year? I had one life, which was nice, and made my life a little more organized. I didn't have athought in the world about college or life beyond the small place I called home. Now where am I? Confused, because I'm kind of a subtle mess right now. I say subtle because it doesn't really show, to me or anyone around me, but I am. That makes it only more difficult to reorganize it, since I don't really know what to do about what I can't detect all the time.

I just don't know what I should be feeling right now, but I'm thinking that it's not this. I'm at home, but it's still my only home - other people come home for Christmas to take a break from their hectic lives, but I'm just floating from one place to another until I get home and can finally breathe. What's that all about? And I don't even know what's left of the home I'm at - everyone else has it figured out fine, and I'm the stupid one who's still stuck thinking "What's going on?"

I hate to be that person who doesn't live life fully and completely. I am NOT that person who fears the future, who hangs on to what they know to avoid learning something new. I'm trying to learn something new while making a new life and putting the old life somewhere safe and quiet, but I'm doing it all out of order. I've got home on the back burner - this isn't where I live, and I'm OK with that and I get it. But where DO I live?

See, confusion. I've let go of home without building a substitute home - it leaves me homeless. Oh I know, believe me, I'm taking advantage of finally being with my family, in my own room and with friends soon, but I feel guilty doing it, like this shouldn't mean so much to me. And I get the questions - "How's school?" "How are your friends (at school)?" - and can answer them honestly - "It's good," and "They're good" - because those aren't dishonest answers. But how do I explain that "good" is never enough?

Motor Therapy

I woke up this morning to one of New England's finest days: freezing rain falling on top of black ice and old snow. Really, it doesn't get that nasty anywhere else in the world :-).

What I failed to realize was that such weather would coincide with a thick sheet of ice covering my car by midday. Nice. Actually, it wasn't bad, because it was nice to be responsible for taking care of a car again. After breaking apart the ice shell my car had developed, it was free for a drive - but I was surprised to find less comfort than I usually do while passing cars on the highway. Maybe it was because they were unfamiliar roads to drive - I actually had to pay attention to my driving, instead of letting my hands and feet automatically attack the roads I've driven so often - letting my mind wander elsewhere.

What is it about familiar roads that's therapeutic? I can think of one of my favorite routes right now: the long backroads through old forests and perfectly manicured houses - some houses new, and some older than the trees. I know where to brake and where to accellerate by memory; I know just how much to pull the wheel with my fingertips to navigate the tough spots, where the road dips into a ditch before violently swerving to the right. There's always the risk of there being another car in precisely the wrong spot at the wrong time, but the threat is never fulfilled.

I guess to most people my driving seems reckless - I'm not surprised, especially after describing how I prefer to drive with a wandering mind. But that's the only way I've ever been able to really drive - finding the edge between being careful and being reckless - and I've probably pushed across that lines a few times too many to maintain a good reputation. The scary part is that my parents still think I drive more responsibly than my sister, and they're still right. But it's got to be something genetic - she and I have led surprisingly similar lives, so it only makes sense that our similarities would extend right into our driving styles. We both like to go fast because it means that you only slow down for things that really matter. We both need the same music - either something that has absolutely nothing to do with life at the present moment or something that has everything to do with life at the present moment.

Driving alone is best when you have something on your mind that you have no way to get rid of - not that you necessarily want to get rid of what's on your mind, but the act of leaving bits and pieces of it scattered on familiar roads somehow puts life back into something that mildy resembles sanity. And then there are the drives where theres nothing at all on your mind, when you're just driving to be suspended for a moments, a minute, an hour. It's escape to nowhere in particular - escape to the grocery store to get a loaf of bread for dinner. Actually, I've made the trip to the grocery store more often for no reason than for a good one, I'm pretty sure. I even got called out on it once by my boss, since I pass work on the way to the store and can be rather noticeable if I'm driving a bright orange car.

All I need now is the drive home - long highways, one after another, leading to an actual destination. I don't know what sense I'll find on those roads. Maybe I'll even find some insanity, which is worth just as much as sanity, believe me.

I also need to get a different punctuation mark - I'm noticing a significant and unneccessary increase in my use of the dash...

Not So Vicariously, After All

So how is it, that after such a good day, I'm about to go to bed so frustrated? It could be because the day's over and I have to go back to work tomorrow, but that can't be it because I'm not really doing work tomorrow. I wish that was it.

No, I guess it's because I come back to realize that being alone today was the happiest that I've been in a while. How do I react to that realization? I don't even know. What I know is that I finally felt relieved, walking the streets of Boston. Relieved of the pressure of having to make my life work, to make it be what I want it to be. I just want it to be what it was today - just the process of following my feet through a familiar city, with the sole aim of finding a box of chocolates for our dinner hosts (Hello Candy, as my mom calls it). I didn't have to be anybody or do anything. I was just walking along Newbury Street, on my way to find my sister across the river. Somewhere on the Mass Ave bridge I found the relief I was looking for - I found the real world. I found a city that didn't revolve around final exam grades or who did what on Saturday night. And while Boston isn't really my favorite city, I was so grateful for it just for being part of the real world. It shows up on a map. It matters to the rest of the world, and for once I could be a part of something that mattered to the rest of the world.

I'm not really sure what I'm getting at, but that's all true. Why do I have to feel guilty for preferring to be alone than with other people? I'm told that I should crave the company of the people I spend every day with, but I realize that I just get by until the next time I can be alone - working out, showering, taking a train, driving...

It's just that I haven't been this way in so long, and now I don't know if I'm allowed to think this way again. I don't know if this is a disease or a symptom - am I getting back into old habits on my own, or is it the result of something else? And why does it have to be a bad thing? It just does, because I'm told that I'm supposed to be building new relationships and finding myself. Well, why is it that I can find myself so easily on a bridge over the Charles River but have such difficulty doing it elsewhere? It's such work to be satisfied day to day here, while all I need is a long coat, gloves, and a destination to walk to.

It seems like all the things I look for, the things I want and the things I hope to find are dissolving just before I'm close enough to touch them...

Boston
Augustana

In the light of the sun, is there anyone?
Oh it has begun...
Oh, dear you look so lost
Eyes are red and tears are shed
This world you must've crossed
You said

You don't know me, you don't even care
You don't know me, you don't wear my chains...

Essential and appealed
Carry all your thoughts
Across an open field
When flowers gaze at you
They're not the only ones
Who cry when they see you
You said

You don't know me, you don't even care,
You don't know me, you don't wear my chains...

She said I think I'll go to Boston
I think I'll start a new life
I think I'll start it over
Where no one knows my name,
I'll get out of California
I'm tired of the weather
I think I'll get a lover and fly 'em out to Spain
I think I'll go to Boston
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind...
I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset,
I hear it's nice in the summer
Some snow would be nice...

You don't know me, you don't even care
Boston... where no one knows my name...

Momentarily Vicariously

I really should stop spending so much time inside, but there's work to do and the weather's pretty rough out there. I climbed up the hill to work out today with snow beating down on me - I swear it wasn't snowing ten minutes before.

I'm looking forward to Sunday, when I'm going back into the city - I'm meeting my sister so that we can drive out to a friend's house a few towns away. What I'm especially excited for is the two hours I have to spend (not kill) in the city on my own, waiting for her to get off of work. I get to be outside around Boston for all that time - I'll be walking past the huge shopping district on my way to meet her at work, so I'll probably stop to absorb the insanity of the stores at the holidays. Who knows, maybe I'll get sucked in by the holiday atmosphere and go shopping myself :-). I do have some gifts left to buy (including one for said sister) and there's probably no place better to shop for her than in the stores where she already spends too much time.

The traveling and fresh air is what I need - I can't think of any better Sunday right now than the one I have coming up. Mass in the morning (yes, I know I'm a church nerd), train for a little more than an hour through the suburbs, lots of fresh air and crazy holiday citygoers, meeting up with my favorite sister (OK, she's my only sister, but she's still my favorite), heading out for a nice home cooked Sunday dinner with people we've known since childhood, and then I get to confiscate the car and drive back here with it. After being cooped up studying these past days, some time moving and breathing on my own is exactly what I need.

It's remarkable how quickly I can readjust myself by spending time alone - I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Is it bad to need some time alone, especially if it tends to happen kind of often, as it does with me? I think that's just what I'm going through, now, and I'm not worried about it. Well, maybe a little - aren't I supposed to be depending on other people though? I can never decide if I'm being too independent, because it's landed me in trouble before and I can't help but be wary of it. Somehow, though, I think I can tell now when it's too much. It's just that it's so much of a relief for me sometimes to be with myself - I'm not on someone else's schedule or someone else's topic of conversation. I can only hear what's going on in my head, which can be amusing or enlightening depending on my mood.

It's the same reason why I love art - it's all about what's going on with you, not really what's going on with other people. I don't think I'll be able to go to an art museum with other people now and really see the art - I get too preoccupied with where everyone else is and if I'm keeping them waiting. The next time I go to an art museum, I won't really see anything unless I'm alone. It's now just about getting up the courage to spend that much time with my mind when it's being so provoked by art. That's what frightens me a little bit about art - it can set my mind spinning out of control, where I usually don't let it go. A good work will confuse me a lot, and confusion is something I could use more of in my life right now. But I'm going the opposite direction anyway - I'm going to the city to clear my head on a cold December day. It's hard to ask for confusion, so maybe it'll come upon me when I least expect it. Actually, maybe that's what I'm going to the city for - a dose of other people's confusion, so that I can keep my distance but still feel everyone else's rush of uncertainty. Detaching myself to live vicariously, if momentarily, through the lives of perfect strangers?

Sounds good to me...

A Better Moment, Captured

OK I really should go to sleep now, since I didn't sleep much last night and I'm trying to get back on a normal sleep schedule, but my iTunes shuffle is on a roll and I really can't fathom ending this amazing lineup of songs it's putting together right now. It's like some crazy marathon music moment or something, and I can't turn it off until a crappy song comes up. Maybe the next one will be Clay Aiken and I can finally go to sleep! But now the music's put me in the mood to stay awake forever - if I was at home, I'd be walking around the house, loving the darkness of all the rooms. I'd be in the kitchen with a glass of water that I'd keep refilling just because I didn't want to go to bed.

I miss those nights, the ones that are so good that I can't imagine closing my eyes and putting the night to rest. That's what I'm going home for - people say they're going home to sleep, but that's exactly what I don't want to do when I get there. I want to be awake as much as possible ( OK yes I will probably regret saying this, but hypothetically speaking this is all that I want). I can't wait to be alone in the kitchen at night, with just a few small lights on, sitting on the counter and kicking the cabinets with my heels because I just can't go to sleep. And by the way I definitely cursed my iTunes, because now the shuffle sucks, but I'm writing this so I can't go to sleep just yet.

Now it's Imogen Heap, which reminds me of late nights last year. It's good music for winding down - there's something about her music that makes me breathe fresh air. What's a better way to go to sleep than breathing fresh air? I probably get that feeling from the way she almost whispers when she sings, so that you can hear the way her lungs are inhaling and exhaling. It's the kind of thing that would annoy my mom, but it's music that's sweet enough to make me fall asleep.

I'm glad I actually got a real post out of this day - I don't like to go more than a couple days without getting to spill my mind out like this. Why does it happen late at night? Because it's when I'm finally alone, I guess. Goo Goo Dolls!

Could you whisper in my ear
the things you want to feel?
I'd give you anything to feel it coming
Do you wake up on your own
and wonder where you are?
You live with all your faults
I want to wake up where you are
I won't say anything at all
So why don't you slide?

Kate!

must... think... happy... thoughts...

phew so being cheerful all the time isn't easy :-P Not that I expected it to be, but I'm getting bored and it's hard work being perky. I'm thinking of all the things I could be doing other than killing time. That's an awful expression, anyway - why on earth would anyone want to kill time? Hopefully I'll eventually get to the point where I don't want more or less time - when I'm just able to take life's moments for what they are, one at a time.

I spent too much time inside today and can't think of anything refreshing to write about. Hmmm... something positive... I had an awesome iced coffee today. It all depends on getting the right ratio of half and half and sugar, plus coffee that's not burned always helped. I made a good one today... Oh tiring. I can't seem to get something to inspire me... I'll settle for some good song lyrics. I could either pick the next song that comes up on random on my iTunes, or I could spend a good deal of time picking a significant song for a reason. I won't tell you which I've done...

Kate - Ben Folds

She plays wipe out on the drums
The squirrels and the birds come
Gather 'round to sing the guitar
Oh, I...have you got nothing to say?
When all words fail, she speaks
Her mix tape's a masterpiece
Walks through the garden
So the roses can see
Oh, I ... have you got nothing to say?

And you can see daisies in her footsteps
Dandelions, butterflies
I wanna be Kate

Everyday she wears the same thing
I think she smokes pot
She's everything I want
She's everything I'm not
Oh, I ... have you got nothing to say?

She never gets wet
She smiles and it's a rainbow
And she speaks and she breathes
I wanna be Kate

Down by Rosemary and Cameron
She hands out the Bhagavad Gita
I see her 'round every couple days
I wanna meet her so that I can say, "Hey ..."
Kate

She never gets wet
She smiles and it's a rainbow
You can see
I wanna wanna wanna wanna be
Kate

A Slow Day on Uppers

Oh good, I'm back here again :-)

Over the past two days, a lot of small things have happened. I've gotten overwhelmed at the frustration my roommate was causing m. I got over it and could breathe again. Someone I know has a roommate who has undergone some crazy change and is no longer the person she used to be. I've heard the story more times than I can count, and realized that I felt negative every time the subject came up with this friend. I let go of that, too. I met the person who I've lived across the hall from for three months (you know what I mean - I knew her name and face, but not who she was). She's not happy either, but I'm glad that she finally got to know me, so that I'm one more person who can make her laugh when she needs it.

I can't do everything, but I can do something. I can't know the world until I know myself - until I see how I'm a part of that world. I am a part of this world, in more ways than one - it's the small links that tie people together, the ones that make you present somewhere. It's because people recognize me that I am here, and I want to recognized only in a positive light when there's so much negativity being thrown around. That's all it takes - don't be the person who calls to mind life's frustrations. Why do we sit around and talk about how tough our schedules are, how much we don't like our roommates, or how awful the weather is? I frankly just don't want to talk about it anymore, because bitching life out has never been an effective strategy for spreading holiday cheer.

I wrote christmas cards to my grandmothers today, which was wonderful since I can't exactly be negative to my grandmothers. I got a package from my mom with these cute little christmas lights that look like happy santas. My roommate was gone the entire day because she was holed up in the library, so I got the room to myself, meaning that the door was open and I could work at my own pace with hallway ambient noise, periodically interrupted by people wandering in and out. Dinner was delicious and fun because we sat around for a while doing nothing but making art out of silverware and styrofoam. Well, actually, that was just me.

Anyway I had a lovely day because I realized that it's pretty much impossible to have a bad day if you're being positive. DUH why is that rocket science? I dunno, it is for some reason. I'm having a conversation with my brother about how our sister eloped and how he got an earring. Oh and he's calling Mom tonight since Dad's out of town for three days, and I'll call her tomorrow and tell her the hilarious story I've been meaning to tell her. Roomie's being a negative nancy again, so I told my brother I want to give her Haribo gummy bears and show her how good the pineapple flavored ones are. I would, but I don't have gummy bears and would rather just let her be with her boyfriend and her negativity, since that's all she wants. I don't know why she wants it, but she does, so OK. Whatever floats her boat.

Tomorrow will be lovely too - I'll probably get bored of having no work (if I'm not already), but I'd rather that than some other things. I'll talk to Mom, mail these letters, get some points back on my chem test, maybe pick up my lab report (wonder how well I did on it?) AND listen to christmas music!!!

One week:-)

Last Monday

I'm in a music bum kind of mood. It's not a day to dress up because the weather's absolutely awful here, so I'm wearing a favorite concert t-shirt with a non-descript hoodie, jeans and socks that don't really match. My hair's not bad today, but carries evidence of being exposed to this weird slushy rain we've got going on up here. I realized this morning in class that I have no idea how to do taxes (nor do I really understand how tax returns work) since I've never had a job that paid anything but cash. I wasn't all that phased by it. I come back to my computer after class and what goes on iTunes? Dispatch, lots and lots of lovely live album Dispatch. Oh and I decided that I'm not a big lover of stale heater air, so I've got the fan going in our room even though it's not even 30 degrees outside. Waste of energy? I think not. I'm doing the environment a favor and sparing it from stale heater air (ew).

Why does this make me a music bum? I don't know. Just trust me, that's the mood right now. I feel completely ready to hop on a tour bus with some obscure band and pretend I know how to play a guitar (though no smoking for me :-P - I have a pact with a friend to honor). And even though I showered last night, I kind of don't feel like showering for a while. YES I know that sounds strange/makes me seem like a grubby weirdo, but it's the honest truth at the moment.

What is this day? It's my last Monday of classes, the last real Monday I'll have for over a month, so that might explain the lack of motivation to work. At least I'm not taking a nap, which is what I'm usually doing at this time on a Monday. Even though I had coffee this morning, I probably could pull off another hour of sleep right now anyway, but hypothetically these two hours before 11 would be a good time to get work done (Look at all the work I'm getting done!). Ugh, the coffee I drank an hour ago just started kicking in, so that every part of me feels awake except for my eyes, which kind of sucks as a feeling. I'm sure that if I started doing real work, I'd feel more awake and productive, so maybe I should do that.

Orr I should plug in the christmas lights, check my email and tune the guitar I don't have...

Genetically Related Minds Think Alike

So since my last entry was about my mom, how about a little bit about my dad?

What I love most about him is the fact that he and I have the same mind. I know you're supposed to be an equal mix of your parents, and though that's probably true, the way I think comes straight from him. I think that of my siblings, my sister is 50% my mom and 50% my dad; my brother is 75% my mom and 25% my dad, and I'm 75% my dad and 25% my mom. The good thing is that my parents get along really well, so any mixture works.

I remember that for our 5th grade graduation, we were asked to write down what we wanted to be when we grew up, and the cutest answers were read aloud at graduation to entertain our parents. I made the cut with my answer of, "When I grow up I want to be a patent attorney because my dad says I ask too many questions." Of course, the only reason I wrote "patent attorney" instead of "lawyer" was because I knew my dad was a patent attorney and I wanted to sound like I knew what I was talking about. My sister and I get that from him - we're pretty good at making stuff up and sounding believable (I've gotten better at it since 5th grade).

Haha OK I know that sheds a pretty awful light on my dad, but it actually is an awesome trait to have (he doesn't abuse it, I promise, and works hard to make sure my sister and I don't, either). But he's always told me that if being a doctor doesn't work out, and being an artist doesn't work out either, I could do law in my sleep. I know lawyers pretty much have an awful reputation overall, and are criticized for being liars, but my dad's been through too much to be a liar at heart. He's seen life at its best and its worst, and has brought himself up from nothing to be able to provide a great life for his family.

I hope I never have to go through the trouble he's gone through, but I know that I would have the strength to get through it because he has. Well, actually, neither of my parents have had it easy, to give my mom her due - both their fathers died uexpectedly when they were juniors in high school. I don't want to dwell on it though - they don't, so respectfully I won't either.

Point is, I can tell my dad thinks I'm something special. I don't know if every daughter thinks that, but he's always been fascinated to hear what goes on in my head. He says my sister is more technical, and though I know he likes to talk mechanics and design with her, he talks life, art and politics with me. He loves the way I listen so hard when he talks about the doctors he's working with, the surgeries he's observed and the new inventions that will give more hope to the future of healthcare. He's the one who reminds me that I can do what I want to do with my life, regardless of who's backing me and who's pushing me back. Likewise, he listens when I talk - he's probably the reason I speak and write the way I do, since I feel the need bring myself to his level to communicate my ideas clearly. I don't fight with my mom often, but I pretty much never fight with my dad. He doesn't write me off as his moody teenage daughter, and for that I am eternally grateful. He makes me think I'm worth listening to.

Yes, he can be so headstrong and stubborn somtimes. He can totally miss the point when my mom's talking and not realize he did, which is frustrating for all of us. He can get way too excited about work, but then I'm glad he loves what he does (he's not really a patent attorney by trade anymore. I could tell you what he does, but I'd have to kill you... just kidding. I have no idea what he does exactly - he basically puts together medical companies and is the world master of networking). But his flaws are my flaws. I get the least annoyed when he does that thing he does, because I know what's going through his head. He answers the cell phone because it brings him one step closer to sealing the deal, finishing the project, and putting his kids through college. Yet he didn't miss our soccer games as kids; he cut the lawn almost every saturday of every summer (his free therapy); he spent endless hours cleaning out the gutters to make sure the house he's worked so hard for stays dry; he's driven miles and miles for whatever we need of him, and he's kept my mom driving through life, too.

He probably scares the shit out of people who cross him in business, but it works for him :-). Hopefully I will never have to use that trait, but don't think I can't...

P.S.

It's snowing, really snowing, not the cheap stuff that melts in an hour. I'll wake up to snow tomorrow (today) morning...

Missing The Homeland I've Never Met

My stomach hurts and I don't know why. Don't you just hate it when that happens? I decided to take care of myself and get a ginger ale... and fig newtons. They're fruit, they've gotta be good for me, right? I'm still not sure if that was a great decision, since the stomach still hurts (10 fig newtons later). Sleep would probably help, but I've been doing too much of that lately. I've currently settled for water sugared up on instant tea mix... why is it that I think the cure for a stomachache is to eat something? That's probably not always the best option, come to think of it.

Oh well, thinking about eating... dinner tomorrow night is pierogies, which is my ABSOLUTE favorite dinner here. Of all the things to love, it's a pretty weird choice - most people get excited about chicken parm, taco night or steak and cheese subs. Nope, I'll take potato and cheese pierogies with carmelized onions any day. They remind me of home because they're 110% Polish, like my mom's whole side of the family. For some reason they aren't served with sour cream here, which doesn't make any sense since my mom's always called sour cream "Polish Ketchup" because it goes on everything. They're also super greasy here because they're basically cooked in butter and then rolled in some more. Altogether pretty poor nutritionally, but no one loves them more than me, hands down. Even better - though no sour cream, they ARE served with kielbasa and sauerkraut (neither of which I usually eat, but they just top off the Polish fiesta going down in the dining hall). Having written that, I wish I knew the Polish word for "party" so that I didn't have to resort to Spanglish.

Why don't I know more Polish, actually? My mom's never made it a priority - she claims to be awful at languages and pretends to not remember a thing, despite whipping certain Polish phrases out at unexpected times and then blaming it on the fact that her mother "said that all the time," and I've never heard my grandmother say that before? I kind of get the impression that she was all Polished out in her childhood, coming from such a patriotically Polish family. You'd think that she'd embrace it more than she does, right? It's not that there's any spite between her and her heritage - she just seems to prefer to keep it quiet. It's one of those things that I think she's really proud of, but chooses not to flaunt it because she doesn't see how it's all that relevant to everyday life. I wonder what she thinks about the fact that her children therefore identify more with their Irish background than their Polish one, even though all three of us are twice as Polish genetically than we are Irish.

There are certain things she's held onto, though - Opuatec, or however you spell it, is always at the Christmas table. It's basically the same unleavened bread used to make the hosts at church, except this consists of two pieces of bread, cut out similarly to the paper snowflakes hanging on my windows at this very moment. These two rectangles of cardboardy bread are joined by a thick layer of honey, so that they basically make a honey sandwich (!). The tradition is that before enjoying Christmas dinner, each guest at the table breaks off a piece of the Opuatec, so that figuratively everyone is sharing the same meal. I think there's a blessing beforehand - I wish this tradition happened more than once a year so that I could remember it better than this.

I guess Christmas is the one time of the year where we really do Polish stuff - pierogies are inevitable on Christmas day, as breakfast or lunch (or whatever you call it when you eat all day, take a two hour break and then eat dinner). The pierogies have to be fresh, a requirement which can be met with the most diligent efforts to find somewhere in New England that makes them. The secret source for the freshest pierogies happens to be a church somewhere in Bridgeport, where little old Polish ladies get together a few days preceding Christmas to crank out several thousand slices of Polish potato and cheese heaven...

I CANNOT forget to put my Polish heritage on my Christmas list...