the end
The term ironic was invented for times like this.
Its time to finish this journal. A year has come and gone, and with the moving along from space to space, I'll move on from this. And it has become all too necessary.
I conclude this year in ways I never expected. Feelings of resentment and anger linger in unsaid words. Feelings of apprehension and fear dwell in the suitcases and moving boxes. Feelings of sadness and dissapointment stare at me through the evidence of happy memories with a severed bond. Feelings of pride and accomplishment sit in the meaningless letter on the last pages of typefaced expression. And most of all, feelings of closure sear the nerves of my tired self. I end this chapter with relief and readiness.
If you are still reading, know that I am sorry. Know that forgiveness is hard for both of us, and we may remain angry and hurt beyond the borders of this place and the limits of this time. Mistakes made are lessons learned, i guess. Take care of yourselves. I always did care. I still do. I will.
"From the far side of the ocean
If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me
And I'm pushin' on the door
Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
In another time
In another place
In another time
In another place"
finding my way back
Three cups of coffee and very little sleep, combined with stress and allergies puts me in quite a strange mood. I've been reading and writing all morning, since turning in an abysmal paper. The reading was the novel Atonement, as well as my past monologues about love and life and change and all that. The writing was an attempt to articulate the last almost two years. Two years is such a long time, and the first recognizable phase of personal change in my life. I have truly emerged as a different person. Life has really happened.
The soundtrack of my life amounts to the hard music that kicks and hits, and the soft quiet that mimics days spent on my bedroom floor.
ten days left. A little less. This will all be a memory. A memory of sickness and naseous grief. I have had a hard year. I've been miserable and disgusted and tired and desperate and sad. I've had the relief of human contact come at me like a wave of inconsequence. I knew the meaninglessness of all the people and things I did here. I knew this year was only serving the purpose of ending. I've read some books, written some papers. I've made some friends, expressed some sentiments i never really meant. Because at the end of all this, I know the past nine months will fade into indifference, just like I planned and expected. I am detaching from something only my bloated physique has linked itself to.
In the overindulgence of my ambition and stomach I have fallen into a twin status where I am all too aware of my desire to escape, and my absorption in the everyday. I've always been ready to leave, and never known a desire to stay. But staying has made me really know what its like to be an actress. I have played the role of the longing pessimist, the sad but funny girl, the smart one, the angry and raging liberal. And everyone thought I cared about being here. But the secret will soon be revealed…i just dont give a shit. I know who I am better than I ever have, and none of you have a clue.
For the first time in my life, the space I have occupied is meaningless. I hate my room, I hate the two people I spend the most time with, I hate the building I live in, I hate the space on this campus. Even in the natural escape of the arboretum I feel sieged with disgust and fakeness. By the water and the railroad tracks, whenever I feel the scent of escape, I twitch with ironic satisfaction, but I hate that feeling too.
I guess I've avoided anger all year because its useless, and I was usually overwhelmed with sadness or yearning anyway. Now that I don't have either of those anymore, I'm just angry at the wasted time i've devoted here. I don't regret this year for what I have learned about myself and life, but I'm really pissed off about how much everything just completely revolts me about this place.
okay, now that thats finished, im going to have a meal.
vassar
It's been a while. I guess i don't give myself too much time for introspection these days. I don't get too much time for anything really, when i'm here. I've become a work machine. I'm proud of it, but I miss my old laid back style…
Anyway, thats not the point of this entry. I just returned from two days at Vassar. I'm so confused. I thought i hated the whole small isolated college thing, and that if i were ever to consider it again, it would have to be a place like haverford where i could escape into the bustle of a big city. But I spent 48 completely content hours on that campus. And it wasn't like I felt like the school was that different, or poughkeepsie was more tolerable (ha!) or even that being with Matt and Josh made it so much better (even though it did of course), it was more that there was an energy.
The realities I have discovered since coming to college:
1. college is college is college. everywhere you get immaturity, rich kids, sheltered kids, and drinking.
2. these four years are NOT the most important and crucial ever, and it is not the best time in people's lives ever. Its overated.
3. this is not a time to settle and make-do. Of course adaptability is good, but giving in to mediocrity is not worth 50 grand.
Ok, so those are my lessons. And with them, I return to Vassar. I felt this vibe…it was different. Everyone still drank. Its still in the middle of nowhere. Its still a bunch of rich kids who call themselves liberal and aware, and love that they can. BUT. Its also a community of people who want to be part of something that is attentive to secession from the mainstream. There are still tons of hipsters who still wear sunglasses that are too big. But there aren't too many future buisness majors at Vassar. And people love eachother at Vassar. They love eachother because they can spend a saturday night getting dressed and drunk together, sure. But they love eachother on saturday mornings when they drag themselves to their hallmates rugby game. And they love eachother in class, and at lunch, and everyone feels like they're actually adults, and not adolscents discovering the world of debauchery and laziness.
All in all, i'm pretty mad i didn't apply there senior year. And just about as mad that i didn't apply there to transfer. I just have become so confused. I thought I knew what I wanted, what would make me happy, where would make things feel normal, where I'd be able to just do my life and not have to evaluate it all the time.
But then i sat by the man-made lake at 1am last night, drinking wine and just talking about everything, and the same thought just kept crossing my mind: I could live like this.
And so, more questions go unanswered, and these decisions that I continue to make continue to prove more and more unpredictable. There's no use lamenting, i suppose– whats done is done. Still, I can't help thinking that I'm really so unsure about everything in life still. This growing up stuff is rough.
movies are like drugs
Home is good, except lonely. I dont know whats the matter with me. It might be pms, or maybe its slight depression, but in moments of being alone i tend to get very sad. overwhelmed with the state of affairs of the world and my life. I’m confused about the future, sad about my family and friends and all the suffering, distressed and scared and worried about the way the world is headed. And i’m taking it all on and can’t seem to deflect it like i used to.
So i’ve been watching movies. I get absorbed, and feel good for a few hours. I even feel happy and content for a while after the movie. I just watched A Lot Like Love. In no way spectacular, but it made me like Ashton Kutcher better, and its warming. Plus, i could identify with Amanda Peet’s character– kind of a music junkie with a patten for phases and artsy hobbies and chaotic lifestyles.
Whatever, so its soothing to get wrapped up in the movies. Point is, i cant explain this bout of desperation and dire perspective on life. Am I just lonely? Is it physical/psychological? Or am i trying to tell myself something….that its time to get moving to make things happen.
I keep interpreting these feelings as a sign im sending myself that its time to put my life in motion. Eighteen years and i’ve got hardly anything to show for them. Some bruises and scars, some good and bad memories, a high school diploma, some friends and family that have brought me this far…and i’m standing at the threshold.
or something. because when i think about it, thats a nice way of explaining all of this, of getting my life to mean something, of getting my heart to slow down and my mind to catch up…but it doesnt quite work, in the end. I can’t explain it, but these feelings just can’t seem to add up to motivation and optimism.
I’ve written something along these lines several times in the last few days. Every time i get done i come to realize its not that bad, i’m being kind of dramatic, and i have to get a grip. I hope i can get a grip really soon, but i’m posting this anyway because i feel like if i don’t get it out and leave it out, it’ll stay with me forever…
blurry
At the risk of being a super-huge complainer, i’ve had one of the worst days i’ve ever had ever.
It started off okay– tired, but thought i’d be fine. Had philosophy class, went to my ES midterm which went really well, had lunch. Then I felt pretty tired so i decided to take a nap. After I woke up two hours later, I was so groggy and tired, i decided to take a shower. Didn’t help. Decided to take a walk. Didn’t help. I just couldnt wake up, and i felt like all my nerves had been shot– somewhat like being so tired but not being able to fall asleep. It got to the point where as I was walking in the arboretum, i considered just lying down in the mud/snow and seeing if i could fall asleep there. I think thats the closest i’ve ever been to being a zombie.
I broke down and was crying and shaking and felt sick and disgusting. My parents calmed me down a bit, and then scott helped too. Then I had a nalgene of water, which helped ALOT. In fact, i think i was severely dehydrated…which is strange because im never dehydrated…but yeah, then i went to dinner, and ate a ton of food and am feeling a bit better now. Hydrated, full, and miraculously more energetic.
Going home has never been so appealing. I need to calm down and chill out and get away.
almost insane
ahh, last night was horrible.
I went to bed at 11, thinking it would be great to go to sleep early-ish so i could get up early-ish and do work before my 10:25 class. So i happily fall asleep while my roomate (alex) isnt here, and wake up randomly at 12:02. I’m not sure why, but i get up to go to the bathroom, and on my way I see her coming back from the library. So i figure she’ll get in bed and go to bed fairly soon. No worries.
Instead, she decides to turn on the light, do stuff on her computer, then get in bed and turn on that light and read for EVER. I was in a half state of conciousness where everything I was thinking went into my dreams so i couldnt quite sleep and i certainly wasnt awake. It was a horrible feeling. I felt so tired that my stomach hurt and my nerves felt so sensitive. It was like i was on some kind of narcotic.
I decided to get up and call scott, hopefully hinting to her that i really needed to go to sleep. We talked until 12:50ish, and then i came back and she had gone to bed. YES! ….sort of. I got in bed, and lay there, but every time i started falling asleep, my mind was so tense and forcefully telling me “you have to fall asleep, but you won’t be able to” that i couldnnt relax. I was almost in pain at how tired i was, and how strange the feeling of being mostly asleep but just slightly awake felt. I wanted to scream and cry…but instead, somehow managed to fall asleep.
I’m up no, its 7:49, i’m tired…but two more days until i go home and no more early mornings, annoying roomates, or complicated sleeping situations will inhibit a full week of dynamite relaxation. ahhh, until thursday afternoon!
more inside me
I’m listening to Ari Hest, and yearning for the late nights of last summer when i could sit around with my computer, my music, spider solitaire, and a good book and stare into the countless hours of the coming night.
I’m starting to really realize the meaning of this whole college thing. For me, its something really different than most people; for me this is about change. I don’t want to rebuild a life that looks like high school at all. I’m ready for adventure and challenge and shifty episodes that i can record as events in my life– My interesting, progressing, dynamic life. I’m done being a conn college student, and i’m extremly done being a freshman. I don’t think natalia could’ve given me better advice– this year is NOT something i ever want to repeat, regardless of the circumstances.
I’m ready, most of all, to go be myself. And know what that is. And be comfortable in it, and still demand better and greater things from myself all the time.
I’m really proud of what i’ve become since august of last year. I’ve rejuvinated my sense of adventure and thirst for challenge (personal challenge, that is). I’ve become a much more dedicated student, learned how to do college work really well, and made it through some really difficult and demanding days, weeks, and even months as a college student. I’ve grown to appreciate writing, reading, and exploring on my own much more. I’ve developed a spine, and there’s no way anyone can crush that now. (at least i hope not.)
vacation
I’d really like to take a break. I’m not really at my worst point right now, i’ve had rougher moments the last few days/weeks, but i’m sooooo tired of the non-stop intensity of school/work/classes/collegeapps/life in general right now. It feels like a less pressure-filled version of the two weeks before/during finals last semester. yikes.
Im writing this paper on the Great Gatsby, and its driving me crazy. It should be really easy since i’ve read the book, written plenty of papers, and generally don’t particularly feel challenged by the ideas in the book. Plus i love it! But…somehow i’m not communicating myself well, and its basically a pretty crap paper. I’ve already written so many papers this semester:
- philosophy paper on “might makes right”
- english paper on the american dream
- political ideas paper on antigone and socrates
- political ideas paper on sparta
- and now this!
In addition, i have weekly journals for philosophy and english, bi-weekly journals for Environmental Studies, and so much reading for all four classes i can’t even begin to describe.
I’d say this would be a bit more managable if i didnt keep running into other things to divert my time. I’m still trying to pay attention to my friends who are dealing with emotional crises of all sorts. I’m doing five college applications. I’m playing soccer and trying not to be a whale. I’m trying to organize spring break and summer with several organizations, people, and conflicting thoughts. I’m spending most weekends occupied elsewhere, or with someone here.
All i want to do is explore my (broken) rhapsody for new music, listen to it, talk on the phone, knit my scarf, burn my incense, and relax. Boo.
Oh well the rest of this week:
tonight: reading, finishing paper
tomorrow: two classes, soccer, reading, journal for ES, transfer app. essay
friday: philosophy, boston
weekend: boston, brown app, work, back sunday night…
GO!
and just because i need to
i want to list the things i’m good at and my particular interests. the creative, interesting talents and things i have that make me as much as i can ever be in list form.
- soccer
- knitting
- reading
- writing what i like to think of as lyrics for someday in the future
- music (listening to some great stuff, that is)
- giving advice/being sympathetic…knowing what to say?
- appearing confident
- being silly. im really good at that.
- dancing
- my hands are pretty
- i’m very open and unreserved
- cool jewelery
- being a vegetarian
- being a little strange…doing things like running in the rain
- there are more. this list has gone stale.
I’ve just noticed that all the “things” and “hobbies” i’ve listed are all things that I’ve acquired to contribute to my identity. I like knowing how to knit, because a certain type of person knows how to knit. And there’s this huge conflict. Because i AM that type of person. I value intellectual discussions and creative production and using your own hands for skill and purpose and all the other things i associate with a knitter. And at the same time, I learned to knit because I wanted that to be justified. I want to do the things, and own the items, and have the skills that justify who I am, and who I want to be. Because these are the things that construct an identity for the rest of the world. They can see I like to knit, and I like to knit, and I like that they can see that I like to knit.
I sometimes feel shallow in valuing my incense because many people don’t have incense and its a cool thing to have. And sometimes, i’m just pretty fucking glad that I have incense because I like incense. And most of the time, the two blend….i like it for what it is to me, i like it for what it is for other people, because I’m constantly seeking my own approval, and the approval of others.
In philosophy we’re reading about the stages of moral development. I’ve just realized that i’m still in the stage where determining what is “good” is purely based on rewards and punishments and their emotional relationship to the self. Its stage three, i think.
wow. when will this ever make sense?
and these are the confessions of our lives
I guess there will always be that girl.
For as long as you work, and as hard as you try, very few people are ever really able to say they love themselves. And i dont mean they haven’t reached a point where they have love and respect and admiration for themselves, but i’m talking about being unfalteringly proud of yourself. Where you find yourself in that delicate balance between being confident and conceeded, because you know you’re that good. I’m not there. I probably never will be.
I think I’d say for a good part of the time i’m enough. I’m smart enough, i’m interesting enough, i’m pretty enough, i’m strong enough. There are sometimes though, when all that comes crashing down.
I am in this political ideas class. Its a really interesting course, with some great reading, and the professor is really great. He’s from Alexandria, is named Prof. Coats, and he’s really handsome and dresses well. Not in that young and hip early 30′s way, but in that attractive late 50′s way. He wears corduroy jackets, if that helps. I took an instant liking to him, and had this fantasy of him really liking me. Anyway, there is this girl in my class. She’s really skinny and tall and pretty and her name is Ivy Chippendale. On the first day of class he commented on her name saying something like “thats quite the poet’s romantic name.” ugh.
So there’s this girl. And I want to hate her. I want to hate her for being fake, and too pretty and skinny and not that intelligent and a hipster who spends far too much money on clothes. But instead, I have this twisted admiration for her. She makes her own clothes, doesnt wear makeup, doesnt throw herself at or really even flirt with boys, she actually seems pretty smart, and she’s deathly nice. She’s everything i wish i could be. She spent last summer travelling in hostels in europe with her best friends. I wanted to do that, and still do, and she has these photos up from it that make it just so infuriatingly unfair. To me, she’s perfect.
I obviously don’t mean this in a romantic way, I just feel so jealous and competitive. Where are my european photos? Where are my perfectly white and straight teeth? Where’s MY MAKE TRADE FAIR tshirt?
So, has it come down to that then? I can’t deny that what really matters are all these superficial things that help someone who’s lost searching for her identity know where its ideal lies, and where its deficienes pinch and puncture at her deepest insecurities. I’m not quite who I want to be, and chances are never will be.
And to tear it all down when I think i’m getting close, will be that girl. Ivy, or whoever. There will always be that girl.
