Love me when it makes no sense at all.

I picked up Sense and Sensibility today. I read the first two chapters. This is probably the third or fourth time I’ve attempted to get through Jane Austen’s brilliant novel, but perhaps this time I’ll actually finish. To be totally honest, Pride and Prejudice is the only Jane Austen book I’ve completed. I have Emma and Persuasion sitting on the shelf here in my dorm room, untouched. I know I had started Emma at some point, but got distracted.

Perhaps I should analyze Austen’s effective writing strategies in Sense and Sensibility. Keep my mind sharp. Or something like that.

I haven’t done any fun reading lately. Lately meaning since this semester started. Maybe this is why I feel my IQ (and my writing ability) slowly deplete with each passing day.

I also haven’t been completely healthy in much too long. A few weeks ago, I managed to somehow give myself a corneal abrasion, which caused extreme pain in my eye for a week. This past Thursday, I came down with a horrid headache. Friday, I had a sore throat that developed into flu-like symptoms by Saturday. Fever, chills, coughing, aching, loss of appetite…you name it, I probably had it. Although I’ve been getting better since then, my cough certainly hasn’t been cured.

But enough of that. I’m going back home this weekend, and I’m bringing my boyfriend with me. I hope he won’t be traumatized by anything that happens… My parents can be a little strange at times.

I wish I had something interesting to talk about. I feel like all inspiration has left me. My creativity has been devoured by the insane amount of required reading I’ve had to do. I just don’t know… I love my honors class, even though my professor probably thinks I’m mute. It’s discussion-based, and I’m not one for talking. But the exchange of ideas is wonderful. If we had an online discussion board, I’d probably participate more. I like to have time to formulate responses; I’m a slow thinker.

I’m starting to realize (okay, I’ve already realized this…) that I compare myself to other people way too much. I don’t necessarily have to be the “best,” but I like to be unique. I want to point out a quality I have that somebody else doesn’t. Or at least find something about myself that’s…better. It’s not like I pass people on the street and compare myself to them. The people I’m talking about are people that I guess…I guess I consider them competition. Even if I shouldn’t. And there are some people that I feel like no matter how hard I try, I can never measure up to them. How can I meet a perfect standard? I can’t. I’ll fail every time.

I realize that having good self-esteem is essential for good mental health. But I just can’t help but make these comparisons. It’s not constant, but certain people and certain activities make the comparisons inevitable. I want to be confident in myself and in my abilities. And yeah, I’m talking about something specific, but it’s so juvenile and absurd that I’d rather not go into details.

You make me smile, please stay for a while now…

I’m a cynic. I can’t believe anything I hear. I want to believe it, so desperately. But really…there’s nothing to be done about it. To prove me wrong, he’d have to marry me.

College Life

I’m not experiencing it. Well, I suppose I technically am, but seriously. College is supposed to be about parties, alcohol, sex, and no consequences. Do what you want, since nobody cares. Have fun. You only live once. I don’t drink, so the party scene isn’t really my thing. I take life too seriously to just throw away what I’ve got. Don’t get me wrong; I love college. The freedom is incredible. Some of the professors actually want you to learn. There’s knowledge here. William T. Young Library is both beautiful and filled with resources. I love the vast array of people. So many cultures collide and mingle on campus. But the cliche view of college life just isn’t for me.

Halloween is coming up. I may go costume shopping tomorrow with my boyfriend. However, this all depends on if I finish reading the Aeneid and take notes for my communications class. Oh, and do the self-critique for my last speech. I’m definitely not short on homework. Next semester will probably be worse, since I’ll be taking seventeen hours. I’m at sixteen right now, but concert band has already ended. I’m tempted to post some of my papers, but they’re incredibly long. I want to do more creative writing, or at least writing that is important to me. However, I fail at coming up with topics.

Changes.

I’ve realized that everything I post is a bunch of fluff. I talk about myself too much. I’m really not that interesting, and I start to annoy myself after a while. Maybe I’ll start writing something that’s not completely pointless. My stories are failtacular, so I don’t consider those to be quality writing. I’m thinking I want some changes in this blog. At this moment, trying to write anything coherent would be hopeless. I still haven’t finished my homework. Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow with some new biological theory to discuss or new insight into the minds of the Founding Fathers. I doubt it, though. Good night for now.

Listen.

Sing me a sweet lullaby
tell me all the things I wanna hear.
Come close, whisper in my ear.
Love me, is that so much to ask?
Four letter words hold the most meaning.

Maybe it’s all in my head,
you don’t really care
I’m hearing only what I wanna hear
Come on girl, use your head
they say only what you wanna hear…

Love Drunk

I’m sitting in the room listening to Boys Like Girls. My wonderful roommate gave me the new cd for my birthday. =]

I’m 18.

Finally “old enough” to be in college. =]

It’s been a weird day. Not really sure what my purpose was in starting this post. Maybe I just got so sick of writing my speech that I needed an outlet. Speeches aren’t fun to write. You don’t get to experiment with words. Your sentence structure has to be relatively simple so you don’t lose the listener. I would never want to be a speaker, or even a speech writer. I have to take this “basic public speaking class.” The requirement is the only thing that keeps me in there. When I get up in front of people, my hands shake. I feel the blood rush to my face as I turn an almost inhuman shade of red. My voice trembles, and I speak way too fast. I doubt this class will cure any of that, but maybe I can get my freakouts under control.

I actually should be taking notes. I have a class at 3:30. I want to go to Synergy tonight, but I have so much homework…that’s probably not going to happen. I could probably blow it off a little more, though. Isn’t that what college is all about? Okay, so that’s partially a joke. I procrastinate, but I always do my work. I should definitely be doing it now.

Apparently, people actually like hearing about my boy drama. I could personally do without. I would give more insight, but I don’t have a clue what’s going on with my life right now. I spent seven hours with a guy yesterday, but now I kinda feel like an afterthought. Maybe my dismal mood respecting him is completely uncalled for. But I think I’ll find out tomorrow. Then I’ll let you know.

I don’t know why you say goodbye; I say hello.

Everything is new.

Well, that’s a lie. My best friend is right behind me, the same best friend from the past [I don't even know how many] years. And my other best friend is just a short walk away. My flute is still as shiny and pretty as ever. My clothes are all the same, plus a few free t-shirts I’ve accumulated over the past week.

But this isn’t home.

It’s college.

It’s strange to look out the window and see all the lives passing by. People on the streets, people in the dorms across from our building…they’re all here, experiencing what I’m experiencing. Walking to classes that are a mile away, eating at an all-you-care-to-eat buffet right on the first floor of my dorm – it’s all part of the experience. The roommate, the bunked beds, the community showers, the voices filling the halls at all hours of the night – it’s certainly different than home.

My classes seem alright enough. I have my honors course in the ancient world. That class will probably be a beast, but the professor is entertaining, and I know I’ll learn a TON. Then there’s “basic ideas of biology.” That class will be a joke. All multiple choice. A smattering of papers to write. Definitely not a challenge, just perhaps an annoyance with the whole evolution thing. I have a religion and politics class titled “One Nation Under God.” I thought it sounded interesting, but the first class may be foreboding a boring, strenuous time. Basic Public Speaking might kill me. End of story. I haven’t had my educational psychology class yet, or band, but I’m actually excited about those. I guess the professor could make or break those classes.

Well. I’m going to study now, since that seems to be an integral part of college life. I’ll try to keep in touch with all my nonexistent readers. =]

Tired

Why must we invite pain into our hearts?
Do we go looking for it?
We give and give more of ourselves…
but it never comes back.
All we want is somebody to love,
and as long as they stay,
we don’t care how much they take.
But I’m tired of all this.
Tired of seeing the pain,
tired of seeing the depression,
the loss.
Just tired.

Wandering thoughts of a tired mind.

Sometimes I wonder how many hearts are just like mine. How many minds are questioning? How many people are searching? So many answers lie just out of reach. Right now, I feel like I’ve swum out too deep. I’m barely treading water. This loneliness is causing my very soul to ache! It’s nothing new. I’ve been this way before. I guess I’m now starting to wonder if I’m worth being serious about. I wonder if I’m anything more than a girl to have fun with for a while, and then leave whenever the time is up. I know I’m too young to doubt my prospects in life, but knowing that doesn’t kill this longing inside of me to be held and cuddled and just…loved. I’ve made so many mistakes. My past is full of problems, some still unresolved. My present feels like the aftermath of a battlefield. Just tired. Tired, and alone. Logically, I know that I have high chances of finding someone that I may actually be able to spend the rest of my life with. But that doesn’t help me right now, as I sit wondering about the future, hearing nothing but the sound of my typing and the bugs outside.

Hello, my name is: awkward. Nice to meet you.

Immobilized.
Why can’t I speak?
Struck dumb by penetrating fear
that permeates the very air…
can’t breathe.

A struggle to stutter.
Why must I be trapped?
Held prisoner by my own fear
that casts iron bars…
must escape.

Loosen up.
Why can’t I relax?
Craving to let go of fear
and be myself…
just be.

Inspired by Awkwardness

Awkwardness can be a tool. Fill a room with socially challenged people, and you’ll create a psychologist’s dream world. Or maybe their worst nightmare. In any case, throw a “luau” for a bunch of college kids in the honors program and you’ve got an explosion of uneasiness. Individual quirks begin to shine through after a while. There are the kids who sit on the far side of the couch. There is the guy who rests his elbow on the table, tapping his fingers idly on his cheek. And there are the groups of girls who sit in circles, staring at each other and asking vague questions. They aren’t really interested in the answers. They’re just trying to breathe in the thick air of…well, awkwardness. And then there are the question balls. Ice-breaking games. A bunch of bull. If you want to socialize, you will. You don’t bond through questions on over-sized beach balls. You bond through experiences and laughter. You bond through mutual attraction. You bond with the people you naturally gravitate toward.

Well. I feel like writing again, which wasn’t exactly the goal of this experience. I did, however, meet quite a few interesting people, most of which I’d like to see again. So maybe the ice-breaking games and color-coordinated groups did accomplish something. They gave us something we all agreed on.