gotta make it over the hill

I think that relationships with others tend to follow a path or course. Well mine do at least. First it starts with not really caring at all about you. I don’t really anticipate our relationship ending up anywhere – I half expect you to forget me the next time we meet. So I’m like, whatever. But then, a friendship emerges. Jokes develop. A more casual and comfortable conversation emerges where I don’t have to think too hard about what the next topic will be because it develops naturally. Then I realize I really like who you are. I enjoying spending time with you. I’m having so much fun, we have all these jokes, and I feel like we’re just clicking. There’s this period where it feels awesome because I just made this great new friend. Unfortunately it’s after this phase that insecurity usually sets it. I realize just how much I like this person and how much it would really suck if I lost that friendship. Then I start to fear I’m being needy, or if I’m saying something inappropriate, or if I’m dominating the conversation. Am I talking about myself too much? Am I asking to hang out too much? Am I boring them? Once you get past that phase, it’s great. Once I make it past the insecure phase it means that we’ve reached this level where we’re comfortable with each other and I’m secure in the knowledge that I won’t be losing it anytime soon. That’s the best part, for me at least.

This year, mainly this semester I feel like, my friend Theory and I have become closer and closer friends. I realize that I can discuss things with her I’d never consider telling others and she’ll actually listen. I’ve told her some personal stuff. But we also joke around all the time and we’re these angry Asian feminists together. I love it. But I’m at that insecure phase, which sucks. Once you realize how much a person means to you, you realize how it could hurt if it ended or you realize that it’s not mutual. There are no DTR conversations for best friends! I mostly worry that I’m not listening to her as well as she listens to me. But I’m so grateful that she’s been there for me these past few months. It wasn’t always this smooth – things were going a little rough those first few months of the semester back from summer. I was pretty low during those times. But I know now that I can talk to Theory, more so than anyone else. If you don’t count my ex-boyfriend, I haven’t had a best friend since 6th grade. So I think I’m just trying to find my bearings. I’m so closed up; not many people even make it to the second part, much less the last one. Not a quality I’m proud of, but damnit, you sure as hell mean something to me when you get there and you’ll have my steadfast loyalty.

a net

So I think I’ve finally made a decision.

Dad visited and stayed for a few hours. We ate, talked, discussed life. He is currently on a sort of self-help kick right now. Usually when you hear the phrase “self-help” you just kind of roll your eyes, and at first I sort of did too. But if you knew my dad and then saw some of the changes in him, you’d roll your eyes right back into place. It’s nice to hear him being more positive now. Many of the things he’s struggling with, I am too and it’s nice to know that we can relate on that level. He’s very open about it and I think really eager to have an audience and I’m probably one of the more receptive ears.

He doesn’t think I should quit after a bad day, and on some level I do agree. I do admit that on some level I am giving in to fear. I still think of driving that bus and my chest clenches. My dad is worried that if I let myself quit now, it’ll be easier next time to quit. He also says that I’m stuck in this negative mindset of “I can’t,” and that is very very true. I’m still in it.

Despite it all, I think I am going to go into that building tomorrow and inform them that I don’t think bus driving is the job for me. Basically, I’m quitting. Honestly, walking in there and telling them that takes a hell of a lot of courage from me. Usually in these type of situations I just quit showing up or avoid them and try to never see them again or I try to tell them in any form of communication besides face to face. Face to face involves questions like, “Why? What’s wrong? What if we did this…?” It requires standing firm in your decision and expressing myself well, something I am not good at. Knowing that in the morning I will have to walk up to that building and talk to the sups face to face scares me as well.

So i don’t know if this is cheating, but can’t I just say that this is one form of challenging myself? I may be quitting bus driving, but I am forcing myself to express myself and not resort to faceless communication. Can that count?

Honestly, I’m going to feel like a crummy failure no matter what. Dad keeps trying to help me think more positively, but that is damn hard to do. But I have one positive thing about this experience and that would be my conversations with my mom and dad. Knowing that they are there for me in a way I never knew.

I know though that I will be beating myself up all night and tomorrow and for the rest of the year. But I’ll try to then remind myself of the positive of the situation and help start to rethink things.

augment

I am currently training to be a bus driver for my university.

Today was a really shitty day and a large part of me is considering quitting.

Right now, just the thought of getting back on a bus and driving down streets fills me with terror and I feel like water is rushing up around me. All the fear goes straight to my chest.

Nothing traumatic happened, but I just had such a hard time today trying to turn, back and just drive in general. Me and the trainer got a bit snarky at different points, which didn’t help things.

Dad says I shouldn’t quit. Mom says that it’s my decision and that it won’t change who I am. She says I won’t be a failure if I decided that this is not the route (get it?) for me. Dad says that if I quit this time, it’ll make quitting easier next time and that I can’t let failure keep me back.

I could go into a discussion of how interesting it is on the sides they’ve taken, but I won’t. I can see both sides and it’s these sides that are pulling me back and forth. Maybe this really isn’t for me. How do you know? How do you know when being a pussy versus being honest?

I have seriously been crying for hours. Ever since I got home from training. I know my faults. I get hung up on my mistakes and can’t look past them. It ruins my whole day. I also tend to blow these things out of proportion. I try to keep telling myself that everyone makes mistakes and has problems during training, but that sort of comfort only gets you so far. Right now my morale is down so low.

I will say this, whether I eventually decide to quit or see it through, I will have learned one thing from this ordeal. There are days when I feel like no one has my back. No one will support me, least of all my parents. I know they love me, but it’s always been hard to relate to them when I’m having a problem. But what I did was call my dad and he was really supportive. He’s actually coming to visit me. And mom was actually much nicer and supportive than I ever expected.

Brownie

At my school there are the regular dorms and also Residential Colleges. For one RC you have to send an application and a board of students decide who gets to live there. It’s not an academic application. No one cares about majors, extracurricular activities or GPAs. Instead there are questions like: If you could recast the cast of Star Wars, who would you pick and why? What do the fruits of your ambition taste like? Short people get rained on last. You are now two inches tall; what do you do with your extra dry time?

A lot of “weird” people live in the RC; the “artsy” people. Theory applied and got in. She encouraged me to apply, and I even printed out an application, ready to do it. But when you’re pressed for time, with all these assignments, filling out silly essay questions doesn’t seem like the best use of time. So I never applied.

I don’t really regret it. I’m not going to live the rest of my life wishing I had applied. But I wish I hadn’t let fear get in the way. Just overall fear of rejection. I’m not artsy at all. I can’t take an old fork, mismatched buttons and two pieces of duct tape and make something cool. I told myself that there was no way I would get in, so why bother applying? So I didn’t.

Kleenex

So, my no soda goal…it started out really well, I promise. I was doing a good job of not drinking it, that is until I went home for the weekend. I totally caved. So tomorrow I have to start from scratch.

On another note, I’m mostly okay about my ex-boyfriend and friend. I’m not okay with them together at all and don’t regret my behavior, but I’m not as emotionally disturbed as I thought I would be. I’ve mostly cut them out of my life. Their numbers aren’t even in my phone anymore. The severing of the relationship really helps. I stand by my actions completely however. I need to be cut off from them to protect myself. They can think what they like of me, but I can’t handle seeing them all lovey dovey. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my petty moments involving them. In my mind, I can be pretty vindictive and downright low concerning them.

Honestly, I think part of the reason I’m not an emotional wreck is that I learned a while ago how to bury my emotions.

Though I’m mostly okay, I’m still very mad over the situation and I honestly feel betrayed on some level. I expected my ex to get a girlfriend first, but I expected some unknown chick in Ohio, not a friend from high school that I still talk to. Not the same girl I spent years being jealous of, wondering if he would have preferred her to me. I effing wrote poetry of how inadequate and jealous I felt compared to her, and I don’t write poetry. I also expected better from my friend who I supported as she cried her way through numerous break ups with a long string of crappy boyfriends. Despite my jealousy, I didn’t push her out of my life or treat her as an enemy, but acknowledged that the jealousy was an inadequacy of my own and not her fault.

One of the hardest parts is knowing that I gave myself wholly to my ex. He was my sole confidant and I truly trusted him, even after we broke up. I gave him parts of my soul and now it’s out there…out of my control. How do you handle the fact that out there there is a person who has a part of you and you aren’t sure if they’re going to keep in intact.

He’s probably thrown it out by now.

I laid myself out bare for him. And now…

A part of me wishes they would try to call me or something. I feel like there are a few things left unsaid. Honestly, I just want to further articulate my anger, but they don’t seem to care, so it wouldn’t do any good. I refuse to be one of those crazy ex-girlfriends who call up in a fit of rage. I have too much self-respect and pride for that.

I do feel like I have legitimate grievances against him. The biggest ones are that he dumped me on New Year’s Day, three days after I visited him in Ohio he quit answering my calls and quit calling me, then a week after I had returned from Ohio he finally calls, only to dump me, and then this whole debacle. Someone please tell me why I put up for all this?

I’m not going to cry tonight. Too many tears have been shed over him. They aren’t worth the effort or the tissues.

Lost an oar

Do you ever read over old entries and just feel like a loser? Perhaps that’s just the chance you have to take with confessing your soul to the vast and empty internet.

Rarely do I ever re-read my entries. I’m not sure exactly why. Sometimes I get so embarrassed because when I’m writing I’m so emotional that all I am is in the NOW, so once I’m past it all and once again rational, I feel a little bit silly for being upset.

Perhaps I still can’t face myself and that’s why I can’t read my old entries.

As a result I am usually unable to look at myself very objectively. I can’t tell if I’ve changed and if so, how much and how so. If all this time I’ve been writing, trying to figure out my life and the inner workings of my soul, if nothing’s changed, or worse, things have haven’t progressed but rather regressed, then what’s the point? Why continue?

I remember how I used to write about how no matter the situation I would always remain the slightest hopeful, still thinking things will work out in the end. I thought that would be my curse – always being hopeful and then wind up ever disappointed.

I think my hope has diminished even more so now than in the past. A part of me gave up. Gave in.

Fish

This is going to sound horrible, but there are times where I feel practically worthless. Times where I feel like I shouldn’t be allowed to interact with people because I feel like I bring out the worth in others or only show them my worst side. Sometimes I genuinely feel like some of these people would be better off not having known me. When I get like this, I don’t understand why people can stand me. I feel like a poison to others.

quakes

Last night I was truly scared. Borderline terrified. In my defense it was a valid fear, not an overactive imagination. In retrospect I find it fascinating my body’s reaction to the fear and how spot on authors can be. I’ve always read about shaking hands and weak knees, but never experienced it. It got to the point where I started to believe that it was an author’s cliche, like how people can “read” emotions in others eyes or what not.

It’s odd, how your body reacts. At first I tried to dismiss it all, but my heart was pounding. I could feel it beating in my chest and hear it pumping in my ears. My breath quickened. I tried to walk around to see if my sister was causing the noises and my knees were weak and shaking. I still remember during and after the uncontrollable shaking of my hands. They were severe, but I was having trouble typing. Even now, I can still vividly recall it all.

Surprisingly the authors got it right. But I do wonder if any of them ever really experienced all those phenomena or if the cliches have been regurgitated over and over again. Kind of like the cliche of a kiss with fireworks. Sometimes I wonder if authors are like twelve year old girls writing fan fiction and trying to describe a kiss or situation they have never experienced. They just know that you’re supposed to have shaking hands when scared, just like twelve-year olds know that there are supposed to be fireworks with kisses.

It’s still surprising how my body acted on its own accord. I wonder how I would behave in a true flight or fight situation. I used to be so sure I’d be a flight person, but I’m starting to think, perhaps, maybe I would fight. It’s…comforting? to know you’re tougher than you thought. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m still highly likely to run away, but now I’m beginning to think it is not a certainty.

I realize that this is rather ambiguous.