I should be in bed right now.

Sigh.

fantasy versus reality

Liking fantasy boys is so much easier than liking REAL boys because with fantasy boys there is no awkwardness ever. Or at least, the awkwardness is always endearing.

So as to avoid annoying my friends (and also their mockery) I’ll share my squee moment here. On Monday this guy I kindofsortofmaybeateensybit like came in the lecture hall, saw me, and then sat right next to me! We’ve sometimes sat next to each other before, but usually there’s an empty seat between us and we don’t really talk. Today he sat next to me again!! We chatted about our test and classes.

I’m the worst when it comes to liking a boy because I’m so awkward and I just plain never do anything about it. I legitimately don’t know how to flirt, and I don’t really know if it’s something I want to learn anyway. I’m really passive. Or I just plain lie to myself. Nope, I don’t like him. Or I’ll talk myself out of it. How can you like him? You didn’t learn his name until a month ago.

Hemlines

I have three major, huge projects all due on November 23. Ugh. But for now I won’t complain about school (too much).

living in my own (and small – roughly 11×7) dorm room is not that much of an adjustment for me from living with a roommate. This probably because during the summer I spend most of my time alone anyway, so going to college and having my own room isn’t all that jarring. I rarely see my roommate from last year, Bear, because she’s so busy. We caught up for dinner the other day and she’s so frazzled and stressed over work.

“I miss coming home to you,” she said. “You grounded me.”

I smiled and gave a sympathetic sound. But wanna know a secret? I don’t miss living with her at all. She’s a good friend, but not an ideal roommate for me. Since we had dinner I’ve realized how much relief I’ve felt since living alone because as soon as she comes home i’m not longer innundated with whatever the crisis of the week is – she’s too tired, so she can’t get her work done, and now her teachers hate her; she forgot to turn in an assignment so she needs to plead to her professor; she likes a jackass from church and keeps asking me what she should text back to him. It’s crisis after crisis and in the midst of it I lost myself and my own problems. She wasn’t there to listen to my problems. It’s weird because everyone else considers her an AMAZING listener. Maybe I had to be more direct?

Now I can come home and deal with her crises, but my own concerns and worries, as well as joys. I can live my life on my own schedule as well; I hate making plans with her because she’s so imprecise. “When’s dinner?” “Um…around six.” Six o’clock comes and I’m ready to go eat, but she’s not. Hey, I’m a control freak and I want to know when’s dinner!

I’ve also realized that her crises put me on edge a lot, and I directed a lot of frustration towards her all the damn time. A part of it is my own problem. Growing up anytime something got screwed up I was the one to pick up the slack. My sister and Mom got in a fight at work, and now my sister refuses to work – guess who’s workweek suddenly doubles. My Dad shows up in a drunken rage, guess who has to clean up the mess afterwards and comfort Mom. So on anytime someone doesn’t show up, doesn’t do their job, doesn’t do whatever it is they say they’re going to do, I become irrationally mad. I think on some level I fear everyone will also expect me pick up the pieces and fix it. So imagine being around my roommate and her constant crises of the week. My first reaction is to get mad because in the past whenever there’s a crisis it was me who had to clean it up. But that’s unfair to Bear because she usually doesn’t expect me to actually do anything. She’s aware that she’s put herself in that situation and it’s her fault.

Now that being said, she wasn’t entirely self sufficient. For example, when she told me that I ground her, my first reaction is an almost panic. She does expect me to be there for her, listen, “ground” her. She used to always say “Don’t let me forget….” I would get so mad! Remember your own damn assignments! I don’t have anyone playing secretary for me, why should I be yours? Do like everyone and make a post it.

I don’t hate her or anything. I feel like I’m always griping about her though.

My moods have been highly erratic lately. At times I feel so overwhelmed and I’m seriously freaking the hell out. Sometimes they feel like mini panic attacks. And then other times I’m trying to psych myself up, all rainbows and sunshine and trying to truly live. But honestly, even that has a panicky feeling to it. I feel the panic feeling, panic (of course), and so I desperately try to fight it off with rainbows and butterflies and smiles. I’m terrified of going under again.

I love this song. It makes my chest hurt, but in a good way.

touching hands

xkcd redesigned their home page to honor the closing of GeoCities and it tickles me pink and I can’t help but smile because I totally remember those home pages. It’s so horribly amazing.

I’m obsessed with Glee. Yes, I admit it. And Puck is my new favorite character on television. On a side note, I always seem to fall in love with the couples that probably won’t end up together. It’s an unhealthy love, but it makes me happy.

I’m stressing over grad school like whoa.

I have a presentation due on Wednesday.

Some gummy bears sound good right about now.

crying in bathrooms

I have pretty much been crying in public restrooms for as long as I can remember. My former roommate is currently an RA in the dorms we used to live in first year; when I used the restroom the smell of the air freshener sent me straight back to my first year and I my first memories were not of joking around with my friends as we got ready for bed or left the showers, but was of me crying in the stalls. When I was in therapy I cried after just about every session and the first place I zipped to once I left the office was the bathroom downstairs. Crying in public almost became normal for me.

being heard

About a month ago Bear said something that made me mad, but it was the kind of mad where you don’t realize you’re mad until later when you mull over it. A month later when I remember it I still get a little mad over it.

She was talking about her new boyfriend and how his parents got divorced when he was a junior in high school. “And that’s really hard,” she said.

“You know, my parents got divorced when I was a junior.” I said.

“Oh, really? I thought it happened when you were younger.” And then she moved on with her story.

At the moment I pushed it away, but that night I remembered it and got so mad. First, she was my roommate for two years and she never knew when my parents got divorced? What the heck? Her complete and utter lack of knowledge of my personal life pisses me off. And because she doesn’t know even the basics of my family life, I’m even less inclined to divulge any other information to her, so the gap widens.

What else upset me was the feeling that her boyfriend’s situation was sadder than mine. Like it’s, “Oh poor boyfriend,” and not a care given about how shitty it was when my parents got divorced. I tried to tell her about all the current problems with my sister and she was a horrible audience. It pisses me off.

I think I have a problem with feeling like I’m not being heard. Even my therapist mentioned it. He said, “well it sounds to me like your friends aren’t really listening.” Sometimes that’s all you need. Someone to listen and actually give a damn so you feel like your problems are actually worthwhile. Before he said that I tended to dismiss the feeling that I wasn’t being heard by telling myself not to demand so much attention or that my problems didn’t really matter, and so why should they listen? But they do matter. And it shouldn’t be asking too much for your friends to care.

When I told the same thing to Theory, she was such a better audience. She cared about the situation, devoted all her attention to me, and asked about how I was handling the situation and how I felt about it, not just focusing the whole time on my sister.

pep talks

Note to self:

You are enough. You really are, and don’t you forget it!

Love,
Me

anonymous

Dear red-headed boy with the XKCD t-shirt and duct-taped pvc pipe sword,

I think I’m a little bit in love with you.

Love,
This Girl

blogs

I’m going through somewhat of an existential crisis.

This has been sparked by the blogs I read, my current favorite is Shapely Prose, a fat acceptance blog, but it touches on a lot more. I also read Feministing. I guilty pleasure of mine is to read all the comments on the articles as they dissect the issues. I enjoy seeing the different points of view and I come away from the issue with a completely new understanding. But the more I read, the more I question, how the hell do we function if we are all living life with different points of views and understanding? I guess it comes down to a question of who is right? Is all this discussing actually getting us anywhere? How can we get anywhere if no one is agreeing? And obviously everyone thinks that their opinion is the right way.

Everyone is born with their own life experiences shaped by where they grew up, their family, their race, class, education level, physical capabilities, sexuality, and everything else that makes up a person. My question is how do we come together if we all have our own experiences and thus different points of view? It’s as if we’re all speaking our own language – how do we communicate?

This was not nearly as well written or clear as I had hoped it would be. usually I would have just deleted it, but I need some practice articulating myself. I’ve become rusty. Maybe I’ll return to this question as I mull it over.

I need a hug.