I'll Be Home for Christmas

I'm home for break, and done with my Spanish minor. That in itself is cause for excitement and happiness. But I'm sitting in my room hardly unpacked, with a pile of laundry that needs to be done. Instead I'm taking the bit of alone time I can have to blog, and possibly write later.

I was going to write about my whole body image struggle, since I've recently discovered this amazing blog. I started to do that, and it just took so much out of me that I've put a stop to it. Let's just say that detailing my past through some pretty dark days doesn't help bring in holiday cheer. However, that blog is so positive that it's worth checking out (yours truly is thinking of posting something there).

So what else is there to write about today? I've been struggling with ideas all day. Well, that's a lie. I've had another one, but it's quite sad and it got me down while writing it, so I decided to ditch the idea. I want to write something cheerful! It's almost the holidays!

Well, I guess I'll just write about what the holidays mean to me. Normally, we have forced family fun days when I'm home. But the holidays are different. We get to eat good food, and I at least don't really have to try to have fun with them. Christmas is probably my favorite family holiday. Since we were younger we'd put up the tree, get the presents, keep them all secret, then put them under the tree on Christmas Eve.

When we were younger we just threw all the ornaments on the tree. My mom would put out all the crafts we made in classes as our decorations. We each had a stocking, and they were usually filled with candies, fruits, and an occasional watch or toothbrush. They were the first thing we'd check on Christmas morning. My dog even got a present from her stocking.

Then we'd move on to the presents. We'd have an elf who handed out the presents, and we'd all unwrap at once. Thank you's were exchanged. I miss the joy of thinking that Santa was awesome and got us what we wanted. Thanking the air, thinking that Santa could hear us, and knew how grateful we were to him. Now I realize it was my parents. I think they really enjoyed being Santa for us.

The presents have progressively gotten more expensive, and there have been less under the tree as we've grown. Opening presents has gotten to be a shorter time, and somehow we've added watching one of The Santa Clause movies as a tradition. Usually there's some kind of breakfast that's not cereal to eat, and it's not so much Christmas morning as it is Christmas day.

After presents, my mom works on Christmas dinner. My brother and I open some of our presents, and since there's usually one that's some sort of gadget, we take it out and start reading the directions. My dad watches The Santa Clause. But lately, there have been a few big changes to our routines.

Last year one of my half-sisters came to visit. Last year, there were issues with my dad's check arriving on time. Last year, there was only one present under the tree for me. Last year, we went Christmas shopping the day after (this has never happened). Last year, my one present was returned, and the day after Christmas shopping resulted in a few necessities and one video game.

This year my sister's not coming to visit. This year they didn't wait for me to put up the Christmas tree. This year, I just want Disney movies. This year, if I don't get Disney movies, I think I'll be getting professional clothing. This year, my parents have no Christmas spirit. This year, they're doing the bare minimum with decorations. This year, they're talking about Christmas with a defeated air. This year, it seems like they don't even want to try to make it cheerful.

This year, I think I'm the only one with any Christmas cheer. But this year, I'm going to infect everyone with Christmas cheer somehow, even if it takes me until Christmas Eve, or even Christmas Day, to do so. My family needs some Christmas cheer after the year we've had, so I'm going to deliver it to them.

No more Grinches in my house!

The Man Who Can't Be Moved

Well, it's finals week. Last week was swamped with things to do, from Tuesday night on. It wasn't fun, work-wise. But now it's good. I get to relax today and some of tomorrow. But onto writing things. Things that I don't really know what to write about. I've been going for so long that I don't really have anything in my head to write about.

We've had TBS on the TV while we've been studying. Mainly Friends. And it's been getting me thinking about my own friends, and my life. We're going to get an apartment next year, which means we'll be more on our own than we have been at college so far. We have to get furniture, pay rent, and cook. Oh good lord, cooking. That's an interesting thought. And then I'll be farther from campus, which should be interesting. But we get our own apartment.

And then what about next year? The last year I'll be on campus. The last year I'll be in Muncie, and probably living in Indiana. I know it's a year away, but for some reason I keep thinking about it. I have no idea where I'm going to end up. A lot of people are talking about going to grad school, but I really don't know why I'd go, or where I'd end up for that matter. I kind of wanna just go and jump into work already, or go to fashion/dance/photography/culinary school. Go do something I have an interest in and no background whatsoever.

The only reason I'd be going to grad school would be because I like being a student and have nothing else to do with my life. But really, I'm kind of sick of school and just want to get on with my life. I'm still very reliant on my parents, and I kind of want to start going on my own. But that's what the apartment will be for next year.

But I don't even know why I'm thinking about graduation when I don't have any idea where I'm going to intern this summer. That's what I should really be focusing on, but my mind keeps jumping to even further in the future. And I think it's mostly about my future relationships.

I don't really want to leave my friends behind, but I'm afraid that it'll happen when I go back home. It's already hard enough to keep in touch with a lot of them, and I'm afraid that when I go home it'll be even harder. I don't want to think like that, but I don't want to lose them. I've got a whole year and a half though, to change things and figure them all out. But I want to stay friends with everyone, kind of like in Friends. But more importantly, I want them to be like in Sex and the City. The four friends who stick together through everything well into their 30's. Weekly brunches and things like that.

I think I've been thinking too much, because I've even been thinking about people that I've just met, and how things will play out in the future. I've already become incredibly attached to this school, these people, my job, and this year in general. It makes me incredibly sad to think that because I'm just one state over, I won't be close to the people who have become my second family at school. So I guess I'll try and keep things the way they are with some, and improve them greatly for the rest.

*This has kind of been a throwaway post*

A Matter of Trust

Hm. It's been awhile since I last wrote. At least, it feels like it.

I guess a bit has been going on since then. I came back to school, did more homework, lost all motivation for classes, and broke my longest single streak to date (rounded up to 8 months). And that's a joyous occasion, I think you'd agree. Not only did I wait it out, but now I think I've found someone who isn't like the rest. At the very least, he's been single for a year and a half and should be over all his ex-girlfriends.

But that doesn't change the fact that I haven't confided a lot of things to him, being Adam. I'm scared to, I'll be honest. The last guy I started to confide in just wanted to try and get in my pants, and the one before him, well, you know about that. I'm pretty sure that Adam's trustworthy and won't use that against me, but that doesn't change the fact that I still feel like I can't really trust, well, anyone really. At least, no one that I haven't known for a while, which has extended to include females.

Over the summer I thought it was that I just wasn't confiding in guys anymore, but some of the people I've met this year through work and have become quite close to, I don't want to tell them certain things about my past. And not because I'm trying to hide it; but because something's stopping me.

No one I've met this year has given me a reason to be nervous about telling them things, least of all Adam. In fact, he's been incredibly sweet to me. And even when I wrote that, I know there are things that if he came over right now and asked me about, I wouldn't tell him. I just have a feeling that he truly won't hurt me intentionally in any way, but I still can't tell him the things that have hurt me before. Mainly because the last time I thought that, he did. In the same way the rest did.

I don't know how this new fear of confiding in people will affect this, and us. It's bugging me, to be honest. But I can't seem to get past it, so I guess I'll just have to deal with it and see where it takes me.

Trust is a funny thing.

Thank You

Obligatory Thanksgiving post coming up.

This is the first Thanksgiving in three years that I've been able to celebrate in my own house. Senior year (2007), my grandmother passed a few days before, so we were in Marion arranging her funeral. Freshman year (2008) we were in Ft Wayne with my mom's side of the family, since it was the first year anniversary of Mimi's death. Last year we were in Ohio, once again with my mom's side. But this year I get to celebrate the holidays with my family and friends, some of whom I consider my second family. I'm thankful for that.

I could sit here and write out the other things I'm thankful for, like the fact that my immediate family is still here, how my friends have stuck through my life, the opportunities I've had, and things like that. But that's what almost everyone else who is listing what they're thankful for is doing. I am truly thankful for all of the above, but this year there's something I'm thankful for that I've not been thankful for in a long time, if not ever.

Me.

I'm not trying to sound selfish or conceited, but I'm thankful for Dayna. Since I grew out of the phase of "everyone's my friend," I've also left behind that idea of being content with who I am. I've always felt the need to improve myself. I wanted to be one of the cool kids in elementary school, so I did everything they did and threw a tantrum when I couldn't be for some reason or other.

I tried to be like my best friends in middle school, since they seemed to have this sense of self-worth that I was lacking. And in high school, I tried to be the girl that someone, somewhere wanted to be with. But I was never trying to be someone I wanted to be. I was always trying to improve myself so that maybe, if everyone else liked me, then I could like me.

High school was the worst period of self-loathing, for lack of a better term. While I didn't really hate myself, I didn't really want to be me, either. And it seemed like constantly, no one else really minded if I were me or someone else, so long as I was there to listen to their problems and help them out. I did whatever I could think of to change myself into someone I liked, but it didn't really work. So I focused on being the girl that the boys I was interested in liked. As I've written before, I got my self-esteem from them.

And then college hit, and I was on my own. I had to be a person that I was going to rely on, because I had no one else with me to look out for me. I'm not sure if I changed into a better person over these past two and a half years, or if I just started to accept who I am, but I honestly think I started to change.

This past summer is the one I'm most thankful for, because this summer was the one that I started to like me. If you've stuck with me, you know what happened. If not, suffice it to say that I worked on things I've never confronted and came out with a different view of myself and my life.

So this Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that I'm the person I am today. Though it's taken me a good chunk of time to reach this place, I know that at least one person is thankful for the person I am today. Which is perfectly fine for me. If no one else is thankful for the person I've become, then they haven't really wanted the best for me.

My gratuitous post is now done.

What Makes You Different

I think I've missed two weekends of updating this. And the main reason is because I couldn't think of anything to write about. Sure, I've been a bit busier lately, but I haven't had anything really on my mind.

I'm not even sure why this particular remark stuck with me, but it's been there since she said it. I was talking to one of my friends who I met this year at work, and she said that I have a strong personality and it balances out with someone I'm interested in. And I've never been told I have a strong personality. It was a weird experience.

If you've taken the time to read any other entries (especially from over the summer with my 90 in 90 challenge), then you can see that I haven't had a strong personality for awhile. In fact, part of the reason why I think I have a "strong" personality is because of all the writing I did over the summer for this blog, and all the things I allowed myself to learn about life and, well, me.

I've been told that I'm a strong person before, on multiple occasions. I've dealt with some things internally that many people have issues dealing with even if they have others helping them. Not only did I get through those times, but I learned from them as well. My friends have praised me on how I've handled myself in spite of all of this. But no one who has just met me knows any of this.

So it was really weird for her to tell me that I've got a strong personality. The reason I had to be a "strong" person was because of my personality. I was a people pleaser. Not only that, but I was also a hopeless romantic who believed that if we loved each other, nothing else would matter. I thought that having that one and only was the biggest thing in my life to make me happy, and to make me valuable.

I relied too heavily on what the opposite sex thought about me. I gained my validation from them - how I felt about my appearance, how I felt about myself, and how I could keep those feelings coming. My personality traits that make me a strong personality right now were always silenced if they differed too heavily from whoever I was with or trying for. As a result, I was pretty much used and walked over for a few years.

I started to realize it sometime last year, and I started to allow certain traits to come out more. I was probably most myself in a relationship with Dave than I had been with anyone else, but that doesn't mean that I allowed everything to be seen by him. There were still things about me that he didn't see, mainly because I decided to keep those to myself. Granted, there were very few, but there were still some.

And then this summer happened, and I decided that enough was enough. I don't want to have to pretend or hide things about myself so that another guy can decide if he likes me or not, and then end up feeling like shit when everything ended. So that's where that summer came in. I worked through things and came out on the other side as a strong personality, I guess.

I was talking to someone else I met this year, and he was surprised when I said I wasn't nearly this confident last year. I take it to mean that I achieved my goal from the summer. Not only am I more confident, but I have a strong personality. I'm not as afraid to initially be myself around a guy I'm interested in. I've started to speak up about things that I do or don't want, and (to a lesser extent) things that bug me.

And I'm not that hopeless romantic who believes that finding that one true love will result in complete happiness. And my confidence does not need to come from some male telling me that he loves me. I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy; in fact, I've had a lot of fun being single. I think I've also started to approach things much more rationally and level-headed.

Which means that I think that lofty idea of the summer of change actually worked. Well done.

I Am Not a Whore

My life has become significantly less rushed since I've finished three of my five week classes.

And now, I can attempt to focus my energies on Spanish, which I'm sorry to say isn't really happening. I'm at the point where I really can't do much to bring up my grade until the next quiz, and I don't even know when that is. So that's kind of not much of a worry anymore. But that's alright, because I've got a lot of other drama to observe.

Mainly this idea of a one night stand. A few people that I've talked to have said that it's actually not as bad as you'd think it would be. I've even heard that it's recommended to have at least one in your lifetime, in a magazine no less. I won't lie and say that the thought of having one hasn't crossed my mind before. But I know that I wouldn't be able to go through with it once the time came.

Maybe it's because I'm not the stereotypical college student. I don't like going to big parties. I don't really enjoy the idea hooking up with just anyone. I don't need to drink to have fun; in fact, there are a lot of times when I just don't want to drink, but everyone around me does. I like relationships over random hookups or friends with benefits.

But some people that I know who I never thought would have a one night stand have, and they didn't turn out as bad as I expected. Granted, there were a few who got invested, but that's to be expected. I just know that I can't go through with it, mainly because I had an opportunity to do just that earlier, and it didn't happen.

Though that situation wasn't really a one night stand situation, because I had gotten to know him before the time came to actually do anything. But that's beside the point. I knew him and I wasn't going to get with him, so how is not knowing someone any better for me to hook up with them? I don't understand the logic.

I can't give myself away to just anyone. To be honest, until this summer I have never even kissed someone without any expectations. The only times I've kissed someone was when I was in a relationship, or expected to be in one shortly after. That is hard enough for me to deal with, so I really don't think sleeping with someone I don't know is something I can do.

And I know all the complications. I don't want to be viewed as just a sex object, because I have a brain as well. I don't like being underestimated, and I feel like if I just slept with someone that would be their highest expectation of me. I also know that I can and do get attached to people, and I view sex as something private. It's something to be shared between two people that love each other, so I'd probably feel like a whore after.

I guess that makes me really traditional in my views of sex then. But you know what? I think that if you really just want sex, then I don't want anything to do with you. So if waiting to get to know me and love me seems like a tough and unenjoyable concept, then I'm perfectly fine with you letting me know and then cutting off contact.

I like to think that this mentality makes me more mature, but at the same time maybe it's an immature view of sex. I'm not sure, but if you're reading this I'd really like to hear your thoughts.

Halloween

So I actually had a pretty good week.

I got all my projects done, didn't work too much, and had a free weekend. I helped to organize a Halloween party for work, and that was a lot of fun. Though I didn't study as much as I should have because of it, since I had two tests on Friday. But Friday night I went to a friend's for a party, and it was nice to hang out with them because I don't get to see them very often anymore. Then last night I went to a co-worker's party, and heard about all the shenanigans that I had missed since I went to a friend's instead of my boss' party. And here's when I start in on Halloween.

My friends, people I don't know, even movies like Mean Girls say that Halloween is the only holiday a girl can dress like a slut and no one can say anything about it. Well, here's my thing: If you look like a slut, I'm gonna say something. I might not say it to your face, but believe me, I am judging your slutty ass in that skimpy costume. I don't care how "hot" you are, you still look like a whore.

And that's the thing I really don't like about this holiday. I don't like dressing like a slut, and my version of tarty clothing is different than a lot of peoples'. But trying to find a costume that's not ho-tastic is incredibly frustrating. What makes it worse is that I have these things called curves, which makes the skirts shorter in the back and the tops tighter. Of course, a good 90% of all womens' costumes have skirts (big surprise there). Unless you make your costume, you're in danger of having some part of your costume show more skin than necessary, and for me comfortable.

But when did this holiday become this way? I don't remember skanky costumes when I was younger being advertised in the Halloween stores. The kids' costumes are having less material as well. I don't understand why this holiday means we put our bodies on display for drunken guys to ogle at. Quite frankly, I'd rather have attention from a sober guy in my regular clothes than the drunken guy who likes me because I'm a "princess" or a "superhero" whose costume is nowhere near conducive to fighting crime (or covering up).

My Halloween costumes are tasteful, I believe. I've been a spy for a few years, I was a fairy once (with a cami to cover my cleavage), I was a pirate freshman year with the rest of my friends, I was Catwoman last year and the only skin you could see was from the neck up, and this year I was a few things. I was the "Walk of Shame" for work (which was a lot of fun), I was a ringleader at the smaller party, and I was Little Red/Dead Riding Hood for the co-worker's party.

I wore the same black tights to all the parties. I had shorts on for each costume. And my top was covered as well. Sure, the dress was shorter than anything I wear, but my costume choices were rather conservative compared to other peoples'. And to be honest, though I was wearing shorts I didn't feel completely comfortable in it. And I got "cute costume" the whole night. Let's be honest, I wanted more than cute costume. I guess since for me it was "sexier" than what I'm used to, it was just normal for everyone else.

I had fun in my costume. I liked my costume a lot. I did think it was cute. I wasn't going for sexy. Which is why I'm confused as to why I'm annoyed I didn't get anything more than cute. Maybe it's because of the reputation Halloween has. Though I don't want to look like a slut, it does get you down after awhile of being ignored when the friends you came with keep getting hit on. Especially when you think and have been told that you're more attractive than them, even if it is just by friends who are female.

I want to take back Halloween. I want to have a fun costume, be it funny or homemade or sexy, whatever I feel like being that day/year. I want to go trick-or-treating, because free candy is amazing. I want to talk to people because they have a pretty sweet costume, and I want people to talk to me because of the same reason. I want to spend weeks getting excited about it, and maybe going to a haunted house or watching scary movies.

Seems to me I want to go back to being a kid.

Fight For All the Wrong Reasons

Thankfully I've had a slightly less stressful week. I'm home now, going to a concert in a few hours.

Since I've actually almost had some time to myself, I've been watching a little more TV than I usually get to, or a movie here and there. And I started watching Save the Last Dance, and I had been watching another TV show earlier this week, and it got me thinking about something that seems really prevalent in these types of things.

Whenever there's a fight scene and the antagonist decides he (or she) has to send a message to the protagonist through a physical means, usually the antagonist isn't alone. Usually, when the protagonist needs to be roughed up, the antagonist has a few of his (or her) friends come with and hold the protagonist back. While they're doing this, they're also usually yelling at the protagonist for being a coward or something like that.

Here's what I don't understand about these people: If you're calling them a coward or weak or something, then why are you the one that has to have back up so you all can effectively beat them up? One on three really isn't courageous, and it's definitely not honorable. If you're fighting for honor or something, then take them on one on one. If you can't take them alone, then why are you making them such a target?

Another thing that doesn't make any sense to me is this standard of preferring men over women. I just finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns, and the husband is so preoccupied with having a son. He completely ignores his daughter, and then the Taliban takes over and prohibits women of pretty much anything. I don't understand why you would disown a girl, abuse her, kill her, or starve her to death.

First off, she's still a human. That's the main reason why you shouldn't do that. But what I don't understand is, what if everyone in that society decided to do that? Kill off all the newborn girls, and keep the newborn boys only. What happens when they grow up? Men can't really procreate by themselves, so isn't that effectively killing your society? Yes, there may be a few older women still around, but there's a good chance they can't have any more children by the time this happens.

I don't know if I'm a feminist, per se. I mean, I'm perfectly OK if a draft comes along and I'm exempt because I'm a woman. I do not like being seen as only something for sex (which seems to be becoming extremely common now, for some reason). I can handle being paid a few cents less here and there. At my old job, I was actually paid more than the guys I worked with. I haven't really encountered anything that makes me feel like I should have to fight for more rights for women, except for rape laws.

But that's not the point of this. The point is that there are things that seem to occur frequently that I have no clue how it makes sense. Killing all the women is silly. Wanting to have a baby boy makes sense, but a child's still a child, and they're still your child. And fighting for honor is not honorable when you don't even have the balls to fight one on one.

Sometimes, I really don't understand people.

Breakin' At the Cracks

This past week wasn't too busy for me, actually.

But I haven't had much to write about, blogging-wise. I've wanted to write for the past week, I just haven't really had a chance to. I really can't write if there are others around, and Tif's been in the room this whole week. I really don't think I've got anything new on my mind that I haven't already written about.

The cycle of thoughts since I last wrote have been: Death, being lonely, being sick of sickeningly sweet coupling (mainly from TV/movies), wanting to write some stories, work, and Halloween. I've wanted to fence in the mornings, but by the time practice rolls around I don't do anything. I've been forgetting about a lot of homework, and I'm almost apathetic to my Spanish class right now. I kind of just don't care about this thing called school lately.

I think I'm starting to burn out. This semester I've only had time for school and sleep, and no social life outside of work. Pretty sure that's taking its toll on me now. But it's not really like anyone else wants to help with this social life aspect that I haven't met at the wall, besides for Tif. I love talking to people. I like doing things that don't involve speaking Spanish or learning history. I like being with people.

I just feel like I'm complaining right now, so I'm going to go find something to do. There may be another mini-post this week to make up for this.

Dead and Gone

It's been a rough week.

My uncle died Sunday night (10/3). I've been so busy with work and school that I haven't really had a chance to process it, and I won't even be able to go to the funeral because I can't afford to miss any of my classes. I feel bad that I won't be able to go, but I only recently reconnected with him, so we weren't that close. I feel bad that I'm making school my priority, and not my family. I know my mom could use me right now.

I'm going to admit something here that I've only admitted to one other person: I think I don't deal with death very well. This is now the fourth family member whose died in recent years: My grandpa in 8th grade, my uncle on my dad's side a few weeks later, my grandma senior year, and my uncle this week. I haven't really cried for any of them, save my grandma. I think it might be because I didn't really know them too well, but I still feel like I should have stronger reactions.

I sat at the funeral of my grandpa silently, with maybe a few tears coming out. I'm not sure if I cried for my Uncle Robert a few weeks after. And I cried for my grandma, who I knew the best out of all of them. I think a part of that, though, was because of my mother's reaction. It was horrible and I'm tearing up right now just thinking about it.

These people are family, and I can't muster up any tears for them. Yes, I feel sad, but the feeling passes fairly quickly. I was more upset over Dave dumping me than I've been for any of them dying combined. Hell, I think I've cried over movie characters more than I have over any family members, and I feel like that's just not right.

I feel like a horrible person for not mourning for many of my family members, and mourning over fictionalized events instead. And even worse because my Uncle Bryant was 47, and died of a stroke. After about an hour I started to worry about my mother, who is older than him, but still from the same side of the family. She's already had an unexplained heart attack, so something like this could potentially happen to her too.

I don't want to think about it. I don't want to imagine how I'd feel if my mother died. I'm scared that I'll have the same reaction to her death, or my father's, or my brother's, as I did with my grandma. I'm scared that I could have a stronger reaction to one of my friends' deaths than theirs. That's not supposed to happen.

The thought also came up that maybe I'm just good at dealing with death. I don't let it consume me or my mind. I don't wallow, I don't wonder what if. Maybe I'm not afraid of death, and that's why I don't get so choked up over it. Maybe I've taken Dumbledore's (and J.K. Rowling's) words to heart: To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

Or maybe I just can't spare any emotions for people who have gone on.

All I Can Do is Write About It

It's Saturday night, I'm sitting in pajamas with SNL on, trying to figure out what homework I want to do next. I've been alone all weekend again. Such is life I guess.

I don't really have a lot of time to think about a lot of things during my week anymore. This past one was so tolling on me that I almost had a few break downs because of my Spanish class and my iPod getting stolen. I didn't realize how attached I was to that thing until it went missing. But that's not what I want to write about tonight, though I'm not sure what it is I want to write about.

I've noticed a lot lately that people get incredibly interested when I tell them I'm a journalism major. Usually it's a good kind of interested, which I haven't really expected because so many people don't hold journalists in high regard. But people who I talk to start to ask me a lot of questions about what I want to do after I graduate, why I went into journalism, and who I hope to eventually interview.

Like today. I went to the mall and an older gentleman was waiting for his daughter to meet up with him so they could go do something else. He asked what my major was, and what I want to do with my life as a journalist. This is almost always the first question that I get when I tell people my major, especially if I throw magazine in there. They usually get surprised when I tell them my answer of write for Time down the line.

But they do have a good point. What am I doing after I get out of here? I don't even know where I'm going to intern this summer, though that's not for a lack of trying to find somewhere. For now, though, I'm not really too worried about that. But I digress. This man was very interested in my passion for writing, and proceeded to tell me about how Taylor University has an incredible writing program that I now want to check out.

Later today, I was doing my homework for my photo class. The assignment was to take a close-up of 20 strangers and get basic info about them. Everyone I asked was very helpful, and some of them were really interested in why I had to take pictures. I had a family come in and talk to me about why I chose Time over all the other magazines, and we started talking about the other magazines I'd like to write for. We also talked about the fact that they're teaching us everything we could be asked to do, and how Ball State is doing a good job of making us really marketable.

I wish I could've taken some of these classes for longer than five weeks. I feel like there's so much more I could learn that I want to learn, but there's just not enough time. I'm glad I got the chance to take a lot of these, but I want more. Like photo. I kind of wish I had double majored in magazine and photo, but I think it's probably too late to try and do that.

I realized that again tonight, when I was taking the pictures. I've written before about wanting to learn this profession, but having no way of learning. Tonight I also got to do mini-interviews, so now I want to go out and interview people again. Which is good, because I'm taking an interview class, and that's something I've missed lately. And writing. I just don't have any time. Or place to publish.

I know I want to get out there and be able to do interview of famous people. There's one that I aspire to get, and that's J.K. Rowling (of course). I even have an idea of how I can pitch that story idea, though I'm going to keep that to myself. I don't even really want to go out there and interview a lot of famous people. I just want to interview people who are passionate about something. I want to write stories that interest me. I kind of want to be known for stories about body image issues, I think.

So basically, I'm pretty sure I picked the right major for me. Go me. I'm just going to end this post, because I'm thoroughly distracted and I don't think this makes much sense at all. But I hope you enjoyed my rambles about people being interested in journalists.

Someday You Will be Loved

It's been awhile since I last wrote something. That's mainly because I've had the worst writer's block lately. I have no idea what I'm going to write about today.

This is the first time that I've known how long I'll have alone time, and you know what? I don't really want to have the room to myself. I feel like being social and having fun with my friends. But I can't do that. Tif's at a self defense seminar all day, Lauren's at CPR training or celebrating her six month anniversary, and Tori's at Mounds Park doing archeological things. Jackie's back home with her boyfriend, and I don't really know anyone else that well that I'd like to hang out with.

No one from home is available to talk to, and I don't even think I'd have anything to talk to anyone about since I think I'm getting sick and I'm sleepy. Unfortunately, today is the point in time of being single where you kind of miss being in a relationship. I could've planned out a great day with him, ending in seeing Sharktopus on SyFy (which looks hilarious). Instead, I'm trying to think of things to write about and eventually going to Tif's self-defense seminar. I know I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy (unlike some people), but I'm starting to almost miss it a bit.

I'm at the point where I miss the cuddling. I miss getting a random text message. I miss knowing that at some point in time, someone's probably thinking about me. I miss having someone who wants to be around me. But really, that's about all that I miss about having a relationship/boyfriend.

I don't miss kissing anymore, or anything else that can progress from that. I don't miss trying to fit seeing him into my already stressful and busy schedule. I don't miss having to deal with other girls hitting on him and watching him flirt back. (Though I also miss not getting hit on or eye-f*cked.) I don't miss being frustrated with things he does. I almost don't miss that rush that you get when you're with them. I kind of don't miss being in love.

This is a first for me. I don't want to be in a relationship. I don't want to fall in love. What I want is to go on dates with people. What I want is good conversation. What I want is someone to talk to me with the intent of getting to know me, not getting in my pants. What I want is for someone to give me a hug when I need it, and watch a movie with me. What I want is to explore new interests, either for two people or just for me. What I want is to see someone do something they're passionate about, or hear them talk about it. What I want is adventure, something new to me.

Maybe I do want love then. Maybe that's the type of love I'm looking for. Not the type where you rush into things, and show your love through a physical means. Maybe I want deep, true love, where you're connected not only physically, but emotionally and intellectually.

I don't think I'll find that type of love here. I don't think I should find that type of love here. After my undergrad I'm not going to stay in Indiana. I'll probably go back home, maybe even to New York. So really, what's the point in finding that big love and expecting them to follow me? Especially since most of their family is probably still in Indiana.

But then again, maybe that's what you do when you truly love somebody.

Strangers Like Me

Things are finally slowing down a bit over here, so I might be back on a weekly schedule to update this! In case you were wondering, the rock wall is still fun to work at, though we've had a lot less traffic. I do admit it is a bit nice to not feel so rushed and swamped, but it's a bit quiet in there sometimes.

I realized something this weekend, after both working at the wall all weekend and catching up with Dave. The only males I'm close to and comfortable talking to for prolonged periods of time are those I've dated. I've got plenty of male friends, but I don't confide in them. If I tell them something, then about five other friends know what I'm thinking about as well.

I'm not really sure why I do that, especially since two of the three dumped me, and those were painful break ups. I guess maybe since we shared something that I don't share with everyone makes me more willing to open up to them. Or maybe I just really like the familiar. Even that doesn't make sense, though. I've known some of my other male friends for just as long, if not longer than some of my exes, and I have no desire to confide in them.

It could be because the last guy I was close to, I ended up dating for over a year (Zack). We were friends for a good year before we started dating, and most of my male friends now have a girlfriend. It could be just because I've never really had a lot of male friends.

Or I just might not trust someone from the opposite sex unless I can trust them enough to date them. I think this one makes the most sense, especially considering my summer discussions with another guy. I had never dated him, but it felt like we both wanted to and were separated by four hours. I started to confide in him a bit, and in turn he did with me. Somewhere down the line he just wanted me for sex, but that doesn't really matter. The point is that if I can see myself kissing them and maybe dating them, then I trust them.

Which is weird, because the only time I've gotten hurt by a male is if I were dating him. I can't date my female friends, so I just trust them after they've proven they can be trustworthy. But as a guy, they have to take that extra step to gain more than basic trust. And I'm not even sure what that extra step is supposed to be.

Maybe I should work on that.

Change the World

I have time to relax before working tonight, so I thought I'd post right now. And it's an angry post concerning certain sentiments towards Muslims that have been making headlines.

It makes sense that there is a lot of news about Muslims being released right now. Ramadan is ending, and the celebration of Eid is upon us. Unfortunately, Islam is also connected to the attacks on America on September 11, 2001. It is this date and this attack that is releasing the firestorm of discussion on Islam in the news lately.

The big thing that's been going on for the past month plus is the location of an Islamic center in New York. It's two or three blocks from Ground Zero (I've heard both numbers), and many Americans believe it's a "slap in the face" to everything that was lost on September 11. They say it's "disrespectful" towards the families that lost someone in the attacks.

And yet no one has any qualms with the strip club, McDonald's, bars, and other commercial outlets that are closer than the proposed site. So we can't allow people to go practice their faith in good spirits, but can feed into capitalism and have our base sexual needs fulfilled, all because a few people practiced the same religion?

Let's get something straight: Islam is a fairly peaceful religion. You have extremists in every religion (Westboro Baptist ring a bell?), and throughout history Christians have committed some pretty horrible acts in the name of religion as well. But since they were the winners, they got to write history and decide that their actions were justified.

Not only that, but Islam has a fair amount in common with Christianity. The key aspect of Christianity is the belief that Christ was the son of God. Well, guess what? Muslims believe that Jesus was a prophet. That's what makes it not Christian. But they do believe that he was an important aspect in their religion. They also feel the same way about Muhammad, Abraham, and Moses. Allah is the Arabic word for God; the Gods are the same.

Why focus on all the differences between your religions instead of finding common ground? Why not try and discuss the location of the Islamic center instead of protesting, hurling slurs, and generally being a bigot? Why call for the government to halt the development of the project, when the First Amendment guarantees us freedom of religion?

Take a second and put yourself in their place. Say your religion has been attacked for the past nine years, because a few crazies went too far. Say people look at you out of the corner of their eyes because of what you believe is truth. Say you're told you're not a citizen because of your faith. Now imagine you hear the nation is rallying to stop the building of your place of worship because these few crazies did something horrible that you were appalled by. How would you feel?

Let's take it a step further: How would you feel if someone was declaring to burn copies of the Bible to send a message to the Westboro Baptist Church? You'd be quite upset, right? Lucky for you that this nation has a good number of Christians in power, so this probably won't ever happen to you. But for Muslims in America, it is.

Terry Jones, a pastor in Florida, has scheduled a protest to burn copies of the Koran (Qur'an) on September 11 to send a message to extremist Muslims. He claims he's all right with the moderates, but either way he tries to cover his bigoted ideas, he's still burning a holy book of a massive group of people, and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate it if a non-Christian burned the Bible.

Thankfully, it's been reported that he's calling off his protest if he gets a conference with the Imam of the Islamic center that's the center of so much controversy, and the Imam has agreed. Even so, it disgusts me that people can be so short-sighted as to walk around with these ideas in their head that what they're doing is acceptable.

The media has come up with a term for what seems to be sweeping the country: Islamaphobia. People are afraid of the little they know about Islam, and don't even go and try to find out more. They just believe the few things they've heard from whatever "news source," or judge based on what happened September 11. It's 2010; we should know by now to do research before forming opinions. We should know by now how dangerous stereotypes can be. We should know by now that it's not right to condemn a whole group of people for the actions of a few.

Shouldn't we be proving to the world that we can still be a melting pot, and that our country is one to be proud of? Showing off our bigots isn't helping this cause.

I'm Not Comin' to Your Party Girl

I've been incredibly busy since I last had time to sit down and blog. Work and classes has made it nearly impossible to retain a social life outside of those, unless we count fencing club. But I'm home for the weekend, and taking some time for myself, even if it does end up biting me in the ass come Monday.

There's been something on my mind that I've wanted to write about for about a week now, and it's something that I've thought about multiple times before. It has to do with beautiful people, once again. But this time it's not about how we should fit into this standard body type that consists of weight and bra size. This time it has to do with how someone perceives beauty. Or, rather, why lately it feels like I have to work twice as hard as most of my friends to be noticed.

This summer, especially when I went to school early, was the summer that I've finally started to not only accept my body the way it is, but also to embrace the fact that I'm pretty. I don't know if I'd go so far as to say beautiful, but I finally accept that I am an attractive individual. It's taken awhile to believe it, and I'm glad that I haven't gotten a big head about it. Well, I thought I hadn't gotten a big head about it.

In the past two and a half weeks I've had a few people challenge that idea, and made me feel less than the attractive me that I've finally started to see myself as. I was with a guy, and we were talking about things, and he called me a "cute woman." I've never been called cute by a guy before, unless it's about something that I'm doing. I've never had anything less than "beautiful," to be honest. So when I just got a "cute" it was a bit offsetting, especially when many other adjectives would've worked more for his benefit than cute. Though he did call me a woman, and I've never been called that without "young" in front of it.

I have a friend who says that calling a girl cute normally means that the guy wishes she had a better body, but other than that finds her attractive. Which was probably true, since eventually he did "admit" that I "have a nice ass." This was coming from a guy who had every intention of being more than just friends with me that night (only), and it was weird to be called "cute" by a guy who had those intentions.

And then I saw said guy a few days ago, and I got to see first hand what his definition of "pretty" or above was. Let me tell you, it's something I can never aspire to be. First off, because I have no desire to turn orange, nor do I have a need to do so. Second off, I will never have a runner's body. Third, I'm not a freshman. And fourth, I'm not afraid to challenge his ideas or speak my mind. So maybe that's why I was just cute to him. He didn't notice me that day either; I guess cute girls don't register to him when there's no chance of getting in their pants.

It seems like a girl becomes more attractive the higher the chance there is of getting laid. For example, last week I went to a party with a friend of mine. I think she and I are on the same place of the attractiveness scale, above the neck. However, while this may sound conceited, I feel like I have a better body than her. I didn't get any attention at the party, but she got plenty.

Maybe it's because she seemed more drunk than I did, and the guys thought they'd have a better shot with her. Maybe it's because I didn't really look drunk, and looked a bit bored. Maybe it's because guys can tell when a girl just got out of a relationship (one week for her). I can't help but to also think that maybe it's because I'm black. And that's where it seems like my problem lies: outside of my race, I have to work incredibly hard to be noticed and accepted as attractive.

Now, race doesn't really matter to me. If you're a decent person, I'll talk to you. It seems like most of the people in my classes are white, though, so I do have a higher percentage of white friends, and, since I like to know the people I'm dating, the boyfriends follow that trend. But at the party I went to, I was the only person who wasn't white, and I didn't get any attention unless my friend was otherwise engaged.

I feel really petty about getting upset about this, and it almost feels like I'm judging my friend. Unfortunately, when we're talking about beauty, we do judge. People saw her from across the room and wanted to talk to her; no one wanted to talk to me. Then again, the reason could be that I'm not a big partier and I'm naturally shy, even if I do have alcohol in my system.

I don't wear skirts. My shorts cover my thighs 90% of the time. I don't wear leggings as pants. I hardly wear heels. I never wear sandals. My party clothing is rather limited, and I really only like having my body on display from the waist up. My hair has a mind of its own, and I hardly wear make up. All reasons why I'm not your typical party girl.

Often it feels like in order to attract someone, I have to be that typical party girl. That's not me, and it's frustrating to watch 90% of my female peers buy into this, and 99% of my male peers prefer that to me and the rest of the girls who don't feel the need or see the attraction of it.

I wish there were a way to get them to see that there's so much more to college, that there's so much more to life, than partying and getting laid.

Alone in this Bed

Hi all! It's been awhile.

Well, it feels like it has. For the past week I haven't had much to do past 10:30, and as such felt extremely weird not wandering over here to try to write something. So I'd just spend more time online, which made me bored earlier, which made me go to sleep earlier. That was nice. And now I'm at school, sitting in my dorm room with PJ (who says hi), and I don't have a TV. That is quite sad.

So is the fact that I'm already here, because I had to come back about two weeks early. I would much prefer to be at home with my family and friends, but I get to work at the rock wall and get paid early for it. I just wish I could either have someone here every night, like a roommate who is also here to work early, or something like that.

But I don't have that, so I'm in this dorm room that's hardly been unpacked because I want something to do with my day(s) when PJ goes home. I've missed blogging, especially at school, because it was something I started at school. It feels comfortable here. For now.

I know that I'll get sick of this town very soon, and I'll be wanting to go home. I'll get sick of the food, or of the stuff I bought from Wal-Mart today, and beg for someone to come visit me and take me in town. I'll want to escape for the weekends to someone's house, and be surrounded by friends.

I'll have almost no one here in a few days, and I like being surrounded by people. Yes, I do like my solitude every once in awhile, but for two weeks is a bit much. Maybe it'll get my urge to be alone out of my system faster.

There comes a time every few weeks where I just need to be alone, so I take walks around campus, usually later in the evening. And that's how I get my thinking done, as well as focus myself on one or a few tasks. Sometimes I just need movement. I'm hoping though, that since I'll have been so alone here that I'll greatly minimize the amount of alone time I'll need.

And that's my ramble for the night, since PJ keeps making me lose my train of thought.

In the End (90/90)

I just got back from getting my dad at the airport.

Today's the last of the 90 in 90 challenge. I had an idea for where I wanted this to go back on day 30-ish. I wanted to pick selections of my favorite posts and lay it out for you, dear reader. I wanted you to know what my favorite ideas were that I had, or what were my favorite bits of writing. I wanted to let you know why I felt that way.

But instead of doing that, I have another thing to blog about. One last blog for the 90. And it kind of is a summary of my past entries, but also a new idea I had been playing around with for a bit. Throughout this whole challenge I've used the word "I" so many times. I understand it's my blog and my opinions on life.

But what about when I step away from the blog, and start to interact with the world? What about when I talk to my friends? I noticed that not only were most of my blog posts filled with "I's" and "me's," but most of my conversations with my friends were as well. Granted, most of my conversations this summer have been trying to give friends advice on their situations, and the way that I can do that is by drawing on my past experiences.

Even when trying to catch up with people, I noticed that when I tried to talk about other peoples' lives, somehow I'd get off on a tangent, even if it was just a simple "I understand." Since I've been conscious of it, I've tried to restrain myself from doing that. I don't like jumping into a conversation and dominating it with my life stories, especially if someone has a problem they want to talk about.

When you do that, though, it allows the other person you're talking to dominate the conversation for their own purposes. Some people don't notice this, and many will change the topic when they realize what they were doing. But there have been a few people I know who never acknowledged it. Those people don't really talk to me anymore.

One of the best ways I think I can show how much we are more concerned with the "I" than with others is Facebook. I've noticed that probably 98% of my friends on Facebook will comment on a picture that they are in and skip over ones they aren't in, even if they are located in the same album. I try not to do that, and think that I've succeeded in that endeavor. The only way to get peoples' attention to a picture they're not in is by putting it as your profile picture.

So that's the end of being concerned over "me" and how many times I use the word daily, especially in posts. I'm going to wrap up this 90 now.

The purpose of the challenge was to write once a day for 90 days to get you in the habit of writing and to make you a better writer. And I've gotten in the habit of writing daily, but I don't think I've improved as a writer. I think that maybe the first month was good, and after that I had some good days, but mainly mediocre days.

I think once I decided to start opening up about my break up and how I was dealing with things, this blog started to become more like a diary, but I wasn't sure how to get away from the diary feel. I knew that I didn't really have a consistent theme for this blog. I knew I wanted it to be my thoughts and interests, and I have many different ones.

I've noticed that I like starting my paragraphs with either "and" or "but," and if I'm not paying attention I'll do it two or three paragraphs in a row. I've noticed that I really like parallel structure. I've noticed that I've gotten away from the passive voice, something I've been struggling with for years. I've noticed that I now write shorter paragraphs in my short stories.

So maybe I've become a better writer in the fact that now I'm picking up more things about my writing that I hadn't before this blog, and know what I need to work on in the future.

Don't worry, dear reader. This blog will still exist. It'll probably go back to the way it was before the 90, with a weekly post. If you've stuck with me until the end, then I hope you enjoyed your journey.

Distant Dreamer (89/90)

I saw Inception today, that's why this is a later than usual post.

Most of the people I know who had seen Inception said it was a "mindf*ck" and so amazing. Some said they sat at home to understand it afterwords. Some said they had to see it a few times to understand what happened in the movie. Everyone said it was such a good movie. The previews for it looked good. I really wanted to see it.

I understood the movie as it was going on, for the most part. I didn't think it was a "mindf*ck" or anything like that. I think it was a good movie that had an interesting plot and intriguing visuals. I thought the acting was good. But did I struggle to understand it? No. Might I have if I hadn't had the ending revealed? Possibly, if I had gone to see it alone. But if I had had a chance to discuss it, I'm sure I would have arrived to the same conclusions.

Now I'm not saying don't go see it. Do go, by all means. I enjoyed the movie. I'm just saying that it didn't meet my expectations based on peoples' reactions. People compared it to The Matrix. It might be because I saw The Matrix when I was about 14, but I struggled to understand that more than Inception.

It seems like movies Ellen Page is in that have a lot of hype surrounding it don't deliver as much as I expect. For example, I heard that Juno was an amazing movie that I had to see, so I did. And it was good. Nothing extraordinary. Not a movie I'd go home and rave about. The same with Inception. Law Abiding Citizen made me think more than Inception did; however, Law Abiding Citizen made me think about morals, not about what was happening on the screen.

One reason for this could be because I've had this thought before, in its most basic sense. When I was younger I thought that my whole life was the dream of a giant and that I'd eventually wake up as a giant and relive my dream. Inception takes place in dreams, with some knowing about the dreams, some not.

Obviously my 7 year old self couldn't imagine the different themes within Inception, so those were interesting to explore within the movie. As I've written before, I dream a lot. Sometimes I put a lot of stock in my dreams, sometimes not. But it's weird to think that you can decide to go into someone's dreams, and that someone will invite you into them.

All in all, I would definitely recommend you see the movie. Just for the experience.

King of Pain (88/90)

I watched some movies tonight, that's why this is late.

I wish I could put what I'm thinking about down here, but I really can't. Not only are my thoughts moving too fast, but they're too complicated to easily explain. They also involve some people that I don't really feel like writing about. I'm just not sure what I want to write about tonight.

I have really bad joints. My knees crack every time I bend them past a 45 degree angle, and sometimes it's so loud everyone else turns to look. Every time I rotate my wrists, especially my left one, I hear it grinding on the bones. And I seem to quite easily sprain my ankles, even when bouncing around like normal. Right now I've got a sprained right ankle, and I'm not even sure how it happened this time.

I pull muscles a lot, and those hurt worse than all my joints, including the bit of pain I've got in my ankle right now. But then again, I've also pulled something in my shoulder/neck region in the past two hours, so that could explain some of it. I've broken my finger once, too. But none of these have really given me lasting pain. I'm not sure if that means I have a high pain tolerance, or if it means that I haven't been hurt a lot.

At least, hurt physically. It could be that because I've been hurt emotionally so many times that the physical pain seems minimal in comparison. Maybe I'm transferring the toughness and numbness I've learned to embrace from being emotionally hurt into my physical toughness.

Even now, I'm still hurting emotionally. I'm a mess, even if it doesn't really seem like it. I've just gotten much better at hiding it now than I did before. Just by looking at me, or talking to me, or reading my posts here you wouldn't know about it. Unless I decided to talk to you about it. And here's the thing: I don't want to talk to you about it, usually.

I think I'm hurting myself so that in the long run, I won't be able to be hurt again emotionally. No, I'm not doing anything. I'm just not giving in this time, as I have times before. Because I finally see how tough I can be. I finally see how much I can be hurt. I finally see that I don't deserve to be hurt like this anymore.

But it doesn't change the fact that I still want the cause of the pain.

Never Take Friendship Personal (87/90)

I went to Panera with some high school friends.

It was slightly awkward, I felt. I don't remember the last time we were all together like that. I think it may have been a year ago, and we didn't part on the best of terms. But that's not the point of tonight's blog. I hope that I can get through what I've been thinking about with enough material to make a complete post.

Everyone at the lakehouse was single, so I felt comfortable revealing something I've been thinking about for awhile. "Bros before hoes" or "chicks before dicks" is just a saying. I don't know of anyone who has successfully followed these sayings completely. Yes, people try to do so, but I really haven't seen it done.

I know I haven't been able to follow this. There have been times in all of my relationships when I could have stayed with my friends, and instead hung out with whoever I was dating at the time. I give up time that I could spend with my friends to be with the guy. I've done it at school, and I've done it at home. Over fall break I had Dave come visit for a day instead of making plans to see my friends at home.

But I know that if it came down to choosing between someone I was dating and my friends for something that had a greater impact on my life than watching a movie with one or the other, then I'd go with my friends. They've seen me at my worst and stuck around even when I was being silly with the boy. And I know others who have the same.

But sometimes that isn't enough. Sometimes we have to step back from the relationship and realize that we've been neglecting our friends. Sometimes time seems to have gone on so fast that we don't even realize it. Sometimes we get so caught up in love and lust that we get addicted to it, and because we can't get those feelings from our friends, we don't instantly think about them when trying to make plans.

So long as we include them in our conversations, and try and make an effort to talk to them when we're not going through a crisis, though, we can maintain these friendships. Even when they do something we don't agree on, and wouldn't do in the first place. We can only give so much advice and hint so many different ways until they realize what's going on. And depending on if they're dating a boy/girl or a man/woman can make it easier to maintain friendships.

I don't call the males my age men, because they still act like the boys they were in high school. They still have unrealistic expectations or immaturities to grow out of. Granted, I don't know many women my age either. We have more unrealistic expectations, though. I like to think that we're young women, or young ladies. We're not girls anymore. But they are boys still.

It may just be the ones that I know, but they really do only have a few things on their minds, and about 99% of them have sex as a big motivator on the brain. Not really getting to know the young lady, either. Basically if she's not horrible and looks good, he will try and sleep with her. I honestly can't wait until I can find one who doesn't want me solely for that. I hear that they turn into young men around age 25.

Four more years. I've already dated for four years. This seems a bit daunting.

Art in Me (86/90)

So I decided not to write three posts in one day. Here's yesterday's post before I go out.

I have a Tumblr. Only one person I know in real life knows what my Tumblr name is and what I post on it. I like it that way. My Tumblr is so much more than this, because that's where I post short, two sentence thoughts, or long drawn out stories. It's where I can spam about Harry Potter and the failures of Twilight. It's where I can read other peoples' problems and know that I'm not alone. And it's where I post uncensored thoughts that are begging to get out.

But this isn't a post about my Tumblr, and it's not supposed to make you go out and join, or to find me on there. I follow someone on Tumblr that I've never met before, but is constantly posting Harry Potter related tidbits. Not only that, but she's going to art school and is my age. Lately she's been putting up her original drawings of either Harry Potter fanart, or of her own creations. And they're beautiful.

I wish I could draw or sculpt or paint. I wish I had a talent in the visual arts as well. I do love writing, truly, but there are times when I just can't find the words to convey my emotions or what I'm seeing in my mind, and I just want to get it out. There are times when words aren't enough. There are times when I want to affect someone in an instant, from a glimpse of a piece of art, instead of having them take their time to understand the beauty of my creation.

I used to think I could train myself to draw better, if I just kept drawing. I got a pretty nice drawing book when I was younger, and there are some drawings in there. But mostly it was a sort of secret diary that didn't look like one. It was the place where I wrote acrostic poems and played MASH. The place where I did my own love calculator and hid the notes I wrote to my friends in class. Eventually I tried to draw in it, and it didn't go so well.

I took drawing classes in elementary and middle school. We had to take art, and that's where I learned how to make clay pots. I think there might be a few around the house still. But they were two attempts, and I didn't get to follow through with them. I know that if I tried to take a drawing class right now, I'd probably fail. Most of the people in them are art/animation majors, and here I am, not knowing how to accurately draw or sketch anything.

I've been thinking about trying to take the fashion illustration class, which could combine two of my interests. I think that it's open to everyone, even though I'd probably fail that as well. But it's something that might come in handy down the line. I'm thinking of eventually trying to help collaborate in a fashion line when I'm older. Trying to produce clothes to fit every body type, including mine. My own struggles to find clothes are what has inspired this desire.

But to do that, I need to be able to design what I have in my mind. I need to take some sort of drawing class, even if I do fail. Because even if I can't execute what they tell me to in the time required, I'm sure that I could pick up on certain things eventually that would help me down the line. I may not progress very quickly and to the standard that the college world has come to expect, but at least I'd be learning for my own purposes.

And maybe I could do well.

This Week the Trend (85/90)

Catch up post #2. I haven't decided if I'll get them all done tonight or not.

It seems like there are a lot of trends happening right now in the music and movie industries. I've thought about it before, but never had enough observations or examples to write a full-fledged post on. We got to talking about the music trends on the way back today, so that's why I decided to try to point them out.

Being so close to Chicago, we usually get the newest songs released on the radio, and a lot of our generation is interested in listening to R&B, hip-hop, and pop. It seems like lately in the hip-hop world that it's a good idea to collaborate with someone. Not just anyone, but with someone from the pop world. The hits that I hear hourly, sometimes twice or three times, are "Airplanes" by B.o.B. featuring Haley Williams from Paramore, "Love the Way You Lie" by Eminem featuring Rihanna, and earlier "Break Your Heart" by Taio Cruz featuring Ludacris.

I'm sure there are more, but these are the ones that are the forerunners for some of the other singles that are coming out. Enrique Iglesias just released a single where he collaborated with Pitbull. Most of these collaborations are with people you wouldn't really expect to get together and record something. Granted, Timbaland has been on a lot of peoples' tracks, but usually it's a small part. I guess he was the one who originally started the idea for this generation's collaborations trend.

Lately we've also been getting back to throwing your hands up in the air. "Dynamite" by Taio Cruz has people throwing their hands up in the air and saying "ayo." DJ Khaled sings about how every time he "goes up in a building everybody's hands go up and they stay there/ Up down up down up down" in "All I Do is Win." In "DJ Got Us Falling In Love" by Usher he sings about "Hands up, and suddenly we all got our hands up." I don't know why throwing hands up is suddenly coming back. We used to laugh at people who danced with their hands up only all the time. Maybe it's because of the fist pump popularized by Jersey Shore.

Those are just the songs. I've been noticing a growing trend in movies as well. It seems like about 90% of the things that are being released in theaters are either remakes or based on books. They've been talking about remaking a lot of movies lately; the Halloween movies, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, Fame, Alice in Wonderland, The Karate Kid, just from the last two years. The Last Airbender is a remake, as well.

There have been so many book to movie releases now: Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Eragon, The Lovely Bones, Dear John, Twilight, Ramona and Beezus, Angels and Demons, and Eat, Pray, Love, just to name a few from the past few years. There are a few that I don't mind seeing on the big screen; in fact, there are a few times when I'm interested in reading the book based on the trailer, and sometimes even the movie itself.

But the point of this is that it seems like Hollywood doesn't really seem to have a lot of new material to produce, and I'd like to hear about new movies coming out that have new ideas. It feels like at least once a month there is a movie that's either based on a book or a remake for the past year, at the very least. That's when I noticed the growing trend. But I guess we've finally produced so many movies that there's no new ideas.

As I was writing "Love the Way You Lie" and "Airplanes" came on the radio. I don't really have much to say about the musical trend there, because it seems like a lot of people are liking these collaborations. Personally, I like the idea because it brings in a whole new group of listeners. I like the way the rap sounds against the singing, and the two different voices when they overlap. I like mixing two different genres, especially when there are powerful lyrics, or music that you wouldn't normally associate with rap.

I could do with a little less throwing hands up, though.

Relax, Take it Easy (84/90)

I was at a lakehouse all weekend. I tried to write, but didn't end up finding time.

That's another thing that I want to put on my bucket list: owning a lakehouse. Not just owning one, but also owning a boat to go out on the lake with, and possibly a jet ski to go riding around on when I felt like it. I want to have an escape for a few days when I need it desperately. Anna's lakehouse has one TV and no phone. When you go up there, you're either on the lake, eating, or around the campfire, surrounded by people.

This weekend was exactly what I needed. I needed the escape from life's trivialities to get my head back on straight and let loose some of the restless energy I've had all summer from a lack of a job and, consequently, money. I needed to be with people who I trusted not only to keep what I told them to themselves, but also not to judge me for whatever I had on my mind.

It was the Disney Group I went with. We've done this every summer since we've met, meaning that this year we were in the same levels of schooling as when we first met. It's almost weird for us to think about being friends for four years, and going to this every year for a weekend to relax.

Not only that, but the fact that one weekend away can do so much to relax a person. Away from all the stressors of everyday life. Away from the family that expects everything from you. Away from technology that always keeps you connected to the outside world. Away from the addiction we have to know everything about everyone's every move. Away from anything required of you. Away for not even 72 hours.

And while I am sore, I am also relaxed and have had a chance to get a firmer grip on life. I've had some insights, not only through thinking of them while watching everyone go tubing, but also through the discussions we had. We didn't have a chance to have very long fireside chats, because the storms that were threatening daily moved in at night, getting everything wet. We managed one night before we had to go in, and not everyone was around for it.

Just taking a step back from things and going away on your own might be one of the best ways to gain perspective on your life. But that return to reality is one that's not the most enjoyable. After going at your own pace and doing whatever you felt, having to come back to a routine and follow the rules of society is my least favorite part.

Even though I'm sore from all that we did, I wish we could have stayed for longer. I enjoy my trips away from reality far too much.

Heart of Lilith (83/90)

I finally saw Toy Story 3 today.

I'm writing this earlier than usual, because I'm avoiding something. I'm avoiding writing in the story that I started last night. For the past few days I've seen a girl in my mind. I couldn't tell what age she was; I couldn't tell what her name was; the only things I could see were her dark brown hair and how she held herself. She looked, from the back, as if she had been broken and was barely holding on.

When I finally sat down to write her, I could see more aspects about her: her eyes, her name, and why she was broken. Lilith, with haunted gray eyes, was asking me to tell her story. And as I wrote more about her, I could see more of her in my mind emerging. She is no older than 25, but no younger than 20; she has olive colored skin that has been marred by bruises. Her swollen lip trembled as her story took shape in my mind and flowed through my fingers.

And then I knew what had happened to her, and I knew that last night I couldn't write it. So I extended her story, the set up for what was to come, as much as I could. I was already exhausted when I gave in and started writing for her, and I knew I couldn't deal with it last night. I also knew that I had to get through it today, otherwise it would bother me all weekend. With no access to my computer, and little free time anticipated, this needs to happen today.

But all day I've been doing things to avoid writing it, pushing it later and later, so I won't have to face her demon. So I don't have to make Lilith re-live it, and so I don't have to experience it. But when I turn inwardly, I can see her standing there, gray eyes swimming, waiting for me to write it out. She doesn't want to re-live it either, but we both know it has to be done.

This is the first time I've had a character in my head. Usually I have concepts when I want to write, or a story to tell. Usually as I'm writing my story, the characters slowly emerge, and don't hang around once I step away from the story. Usually I focus more on events than on details when writing. But Lilith is not typical. Lilith has started to take over my mind.

I hope that after I get through this, she can let me enjoy my weekend at the lake. Mainly since I won't have much alone time, and I'll be using that alone time to keep writing for this blog. I'll be surrounded by people that love me because they want to, and in nature, so hopefully it will inspire something great to come out.

But I guess now I don't have any other distractions, so I should start to tell Lilith's story.

Retro, Dance, Freak (82/90)

Finally saw Sweeny Todd today.

It seems like ever since I went through my pictures, I've had a thought of Dave at least once a day. Not only that, but since then it also seems like I've gone through intense bouts of anger that seem to come from nowhere. And I've had a character in my head who wants her story told, not just through words, but through dance.

Dancing has become inextricably linked to Dave now. I danced before I met him, as I've written about previously. But improving as a dancer in a public forum, and being surrounded by those who understand what makes up good dancing is something that I found around him.

I used to dance for myself. I used to sit in my room and see all these movements in my mind when certain songs came on. Eventually I got up and danced them out, and slowly but surely built choreography in my head. But, once again, I shared that experience with Dave. We choreographed something for a final project, but it didn't really come together in the end. Even so, that's another dancing memory I used to do alone and shared with him.

The connection we had when dancing is something I know other dances strive to find. That could be why I want to dance again. Not just in my basement. I want to record myself dancing something I've choreographed, even though I know it's not up to par. I want to choreograph a flash mob, and am actually in the process of trying this. I want that flash mob to happen. And I don't want the choreography we did to go to waste.

That's something that I don't think I could dance with anyone else, because it's a part of us. We both worked on and through it, working out the kinks I didn't see and adding bits of our hearts into it. But I'm not sure if I could dance it with Dave, either. There's too much of something that could be one sided, for all I know, that would get in the way.

Whatever it is, it's making me unsure of whether I want to return to Ballroom next year. I do love to dance, and that's the only outlet I have on campus to do so. There are some dances I'm absolutely in love with, like salsa, tango, and foxtrot, but the rest are some I wouldn't mind not exploring further. When I'm home I can get my fill of salsa dancing every Thursday night. And the rest I'm lucky to see on So You Think You Can Dance.

And I want to learn contemporary, and hip-hop, but there's nowhere to learn. There's groups to do; there are classes to take, and an extra curricular club for hip-hop, but that's about it. That's not what I want; I want someone who can look at me and tell me what I'm doing wrong and how to fix it. I want someone to help me fully interpret a piece of music, for myself. I don't want to worry about a grade or being surrounded by people who know much more than I.

I just want to be a better dancer, but I'm lacking the tools.

Anytime You Need a Friend (81/90)

Darn, I got home 12 minutes later than I wanted for this post.

The reason for my tardiness is because I was at Anna's house, jumping on her trampoline and sitting around a fire. It was the usual suspects: Anna, Krista, Chelsea, Brendan, Brandon, and myself. We've been dubbed "The Disney Group," and make a point to try and get together every time we're home. Usually there's Smash Bros. involved. Over the summers there's a lake house trip. We've been doing this for four years now.

The reason we're "The Disney Group" is because we all got to know each other in Disney. During my junior year, the top three jazz bands at Neuqua got to go to Walt Disney World to participate in a jazz clinic. They invite bands from around the country to come in, play with professionals, perform in a restaurant, and tour the grounds. Neuqua has made this a tradition to go every two years, I believe, and I was lucky enough to try out for jazz that year.

I had already known Brendan through mutual friends of ours, and we were pretty close before this. I knew Krista from marching band, and Brandon from PJ. I was finally in a band where I felt appreciated. Not only was I in one of the top three bands, but I was also first tenor. Which meant that I got a lot of the solos written in my part, and I couldn't switch around. My band director was my favorite, and I was happy every jazz practice.

Chelsea was in my section, and Anna was on piano. When it came time for room sign ups, I found out there were only 7 girls going. Since I knew Krista and got along with her, I decided to room with her. Chelsea, being the only freshman at the time, didn't have anyone to room with and asked to join us. So we were the room of three girls. I didn't know the other girls very well; they were in different bands through school or from choir.

I was nervous to go to Disney, not only because I would have a solo, but also because there weren't too many people I'd know. But on the bus ride to the airport that President's Day weekend, Krista, Chelsea, Brendan, and I started talking a lot. I got to know them, and genuinely liked them. My nerves were leaving me.

I stuck around Krista, Chelsea, and Brendan. I had a crush on Nick, who was also on the trip and friends with Brendan. I met Anna through the girls Nick was friends with, and Anna slowly disengaged herself from that group and toured the parks with us. Brandon, being one of Brendan's best friends, also walked with us. I got to know them all a lot better and quicker than I would have in jazz practices.

That weekend is still one of my favorite weekends of my life, not just of high school. I met a great group of friends and got a break from the drama that was going on at home. I had an escape from the mess with PJ, and I didn't have to deal with Zack at the time. All I had to worry about was getting everywhere on time, and not screwing up my solo. And I met an amazing group of people.

We all have different personalities. Brandon never misses an opportunity to poke fun at anyone, especially Anna. Brendan might be one of the sweetest guys I've ever met. Chelsea, being the youngest, is the most naive, but brings a freshness to the group. Krista is calm, cool, and collected. Anna carries herself with poise and has a thirst to live. And there's me, the quiet observer who tries to throw her two cents in when she thinks it's relevant.

Even though we really don't talk during the school year, since we're all in different places in our lives and schools, I know that every summer nothing will have changed. Sure, we'll have new stories to tell each other, new events in our lives to catch up on, but in the end all we really want to do is sit around a fire, roast some marshmallows, and enjoy each others' company.

And then kill each other in Smash Bros.

Sweet Child O' Mine (80/90)

I'm home! No more beach!

And, once again, I'm staring at the screen with nothing floating through my mind to write about. Although I did just hear that there is now a video game out for "The Bachelor." That's not really much to write about, except that I think it's a ridiculous idea. If you're interested, you can read up on it here. From here it looks like "The Sims" with more recognizable names, and not as much fun.

I realized something this vacation, though. I'm not as bad with kids as I thought I was. At least, not with younger ones. I found myself actually playing with my nephew, instead of ignoring him or pretending to be engrossed in something else. It might be because he's an adorable child, or it could be because he makes noises that almost sound like he's talking, but you don't really have to pretend to be interested in what he says.

Here's the thing: I normally don't like kids. I don't want to be in their presence for hours on end. I think they're adorable, yes. But I just don't see the appeal of always having one around. Newborns need constant attention, and cry and smell a lot. I hear they don't sleep too well either. Then you hit one year, like my nephew, and they start teething, so there's not a lot of sleep with that.

After that, they start talking. And about mundane things, like what color their shirt is or something. I'm not sure, I try not to be around kids a lot. After that, there's potty training and school. While you do get a variety of stories from them when they get into school, it's still simple things about how recess was canceled because of the rain so they stayed inside and played Heads Up Seven Up all period.

I think about middle school is when I could deal with them, possibly. But that's when the hormones start to kick in. High school is even worse, the hormones are on alert all the time. But that's about the time when you can have intelligent conversations with them, so it's not too bad. And then they're not kids anymore.

Because of all those reasons, I've opted not to try to be a teacher. I could probably only deal with teaching seniors, because anything younger would probably be too much for my patience to handle 9 months of the year. And, to extend it, I used these reasons when I was thinking about if in the distant future I want to have kids.

I go back and forth on it a lot. Before, my main motivation to have children was so I could name them. I should probably have a better reason to have a kid then that. I just don't think that I could deal with kids. People say that it's different once you have your own, but I'm not too sure if I believe it.

But when I was watching my nephew this weekend, I could deal with him. It could be because he's at that adorable stage where he doesn't really do anything. Or it could be because he can't talk yet, so that was someone I didn't have to listen to this weekend. Maybe it's because he's my nephew, though. Which could mean that if I can deal with a relative's child, then maybe they're right.

Maybe I will have kids, then.

Pictures of You (79/90)

We went shopping today.

I'm tired. I've either been in a car or walking around all day. It seems like this whole vacation has been about everyone else, and what I've wanted to do hasn't been taken into account. I really don't have much going on in my brain tonight, though. We'll see what happens with this post. I don't really have any reserve ideas left.

Nothing's really coming to mind though, and I've been sitting here for about five minutes while staring at my screen. I spent most of my day catching up with my half-sisters, so there hasn't been any really stimulating conversation, just the goings-on of our lives. And I've been with the rest of my family for the rest of the time, so there's really nothing new there either.

One of my sisters wanted to try to model for this clothing store called Torrid. There's one back home, and both she and my dad wanted me to go for it as well. There were a few things wrong with that idea, though. One, I wasn't really dressed for the part. And two, I can't really fit into anything in the store. The smallest sizes in there are too big on me.

I'm not sure if my sister realized that, or even thought about it, but I deflected her by saying that I wasn't prepared and there wasn't one at school. In reality, though, I wouldn't be able to fit into whatever I was supposed to be modeling. Not to gloat or anything like that, but it makes no sense for me to try to enter this contest when the models and I clearly have two different body types.

Not that I wouldn't like to model eventually. I'd much like to do that, if I had the chance. But with school and not having a car, it makes it hard to try and pursue that idea. Another thing is that my body is about three different sizes, depending on what part we're talking about. My chest is plus-sized, my waist is normal, and my bottom half is average. I could possibly do commercial work, if I could find a catalog to take me in.

But I'm thinking of pursuing this idea next summer, if I get a chance. Depending on where I do my internship, I may be close to some companies who need a spare. And once I start making some money at my job this school year, I'll probably head into a portrait studio and get some head shots done. At the very least, I'll have them for myself, if I don't pass them out.

But I'd really like it if I could get booked. It's something I've wanted for at least four years.

Why Worry (78/90)

Traveled, sat at the beach some more, and saw some family.

I've had a lot of time to think today, since I've done nothing with my time. But it was a lot of passing thoughts, none of which I could really write a complete entry on. And I feel compelled to write a nice entry tonight, since last night's really wasn't up to par.

I've noticed something before, but never really thought about why I do it. I'm someone who always needs a situation to worry about, no matter how trivial it actually is. I can take a simple situation and blow it out of proportion just from thinking about it too much. And a good part of the time, whatever I'm thinking about really isn't something that deserves that much thought.

I think I just need to have something to think about. I'm not content unless I have something to worry about. I worried about what was going to happen over the summer in regards to college relationships months before the summer holidays, and about seemingly innocent sentences I've heard around my house. I'm a worrier, I know, but sometimes it's a bit ridiculous.

This vacation hasn't been any different. In fact, it's one thing about myself that I haven't attempted to change. It's something that keeps me sane and gives me something to do with my downtime. It's something that I can bring up in conversation with my friends when it seems like we've run out of things to talk about. It's something that will stick with me until I find something else to worry about.

I don't really mind it, in the long run. That's probably why I haven't tried to improve on it. But it's funny to think about, since that's all I've been doing. I've had this single situation to worry about since the end of May, and it seems like I'll have to make a concrete decision and follow through with it in about a month. I'm not sure if I want to let go of the worry yet, because I haven't found something else to replace it with.

I've got some smaller situations that have been at the back of my mind, but they really don't have much of an impact on my life as much as the situation does. So I can't cycle them to the front of my mind as the major situation I have to deal with, worry about, and stress over. I'm not sure what I'll do once this thing comes to a head, because I haven't got a clue what my new worry's going to be. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I'll be able to have a few days without any worries, and learn how to just live without being scared of consequences.

More than likely I'll end up finding something to worry about from that situation, though.

Ocean Avenue (77/90)

I spent the whole day at the beach.

The beach isn't really for me. I mean, I like the sand, and the ocean. That stuff is cool. But laying there for hours on end, doing absolutely nothing, isn't my cup of tea. Sure, I brought things to do. But it seems like after awhile you either get too hot or too cold, and have to adjust to bring yourself back to a more comfortable temperature. And then you see everyone else with their perfect bodies, trying to get the perfect tan, and you wonder what else there is to do at the beach.

I was going to write about how frustrating it is being at the beach, surrounded by the perfect bodies and not having one for yourself. I was going to bitch and moan about how having that perfect beach body seems to be a requirement for everyone in my age group when they go to the beach. I was going to start hating on myself once again.

But now I don't want to. Probably because I've been thinking about this since we first set out from the house, about 12 hours ago. And I was next going to write about how I prefer to be cold rather than hot, because I just can't deal with heat very well. And there's only so much you can take off when you're hot; you can usually put more on then take off. But I realized that there's not much else you can say on that topic.

I thought being at the beach would inspire me to write something. But so far all it's done is make me feel worthless. I mean, it's beautiful to look at, but the picture is marred when you see all the people on it. The power behind the waves is inspiring, but nothing has come from watching them break onto each other. The people on the beach were off in their own worlds, not talking to anyone who wasn't in their original group. Most of the females were trying to tan; a lot of the guys were smoking. The kids were playing in the sand or walking into the waves.

I didn't want to be on the beach these past few days. I almost feel like it's let me down. So has this post. I apologize.

Your Urge (76/90)

We spent about three hours at the beach today. I traveled for about five hours. I haven't done much but sleep and be lazy.

When we got to the beach, I didn't know what to do. I had slept for the ride down, so I couldn't sleep any more. I had a book I tried to read last summer, but my parents kept interrupting me with mundane beach conversation. So I laid on a towel on the beach and plugged my iPod in. I was going to try to write, but nothing was coming out. I just laid down and thought about the music I was listening to.

Usually before I go somewhere or about halfway through the month I try to get a new CD from iTunes. Last night I bought Colbie Caillait's album, Breakthrough. Most of her songs were about the love that she was struggling to be with, or about the break up that was inevitable or just passed. And I just listened to those. I paid attention to the lyrics, but they didn't really mean anything to me.

And then tonight, while my family was huddled around the TV as usual, I started to erase some pictures on my camera, since we're supposed to be taking pictures. I only deleted pictures that were before Spring semester, but imagine my surprise when I realized that a lot of them had Dave in them. And then, even more surprising was the sadness that seemed to settle over me.

So to counter it, I started a conversation with one of my friends who is in a similar situation as I am. Distract myself from one potential problem with another one that was coming to a head sooner rather than later, as I previously expected. And that was the time that I wanted to write. I didn't realize it until now. I tried to talk to people to distract myself from the pull I was feeling to write.

I haven't felt the urge to write for awhile. I did have that poem, but it really was just about fireworks. I had been throwing around ideas about seeing fireworks in my head the week up to that poem. But before that, I can't remember. Writing just to get everything out, not because I have to with this, or because I should with my seven deadly sins idea.

But it's left me now. Now, I'm not sure where this post is going, and whether it's ending soon. This might just be a meaningless post, because I've already written something today on little sleep, and I'm trying to do it again. But I have learned my lesson, not to write when I'm tired. Usually it comes out the way I speak when I'm tired.

Slightly amusing, but overall a waste.

Be Safe (75/90)

The closer I get to the end of my 90 the more often it seems I have to make up entries.

I'm writing this from the sky. Hand-writing this. It's been awhile since I've had to write anything by hand, and you can tell. My writing is worse than usual. I'm writing from a plane because our flight left at 8 this morning, and I went swing dancing last night. And the reason it's being done about two hours before next post is because I've been without Internet access all day.

There are times when I don't enjoy flying. today is one of them. Mainly because I couldn't fall asleep last night and have a full day ahead of me. I also hate the way my ears pop, and not having space to stretch out. In fact, about the only good thing in flying is getting there sooner.

We took a taxi to get us to the airport. $50. Plus place tickets for who knows how much. I think in the end the cost of gas would equal it out. And then I could sleep and we wouldn't have to worry about leaving on time or going through security. All we'd have to deal with would be a 12 hour ride. Not too bad. Then again, I've never driven for longer than an hour at a time.

The thing that bugs me most, though, is the amount of security. Yes, I know it's for my own safety and I am grateful for it. It would be an interesting way to go out, but I'd prefer to live a little longer. But taking off shoes, belts, and jewelry can be a bit of a hassle. So can taking out your laptop.

I would normally avoid all this if I could, but some things I need. Like shoes. Everyone needs those. And there is never a time when I don't need a belt, thanks to my body type. I don't wear jewelry often. And I'm not leaving my laptop at home, or putting it in my suitcase, even if I don't use it. So I deal with all of it.

At least this time I got smart about it. I untied my shoes quickly, got my belt off without being reminded, and took out my laptop charger. The last time we traveled they had to search my gab because they couldn't tell what it was.

We've been flying for what seems like at least an hour and above the clouds now. The seatbelt sign hasn't been turned off yet, we're hitting a bit of turbulence, and I'm sleepy. It's not a big traveling weekend; I'm sure we could've driven easily. I'd like to sleep, but it's too loud. And I have nothing to entertain me, because once we land we're going to the beach and I'd like to have a charged iPod when we get there.

Maybe I'll do my mom's sudoku.