I've started staying with my boyfriend's family when I go through town. It's been pretty nice because I like his family and of course I love seeing him and spending time with him. Of course, the cuddles at night don't hurt either.
Of course, I came to my parents for Thanksgiving, but I didn't want to do all the driving in one go. On Wednesday I drove halfway and stayed the night. My boyfriend had to work late on Wednesday night, so I just crawled into bed when I normally did and managed to fall asleep before he finished. He tried to call me as usual, but I was so out that I didn't even know that my phone went off. So of course he wakes me up when he gets back, nearly midnight. First thing that happens is that he kisses me. While it wasn't the most restful night, I think that was due to the fact that we were on an air mattress.
I then go have breakfast with my sister and drive to see my parents. Thanksgiving day was lovely, quiet, and full of food. This Black Friday is equally quiet. I love it.
For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God.
-- 1 Peter 1:23
Friday
I wonder if going back home every weekend makes me miss home even more. Even though I'm not really sure what 'home' is anymore. I'm from so many places and I miss so many things that I'm just not sure. I've been going back to one home for quite a few weekends, often multiple in a row, and I'm somewhat happy there. I drag my stays out so late that when I get back to college, I'm about ready to just change into pj's and go to bed.
So I don't know if it's quite healthy for me. I miss home (whatever it may be) to the point that I feel upset when I miss it too much. I want to go back this weekend, but I know I can't. I need to be able to be apart from my home and the things that I miss.
I used to be okay with being away from home. For most of this semester I've been fine. It wasn't until I kept going back that I've been missing these things. When I was younger, the cure was most certainly to go back. But I think I just have to be away. I know that a lot of what I'm missing is a certain someone. I like to think that maybe next year I won't be so home sick. Maybe next year he'll be with me.
I miss my parents, and with Thanksgiving not too far away, I'm getting anxious. I just think about how I have to make it through one more week (ish) and then I'll be there. I don't look forward to the drive, but I know that once I get there it'll be nice.
Never mind the fact that I'm sick and just want to cuddle up and sleep most of my days. There are some things that I just can't do. As much as I try to call where I am now home, it doesn't feel like it. I don't quite like the people anymore, I'm not particularly interested in going out and meeting more. I know I'm ready for college, but I feel like such a shut in. I know I am. It's a bit of a miracle if people see me outside of meal times.
I feel like I'm beginning to fall apart at the seams. I know I can keep myself together, and I've been doing a fabulous job, but I'm afraid that something's going to happen and make me spiral down into a lovely dead end. Not literally, of course. I have far too much keeping me alive.
I've been typing away at my NaNo novel. About 23,000 words so far. I should be halfway before the day is over.
Maybe I'll summarize what happened in my missing months at a later date.
Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you.
-- Proverbs 2:11
So I don't know if it's quite healthy for me. I miss home (whatever it may be) to the point that I feel upset when I miss it too much. I want to go back this weekend, but I know I can't. I need to be able to be apart from my home and the things that I miss.
I used to be okay with being away from home. For most of this semester I've been fine. It wasn't until I kept going back that I've been missing these things. When I was younger, the cure was most certainly to go back. But I think I just have to be away. I know that a lot of what I'm missing is a certain someone. I like to think that maybe next year I won't be so home sick. Maybe next year he'll be with me.
I miss my parents, and with Thanksgiving not too far away, I'm getting anxious. I just think about how I have to make it through one more week (ish) and then I'll be there. I don't look forward to the drive, but I know that once I get there it'll be nice.
Never mind the fact that I'm sick and just want to cuddle up and sleep most of my days. There are some things that I just can't do. As much as I try to call where I am now home, it doesn't feel like it. I don't quite like the people anymore, I'm not particularly interested in going out and meeting more. I know I'm ready for college, but I feel like such a shut in. I know I am. It's a bit of a miracle if people see me outside of meal times.
I feel like I'm beginning to fall apart at the seams. I know I can keep myself together, and I've been doing a fabulous job, but I'm afraid that something's going to happen and make me spiral down into a lovely dead end. Not literally, of course. I have far too much keeping me alive.
I've been typing away at my NaNo novel. About 23,000 words so far. I should be halfway before the day is over.
Maybe I'll summarize what happened in my missing months at a later date.
Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you.
-- Proverbs 2:11
Tuesday
So, today's election day and I haven't posted in a really long time.
But I'm not posting about the election.
Instead I'm procrastinating on hw and NaNo (about 14k right now) and writing about something that came into my head a little bit earlier.
I got this ring a little while ago- sometime early in the semester. It's a very pretty ring, with amethyst and a silver-plated band. I'm quite fond of it, I wear it every day. I wore it when it was far too big and had to have three plastic resizers, and I wear it now even though the copper turns my finger kinda green. I was worried about being questioned about it when I went to see family, but I reflected on the meaning this ring has to me.
It was given to me with conflicting intentions. The first intention was to sway me into considering the person who gave it to me as something more. However, he couldn't say those words and gave it as a sense of apology for everything that went wrong. I knew that he wasn't giving up. I wore it anyway, even though I had decided against him.
Things went downhill fast and I held onto the ring with everything I could. I even bought a reciprocating ring for this guy and gave it to him.
I have taken the ring that I wear as a sign of friendship and togetherness. It's a sign that he will be faithful to me, that he loves me, that he cares. I wear it because it reminds me that I'm not alone. I wear it on my ring finger because I know that the love of a man- this one or another- will hold me close. I will always have someone to love me. Faith that things will work. Fidelity through and through. We both may have issues with that, but we can hopefully survive together.
I gave him a ring in the hopes that he would think some of the same thoughts. I gave it with the thought of letting him know I'll be by his side forever, in whatever position that may be. He wears it on the ring finger because it fits nowhere else. It's my faith and hopes that he wears with that ring.
So now we're together, for about a week. We struggle through a distance that prevents us from seeing each other every day, but we have the hopes of a weekend to bring us together. We have to fight through the loneliness and hope that when we get to see each other like old times, it'll make us stronger.
Some days I hope that I get to experience falling asleep with his arms wrapped around me more regularly. I hope for many things for us. We started as friends and it slowly became apparent that we needed to be together as a true romantic couple. Nothing has changed except for titles. We still act much the same, and feelings haven't changed too much (except I might be a bit more willing to feel them). It's odd how these things have changed, and for once I think I'm happy with a choice I've made.
"'If you can'?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." — Mark 9:23
But I'm not posting about the election.
Instead I'm procrastinating on hw and NaNo (about 14k right now) and writing about something that came into my head a little bit earlier.
I got this ring a little while ago- sometime early in the semester. It's a very pretty ring, with amethyst and a silver-plated band. I'm quite fond of it, I wear it every day. I wore it when it was far too big and had to have three plastic resizers, and I wear it now even though the copper turns my finger kinda green. I was worried about being questioned about it when I went to see family, but I reflected on the meaning this ring has to me.
It was given to me with conflicting intentions. The first intention was to sway me into considering the person who gave it to me as something more. However, he couldn't say those words and gave it as a sense of apology for everything that went wrong. I knew that he wasn't giving up. I wore it anyway, even though I had decided against him.
Things went downhill fast and I held onto the ring with everything I could. I even bought a reciprocating ring for this guy and gave it to him.
I have taken the ring that I wear as a sign of friendship and togetherness. It's a sign that he will be faithful to me, that he loves me, that he cares. I wear it because it reminds me that I'm not alone. I wear it on my ring finger because I know that the love of a man- this one or another- will hold me close. I will always have someone to love me. Faith that things will work. Fidelity through and through. We both may have issues with that, but we can hopefully survive together.
I gave him a ring in the hopes that he would think some of the same thoughts. I gave it with the thought of letting him know I'll be by his side forever, in whatever position that may be. He wears it on the ring finger because it fits nowhere else. It's my faith and hopes that he wears with that ring.
So now we're together, for about a week. We struggle through a distance that prevents us from seeing each other every day, but we have the hopes of a weekend to bring us together. We have to fight through the loneliness and hope that when we get to see each other like old times, it'll make us stronger.
Some days I hope that I get to experience falling asleep with his arms wrapped around me more regularly. I hope for many things for us. We started as friends and it slowly became apparent that we needed to be together as a true romantic couple. Nothing has changed except for titles. We still act much the same, and feelings haven't changed too much (except I might be a bit more willing to feel them). It's odd how these things have changed, and for once I think I'm happy with a choice I've made.
"'If you can'?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." — Mark 9:23
Thursday
So, I'm in college now. It's been on heck of a ride already.
I'm in some good classes. All of them I should be able to pass. Some of them I don't like so much, but that's okay. I should be able to get through this semester without losing my mind completely. I've already started doing so, to be honest. I had a very lovely emotional/mental break down this past weekend and it was not very good.
But I've met some fabulous people and we've been named "the herd" due to our rather large size. No joke, we encompass a good chunk of people. A few are more 'central' than others, but that's just how it goes.
I was going to have an awesome post about stuff in general, but I guess it's all beginning to blend together for me. I'm enjoying dorm life for the most part. Nothing too bad happening besides pure craziness in college life. So yeah. Life.
Also the crazy 3:1 guy:girl ratio hit me hard and I practically have a boy friend. So yeah. Life.
I'm staying at college for the weekend and it's gonna be tough because next to no one is going to be here with me. Oh well.
No verse today because college wi-fi can be a bit eccentric and slow. I am afraid to try opening my e-mail and finding a verse. So I love all of you and hope a glorious Labor Day weekend is in store!
I'm in some good classes. All of them I should be able to pass. Some of them I don't like so much, but that's okay. I should be able to get through this semester without losing my mind completely. I've already started doing so, to be honest. I had a very lovely emotional/mental break down this past weekend and it was not very good.
But I've met some fabulous people and we've been named "the herd" due to our rather large size. No joke, we encompass a good chunk of people. A few are more 'central' than others, but that's just how it goes.
I was going to have an awesome post about stuff in general, but I guess it's all beginning to blend together for me. I'm enjoying dorm life for the most part. Nothing too bad happening besides pure craziness in college life. So yeah. Life.
Also the crazy 3:1 guy:girl ratio hit me hard and I practically have a boy friend. So yeah. Life.
I'm staying at college for the weekend and it's gonna be tough because next to no one is going to be here with me. Oh well.
No verse today because college wi-fi can be a bit eccentric and slow. I am afraid to try opening my e-mail and finding a verse. So I love all of you and hope a glorious Labor Day weekend is in store!
Wednesday
This is just a small thing that I noticed earlier that I really wanted to remember, so I'm posting it here. On my birthday (eeek! I'm 18 now!) a very close guy friend of mine gave me roses. They went through some hell, but managed to make it to my house. They were kinda tenuously holding on to life when I got them into a vase, but once they had their water they start to bloom really nicely. The other day I was sitting and sewing and I could smell the roses. For some reason it was really uplifting, doing something I love and then being reminded of a wonderful event just a few days ago.
I had a pretty good birthday, and I truly loved spending it with the people that I love. It was a fun day over all. I'd go into it, but there's not much I really want to relay.
Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may
become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a
crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in
the universe.
-- Philippians 2:14-15
I had a pretty good birthday, and I truly loved spending it with the people that I love. It was a fun day over all. I'd go into it, but there's not much I really want to relay.
Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may
become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a
crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in
the universe.
-- Philippians 2:14-15
Friday
So earlier, I was watching some national news report today. They, of course, had a bit about the recent CO shooting. The whole bit with Holmes' psychiatrist. You know what bothered me? She had a chilling specialty. Oh no, not just any specialty a chilling specialty in schizophrenia. I'm sorry, but I find that horribly offensive. Why is a specialty in schizophrenia any different than one in mood disorders, bi polar, anorexia, drug addiction, Alzheimer's or any other? Is society as a whole that scared of schizophrenia? What if he was bi polar? What if he was actually anti social (in the clinical sense)? Would we still be saying she had a chilling specialty? By saying that, you've created and reinforced the stigma of schizophrenia. Does anyone personally know someone with the disease? I do. I might even know two.
By calling attention to her specialty, it's drawing negative feelings and hundreds of thousands of people saying "I knew it" when they really didn't. I'm not surprised he has a mental disorder or if he was simply getting help. But what if he wasn't schizophrenic? What if it was just a coincidence? Why does it matter what she specialized in? By calling attention to her specialty, you begin to label all schizophrenics and murderers. But that is far from true. That is so far from true it's offensive. Is every Muslim a terrorist? No. So why does it matter that she specialized in schizophrenia? I'm sure there are thousands of psychiatrists that do.
There are also millions of people getting treatment for mental illnesses. Does that mean they're all going to become mass murderers? Are they suddenly criminals because they aren't as sane as the rest of us? Of course that's down right absurd. So why does it matter what she specialized in? Why do you have to make it such a big deal that she even did that? Is the reason for the report to continually paint Holmes as the bad guy, even though we know what he did was down right despicable? Or are we continually painting him as the bad guy and adding a mental illness, something completely out of his control, as proof?
Personally I find the specialization noble. It's absolutely terrifying living with schizophrenia when you have it yourself. I don't even have it, but I've been witness. To find a treatment. To find a cause. To find a cure. All of that is so noble. I want my friends and family and strangers I've never met to live a completely normal life free from the grips of the disease.
So I'm sorry, but one single word is terribly offensive. Maybe if the media didn't subconsciously plant the stigma of mental illnesses (especially schizophrenia) maybe people would be more open and more willing to get help. I understand why people target the disease. Depending on the type of schizophrenia, you are suspicious of everyone and everything. You see things. You hear things. You slowly go insane because you don't know whats real. Yes, violence can stem from the confusion and possible rage. But having a mental illness just isn't socially acceptable, it seems. If you have something wrong with you, you are liable to be teased and pushed over the edge. Do this to someone with a mental illness and the consequences can be dire.
Holmes was the right age to show symptoms of schizophrenia in the traditional sense. He had triggers to begin the disease, as well as triggers to make him snap and become a killer. Would he have become a killer without the disease? That's hard to say or judge. The point is, he is not his disease. He is not a killer because something is wrong with his brain. He was seeing someone that could help him. I am also assuming that he was going to this particular psychiatrist because he is schizophrenic. But like I pointed out before, it could be coincidence.
I just wish news could report straight facts. No fancy words. She was a psychiatrist that specialized in schizophrenia. That is a fact. Do you know how I feel about that? She is a person doing good for the world. Of course, why do I need to know what she's specializing in? She's a psychiatrist that was helping Holmes. At least he was getting help. He was doing something that so many people need to do but are too afraid to. She has a chilling specialty? No. She doesn't. She had a specialty in a disease we don't understand. She is doing something to help people and the media is only soiling the idea of schizophrenics as real people. Is my dad any less of a good person just because he is a paranoid schizophrenic that's afraid to take his medicine because it might be poison? Is his quiet, god-loving, never-hurt-a-fly demeanor undone because he has something going on in his head he can't control? Is his love any different? Or is he simply a 62 year old killer in disguise? If he is, it's news to me.
In the end, choose your words a bit more carefully next time news. Maybe you should stick to what's true and leave the adjectives to the audience. I can judge for myself if her specialization is chilling or not.
By calling attention to her specialty, it's drawing negative feelings and hundreds of thousands of people saying "I knew it" when they really didn't. I'm not surprised he has a mental disorder or if he was simply getting help. But what if he wasn't schizophrenic? What if it was just a coincidence? Why does it matter what she specialized in? By calling attention to her specialty, you begin to label all schizophrenics and murderers. But that is far from true. That is so far from true it's offensive. Is every Muslim a terrorist? No. So why does it matter that she specialized in schizophrenia? I'm sure there are thousands of psychiatrists that do.
There are also millions of people getting treatment for mental illnesses. Does that mean they're all going to become mass murderers? Are they suddenly criminals because they aren't as sane as the rest of us? Of course that's down right absurd. So why does it matter what she specialized in? Why do you have to make it such a big deal that she even did that? Is the reason for the report to continually paint Holmes as the bad guy, even though we know what he did was down right despicable? Or are we continually painting him as the bad guy and adding a mental illness, something completely out of his control, as proof?
Personally I find the specialization noble. It's absolutely terrifying living with schizophrenia when you have it yourself. I don't even have it, but I've been witness. To find a treatment. To find a cause. To find a cure. All of that is so noble. I want my friends and family and strangers I've never met to live a completely normal life free from the grips of the disease.
So I'm sorry, but one single word is terribly offensive. Maybe if the media didn't subconsciously plant the stigma of mental illnesses (especially schizophrenia) maybe people would be more open and more willing to get help. I understand why people target the disease. Depending on the type of schizophrenia, you are suspicious of everyone and everything. You see things. You hear things. You slowly go insane because you don't know whats real. Yes, violence can stem from the confusion and possible rage. But having a mental illness just isn't socially acceptable, it seems. If you have something wrong with you, you are liable to be teased and pushed over the edge. Do this to someone with a mental illness and the consequences can be dire.
Holmes was the right age to show symptoms of schizophrenia in the traditional sense. He had triggers to begin the disease, as well as triggers to make him snap and become a killer. Would he have become a killer without the disease? That's hard to say or judge. The point is, he is not his disease. He is not a killer because something is wrong with his brain. He was seeing someone that could help him. I am also assuming that he was going to this particular psychiatrist because he is schizophrenic. But like I pointed out before, it could be coincidence.
I just wish news could report straight facts. No fancy words. She was a psychiatrist that specialized in schizophrenia. That is a fact. Do you know how I feel about that? She is a person doing good for the world. Of course, why do I need to know what she's specializing in? She's a psychiatrist that was helping Holmes. At least he was getting help. He was doing something that so many people need to do but are too afraid to. She has a chilling specialty? No. She doesn't. She had a specialty in a disease we don't understand. She is doing something to help people and the media is only soiling the idea of schizophrenics as real people. Is my dad any less of a good person just because he is a paranoid schizophrenic that's afraid to take his medicine because it might be poison? Is his quiet, god-loving, never-hurt-a-fly demeanor undone because he has something going on in his head he can't control? Is his love any different? Or is he simply a 62 year old killer in disguise? If he is, it's news to me.
In the end, choose your words a bit more carefully next time news. Maybe you should stick to what's true and leave the adjectives to the audience. I can judge for myself if her specialization is chilling or not.
Monday
I love going barefoot and that's no secret to anyone that's known me for more than three days. In fact, I love going barefoot so much that it's earned me the nickname "River" among my friends. (River Tam, from Firefly for those of you that might get the reference).
I got bored earlier and started looking at wedding related stuff (okay, so I was watching TLC and I got kinda inspired). That turned into realizing that I will probably walk down the aisle barefoot. Of course, I had to look at laws regarding barefootness.. and to my surprise, it is legal to drive barefoot (YES) and entering public places barefoot is totally legal too. So you know what I'm going to do with much more frequency?
Leave the house.
But in all seriousness, I do want to go out barefoot a little more often. I think it would be fun.
I also don't understand why it's so socially unacceptable to be barefoot. I love the feel of the earth on my soles and the construct of shoes just feels unnatural. Maybe I'm a slight hippie at heart, but I hate shoes. I can barely stand them in the summer when all I wear are flipflops and flats... now imagine winter when I have to wear socks and actual shoes on top of that! Needless to say, I mourn very heavily the first week of truly cold weather.
I wish that it was safer to go around cities and such barefoot. I mean, there's the danger of glass and other sharp objects which, if you are careful, you can avoid. I would much rather like to roam around freely and not have to worry about. I understand that feet can get dirty (I'm so guilty of coming home with black feet), but that can hardly be avoided. It's unlikely though, that actual diseases are contracted through the feet. Half the problem with walking around barefoot is people go and put wet feet into closed toed shoes!
Another thing about shoes. Mine almost always smell because my feet sweat. It's an unfortunate fact of life, and I know I'm not alone. That's why more often than not, I am barefoot in the summer. I simply despise shoes. However, flats are about the next best thing if I have to conform. I go through them like crazy because I practically destroy them with how I walk/run/stand and so on. I was made to be barefoot.
I think it's easier on my joints if I do everything barefoot. Sure I'm extremely short, but I can manage on tip toes. Not a huge deal, all in all.
Maybe the only shoes I like to wear (if only for a short time) are high heels. It's mostly because they make me feel tall, confident, and depending on the heel... kinda sexy. But that's usually not for too long. I abandon heels ASAP.
So, my consensus? MORE BARE FEET! I am going to strive to be barefoot as often as possible. Obviously in my profession and studies, I won't be able to do that for fear of actually losing my feet... Chemistry deals with some fantastically dangerous stuff. But I'm going to try and throw off the social construct. Within reason, of course. I don't think I'm about to go on a date barefoot any time soon...
He must become greater; I must become less.
-- John 3:30
I got bored earlier and started looking at wedding related stuff (okay, so I was watching TLC and I got kinda inspired). That turned into realizing that I will probably walk down the aisle barefoot. Of course, I had to look at laws regarding barefootness.. and to my surprise, it is legal to drive barefoot (YES) and entering public places barefoot is totally legal too. So you know what I'm going to do with much more frequency?
Leave the house.
But in all seriousness, I do want to go out barefoot a little more often. I think it would be fun.
I also don't understand why it's so socially unacceptable to be barefoot. I love the feel of the earth on my soles and the construct of shoes just feels unnatural. Maybe I'm a slight hippie at heart, but I hate shoes. I can barely stand them in the summer when all I wear are flipflops and flats... now imagine winter when I have to wear socks and actual shoes on top of that! Needless to say, I mourn very heavily the first week of truly cold weather.
I wish that it was safer to go around cities and such barefoot. I mean, there's the danger of glass and other sharp objects which, if you are careful, you can avoid. I would much rather like to roam around freely and not have to worry about. I understand that feet can get dirty (I'm so guilty of coming home with black feet), but that can hardly be avoided. It's unlikely though, that actual diseases are contracted through the feet. Half the problem with walking around barefoot is people go and put wet feet into closed toed shoes!
Another thing about shoes. Mine almost always smell because my feet sweat. It's an unfortunate fact of life, and I know I'm not alone. That's why more often than not, I am barefoot in the summer. I simply despise shoes. However, flats are about the next best thing if I have to conform. I go through them like crazy because I practically destroy them with how I walk/run/stand and so on. I was made to be barefoot.
I think it's easier on my joints if I do everything barefoot. Sure I'm extremely short, but I can manage on tip toes. Not a huge deal, all in all.
Maybe the only shoes I like to wear (if only for a short time) are high heels. It's mostly because they make me feel tall, confident, and depending on the heel... kinda sexy. But that's usually not for too long. I abandon heels ASAP.
So, my consensus? MORE BARE FEET! I am going to strive to be barefoot as often as possible. Obviously in my profession and studies, I won't be able to do that for fear of actually losing my feet... Chemistry deals with some fantastically dangerous stuff. But I'm going to try and throw off the social construct. Within reason, of course. I don't think I'm about to go on a date barefoot any time soon...
He must become greater; I must become less.
-- John 3:30
Thursday
A very disjointed post follows.
I cut my hair. It's so short. I kinda miss my long hair! Aaaaahhh... oh well. Not much I can do about it now. I just gotta wait for it to grow. But oh well. I think I can deal with that reasonably well.
College shopping is mostly done! HALLELUJAH. OMG. I'm seriously fed up with all this shopping.
My eyes are pretty much the same. Again.
I miss people.
I have to laugh at a text I got from one of my best friends. "My parents want to know when they'll get to see you again."
I've seen his parents more in the past few weeks I was up there than I had ever since I've known him.
Yay. I'm liked.
I guess that's all.
I'm bored.
I've been sewing. My machine has been oiled and no longer squeaks. I also got a rotary cutter! Now I just need a cutting mat, but all in due time.
I'm sewing a jacket. It should be fun.
I don't even know what my next project will be...
Anyhow... I should sleep. I'm up far too late.
"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock
and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives;
he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be
opened."
-- Matthew 7:7-8
I cut my hair. It's so short. I kinda miss my long hair! Aaaaahhh... oh well. Not much I can do about it now. I just gotta wait for it to grow. But oh well. I think I can deal with that reasonably well.
College shopping is mostly done! HALLELUJAH. OMG. I'm seriously fed up with all this shopping.
My eyes are pretty much the same. Again.
I miss people.
I have to laugh at a text I got from one of my best friends. "My parents want to know when they'll get to see you again."
I've seen his parents more in the past few weeks I was up there than I had ever since I've known him.
Yay. I'm liked.
I guess that's all.
I'm bored.
I've been sewing. My machine has been oiled and no longer squeaks. I also got a rotary cutter! Now I just need a cutting mat, but all in due time.
I'm sewing a jacket. It should be fun.
I don't even know what my next project will be...
Anyhow... I should sleep. I'm up far too late.
"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock
and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives;
he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be
opened."
-- Matthew 7:7-8
I don't even know how long it's been since I've updated this thing. All I know is that I've been sucking at being a regular blogger. Mostly because I just haven't had the motivation.
Overall, things have been iffy with me. I've been having some fabulous days, and I've been having some less than stellar days. I'm riding a lovely roller coaster of emotions and straight up feelings, but I guess that's how it's always been. I just need to make sure I keep myself in control of everything that's going on. I also need to regulate myself because I sure as hell don't have anyone with me to help me with that. I just gotta man up and take care of myself for once.
I hardly have any idea of what to say. I've been thinking about starting my own sewing blog, not like anyone would really frequent it, but I've been doing a lot of sewing lately. It would be interesting to see if I could maintain something like that. I guess I've just been throwing myself into different passions because writing just hasn't been cutting it for me. Either I haven't had the inspiration, or anything that I've been writing is just... sucking.
I just... I don't know anymore. I've been riding a rough wave of depression that's been coming and going. I've recently started eating regular meals again, thanks to a friend. However, now that I'm not living with her, it might be easier to just stop again. My motivation to stay healthy can just... go away. Same with my sleeping patterns. Now that I don't have anything to do, I can stay up super late, sleep in like crazy and just not do anything. I can retreat into my mind and speak only a handful of words a day. I can cut myself off from any social interaction with ease now. The fact that I'm thinking all of these things is a little off putting. But I don't care anymore. I'm ready for the aches and pains that have already started. I'm ready for the dramatic change in my psyche. I already know how my life is going to go.
Maybe I need help.
Maybe I'm too afraid to ask for it.
Maybe I'm too afraid to accept it.
Maybe, just maybe, I don't want any of this to be true.
I swear, if I didn't have the fear of having scars to explain, I might actually devolve into self injury. But I never want to have to explain my scars. I already have one too many.
I'm crazy, aren't I? I'm starting to delve into something I should never be. Right now I'm not sure if it's the late night talking, or if I'm really truly upset. I'm not sure if I just have some anxiety about college, or if this is something that needs to be dealt with right now. I just don't know.
I think my problem is that I don't like talking to the people that could truly help me because I'm afraid of being judged. I know that the people that can't help me won't judge me because they're my friends and they accept me. That's the end of the story. Sure, my family is one thing, but they have to live with me and they can have whatever thoughts they want. I already know what my sister would/does/could think about all of this. I'm afraid that mentality spreads throughout the family. Even thought I know it's not true. Whatever I'm battling, I'm not alone... and I just refuse to believe that in my core.
Maybe I just want to suffer alone because it's easier that way. That way no one can be hurt by my actions. That way I don't have to worry about anyone being sad when I leave. That way I won't have to worry about people wasting their precious time on me. That way, I can make a nice quiet exit and not have to worry about the backlash.
I hate this. All of this. I'm endlessly conflicted. I know why I have to live, but at the same time, it gets harder and harder for me to carry on. I love my friends, but they're slowly slipping away from me. I've had a dream that I've always wanted to realize, but maybe I'm in over my head. I'll never be able to accomplish such a large task. So why should I try in the first place?
I just don't understand.
I need something.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
Against such things there is no law.
-- Galatians 5:22-23
Overall, things have been iffy with me. I've been having some fabulous days, and I've been having some less than stellar days. I'm riding a lovely roller coaster of emotions and straight up feelings, but I guess that's how it's always been. I just need to make sure I keep myself in control of everything that's going on. I also need to regulate myself because I sure as hell don't have anyone with me to help me with that. I just gotta man up and take care of myself for once.
I hardly have any idea of what to say. I've been thinking about starting my own sewing blog, not like anyone would really frequent it, but I've been doing a lot of sewing lately. It would be interesting to see if I could maintain something like that. I guess I've just been throwing myself into different passions because writing just hasn't been cutting it for me. Either I haven't had the inspiration, or anything that I've been writing is just... sucking.
I just... I don't know anymore. I've been riding a rough wave of depression that's been coming and going. I've recently started eating regular meals again, thanks to a friend. However, now that I'm not living with her, it might be easier to just stop again. My motivation to stay healthy can just... go away. Same with my sleeping patterns. Now that I don't have anything to do, I can stay up super late, sleep in like crazy and just not do anything. I can retreat into my mind and speak only a handful of words a day. I can cut myself off from any social interaction with ease now. The fact that I'm thinking all of these things is a little off putting. But I don't care anymore. I'm ready for the aches and pains that have already started. I'm ready for the dramatic change in my psyche. I already know how my life is going to go.
Maybe I need help.
Maybe I'm too afraid to ask for it.
Maybe I'm too afraid to accept it.
Maybe, just maybe, I don't want any of this to be true.
I swear, if I didn't have the fear of having scars to explain, I might actually devolve into self injury. But I never want to have to explain my scars. I already have one too many.
I'm crazy, aren't I? I'm starting to delve into something I should never be. Right now I'm not sure if it's the late night talking, or if I'm really truly upset. I'm not sure if I just have some anxiety about college, or if this is something that needs to be dealt with right now. I just don't know.
I think my problem is that I don't like talking to the people that could truly help me because I'm afraid of being judged. I know that the people that can't help me won't judge me because they're my friends and they accept me. That's the end of the story. Sure, my family is one thing, but they have to live with me and they can have whatever thoughts they want. I already know what my sister would/does/could think about all of this. I'm afraid that mentality spreads throughout the family. Even thought I know it's not true. Whatever I'm battling, I'm not alone... and I just refuse to believe that in my core.
Maybe I just want to suffer alone because it's easier that way. That way no one can be hurt by my actions. That way I don't have to worry about anyone being sad when I leave. That way I won't have to worry about people wasting their precious time on me. That way, I can make a nice quiet exit and not have to worry about the backlash.
I hate this. All of this. I'm endlessly conflicted. I know why I have to live, but at the same time, it gets harder and harder for me to carry on. I love my friends, but they're slowly slipping away from me. I've had a dream that I've always wanted to realize, but maybe I'm in over my head. I'll never be able to accomplish such a large task. So why should I try in the first place?
I just don't understand.
I need something.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
Against such things there is no law.
-- Galatians 5:22-23
Friday
Ok, so it's been awhile since I've posted. My graduation ceremony is tomorrow and I've already started packing boxes. I'm almost there- just a few more clothes to go and I'm free. Yes, that is how I'm defining my freedom. Once everything is in a box, I will be free. It's sad that the act of putting my life away is giving me that. I shouldn't be rejoicing, but on one level, I am. On other levels though, I'm sad. I'm going to miss this place and I'm going to miss my friends a lot.
Of course there are a lot of things that I won't miss- like getting up for school, fighting with my sister, and that's about it. I've actually enjoyed my stay here more than I thought I would. I really do love my friends for all that they've done for me, and I really really wish that they could understand all that they mean to me. I don't want to dwell on it too much or else I'm going to cry. I've already done it once this week- I know I'm going to do it tomorrow too.
I just don't know what to do with my life now that I don't have school, and now that I'm going to be going away. And truly away. I won't return to this house in a few months. Maybe in a year or so, I won't have a house to return to at all. At least... not this house. Any house that I return to isn't going to be my house, it's going to be my friends'. Or maybe my parents- if they will still have that house in a few years. It's so sad to truly know that I might not be able to have a place to call home.... a place with memories, a place that I can live in. Most people I know are anchored here, in one way or another. They will still have a family and a familiar place to go back to. I just don't know how I feel. I have so many emotions going through my head I feel almost numb.
I am absolutely relieved to finally be done with school. That is the primary emotion- happiness. I have finally come to the end... Then I feel a bit wary because I don't know what the future will hold for me. then I just stop and think that my life is finally starting. And then I'm kinda happy again. So, sure, it's a bit like a roller coaster.
I guess I really don't know what to say. Things have been pretty interesting lately. I've had a bout of sickness (pretty much over it at this point), I've cried (hey, it got to me), I've slept (hallelujah), and I've had some good times with people.
But maybe I do have something to lament about. The one guy that I really like right now. He has a girlfriend. But yet, when we're together we act so much like a couple- even to the point that one of our mutual friends has just been like, "go out already". And believe me, I want to so badly. But I will never, ever, bridge the option of him dumping his current girlfriend. He will stay with her if he wants to for however long. And if after being separated he realizes that he wants me, then so be it. I'm really hoping he transfers colleges and comes with me and some of our mutual friends. I know they can't stand him sometimes, but somehow he has taken my heart. Not in the traditional way, I suppose...
I think other people can tell how much I like him too. I think I smile a little bit brighter and generally act like I did when I was in a relationship. I care for him, and I just want him to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for people. But we have sacrificed so much for each other, I don't know what I'd do without him. But maybe it's best that I just don't think about it. For now, I need to accept what he's done for me as acts of friendship.
Anyway, I think it's about time I wrapped this up. Not like I really have anything productive that I need to do, but if I focus too much on everything that's going on, I'll just get too overwhelmed.
Jesus said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must
deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever
wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for
me will save it.
-- Luke 9:23-24
Of course there are a lot of things that I won't miss- like getting up for school, fighting with my sister, and that's about it. I've actually enjoyed my stay here more than I thought I would. I really do love my friends for all that they've done for me, and I really really wish that they could understand all that they mean to me. I don't want to dwell on it too much or else I'm going to cry. I've already done it once this week- I know I'm going to do it tomorrow too.
I just don't know what to do with my life now that I don't have school, and now that I'm going to be going away. And truly away. I won't return to this house in a few months. Maybe in a year or so, I won't have a house to return to at all. At least... not this house. Any house that I return to isn't going to be my house, it's going to be my friends'. Or maybe my parents- if they will still have that house in a few years. It's so sad to truly know that I might not be able to have a place to call home.... a place with memories, a place that I can live in. Most people I know are anchored here, in one way or another. They will still have a family and a familiar place to go back to. I just don't know how I feel. I have so many emotions going through my head I feel almost numb.
I am absolutely relieved to finally be done with school. That is the primary emotion- happiness. I have finally come to the end... Then I feel a bit wary because I don't know what the future will hold for me. then I just stop and think that my life is finally starting. And then I'm kinda happy again. So, sure, it's a bit like a roller coaster.
I guess I really don't know what to say. Things have been pretty interesting lately. I've had a bout of sickness (pretty much over it at this point), I've cried (hey, it got to me), I've slept (hallelujah), and I've had some good times with people.
But maybe I do have something to lament about. The one guy that I really like right now. He has a girlfriend. But yet, when we're together we act so much like a couple- even to the point that one of our mutual friends has just been like, "go out already". And believe me, I want to so badly. But I will never, ever, bridge the option of him dumping his current girlfriend. He will stay with her if he wants to for however long. And if after being separated he realizes that he wants me, then so be it. I'm really hoping he transfers colleges and comes with me and some of our mutual friends. I know they can't stand him sometimes, but somehow he has taken my heart. Not in the traditional way, I suppose...
I think other people can tell how much I like him too. I think I smile a little bit brighter and generally act like I did when I was in a relationship. I care for him, and I just want him to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for people. But we have sacrificed so much for each other, I don't know what I'd do without him. But maybe it's best that I just don't think about it. For now, I need to accept what he's done for me as acts of friendship.
Anyway, I think it's about time I wrapped this up. Not like I really have anything productive that I need to do, but if I focus too much on everything that's going on, I'll just get too overwhelmed.
Jesus said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must
deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever
wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for
me will save it.
-- Luke 9:23-24
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