up too early

So strange for me to be up before 10 when I don't have any reason to be whatsoever. And I can't put my finger on anything. I went to bed late(ish) so certainly I'm not well rested. My only guess is that a) the sun is coming up a little earlier and b) there's someone sawing something loudly next door. Although, to be fair, that's been happening for the last two years, so nothing new there.

So, what did I do with my first hour of glorious awakeness? Well, I looked at all of Oxford's statistics, checked e-mail about 100 times, and played on facebook. The moral of the story is that I would have been better served, probably, by staying asleep. I'm a little confused, seriously, why that didn't happen.

All I know is that I'll probably need a nap later. Kind of boo.

And I really wish that I had spent that hour more meaningfully because I won't ever get it back and because I will probably do all those other useless things 300 times today, again. Alas.

But, whatever, I should be celebrating because I have nothing to do on Mondays and get to languish in bed for hours at a time doing worthless, trivial things that have nothing at all to do with anything. Sometimes it's great to be a fourth semester senior.

In other news: there isn't really any. My life is full, certainly, but not of the type of thing that usually finds its way to these pages. I realized that I usually post about the downsides...the negatives...the things I'm so frustrated about I feel like I can't actually share them with a real person. Since I've got none of those things to complain about, I have just been making random "aaaah" postings. While I'm sure these posts are fun for me to write, they don't really add much substance or demonstrate much of the joy and complexity of life to others. Suffice it to say that I feel like I should be writing about substantive things instead of nothing. I'll try, but I'm not saying everything.

I feel like, sometimes, the most worthwhile things in life are the ones we hold so close to our heart that we don't share them with people as a mass, just with the one or two other people to which they matter. I think that might be best about 98% of the time. The other 2% I feel like is what I should be writing about. I think the whole point of writing is to share beauty, splendor, wonder, and happiness with others. Especially once I've gotten some of it. These things, though, can be so elusive. And right now the things that make me smile are connected to things that are mine alone, so I'm going to take them, run with them (possibly even literally), and let you know when myself and things come crashing down. Hopefully, though, it will be laughing in the grass instead of sobbing on the pavement, but I still think either is worth a journey full of meaning, exchange, and growth.

All endings are happy if you believe in the power of the story that brought you there.

And right now, I do.

Hello, I love you...

Good morning, morning. It's afternoon, actually, but I just finished with Sunday brunches.

I had a fabulous weekend. All said and done, I got ahead of schedule in life and happiness. I was bursting for a pretty good amount of it.

I'm starting to finally notice physically that I've been working out every day. I did actually feel more tired at the gym yesterday than usual, but in a good way, I think. My muscles are feeling more in tune with each other and with use. I think, though, that I'm going to start going to yoga with one of my girlfriends because I'm absolutely certain I need to be moving my body in new, different, more full ways. Not being a dancer anymore, I miss the rigor of perfecting each movement.

I discovered a new poetry book last night by Kim Addonizio. I'm really enjoying it and I even e-mailed her and asked her whether she'd consider coming to speak. Who knows if she'll actually get back to me, but I really like what she's saying and how she's saying it in some of her poems. I got it off of my friend's bookshelf, but he found it in the small publisher and out of print section at a huge bookstore/warehouse in Portland. In one of her poems she writes about Virginia, so I'm interested to know more. I'll keep you updated.

In other news, smiling and happiness are enough sometimes. I'm getting there more and more every day. After all, when all is said and done, what do I really have to be sad about? I have incredible friends who I would do anything for and who would do anything for me and that's honestly half the battle. Thank you to all of you who are. You are more to me me than I could have expected.

punchy

First of all, I strongly dislike titles.

Secondly, not being on Facebook is hard! I have wanted to edit my interests, look up some people to friend, and basically be Facebooky. I wish I weren't so wrapped up in it.

Other than that, I guess I don't have much to say. Earlier I was in the mood to post and so I went to do so. Just as I was getting ready to say something useful, the bookstore Internet went out and so now I'm left with a bunch of undigested thoughts that are going to have to get squashed into the back of my head until later this week when I'm not furiously reading sciences.

Actually, no, you know what? Here it goes:

I think I screwed up. I don't think I'm doing this right at all. I think that I've convinced myself that I'm strong, ready, able, and willing to be a lot of things that just aren't in my heart to be.

I have been telling myself for a few years now that I would end up being the bread winner in my relationships because I would never find a man to support me and that I would never be a stay-at-home mom because I don't like kids that much, but that's a lie. I don't know how I convinced myself that I 100% felt that way, because I don't. I hate admitting I'm wrong, especially to myself, but I am. If I met the right person, I would let him support me. I would want to have dinner ready when he came home from work, and I would even raise the kids. I would want us to be a family that plays together and ideally, I would write. I would not devote my entire life to wiping up some kid's spittle; I would have my own life of which a family was one part. Really, that doesn't sound too terrible.

I think I've been so bitter and afraid that I wouldn't ever meet someone worthwhile that I've been telling myself that's not what I want. I think that I'm so afraid of failing at relationships, I won't even let myself think that I want one. I've been being pretty emotionless recently when it has come to men in my life, but I'm not sure that's me. I'm not sure it isn't...I'm just not sure.

I guess it feels so much better to put up a facade of a strong identity that I've put a lot of thought into creating than to admit that I have no idea who I am. I know some things...but not enough to define me.

When I came to college, I was a Mrs. Degree--the girl who is only in college because the dating prospects are better here than in my hometown (sad, I know). I expected, fully, to be mediocre academically, and it didn't really matter as long as I was having a good time. Somewhere in the midst of my two-year-long relationship, I changed. I was doing well academically. I was beginning to enjoy being the dominant person in a relationship instead of being a mom-in-training. My parents had convinced me that since I didn't really cook/clean/do my own laundry/etc., I would never be a successful wife/mother/parent/homemaker. I told myself then, "Well, I'm used to a doctor's salary and I haven't found anyone else to give it to me, so I might as well make it myself." That was the end of junior year. I was even more convinced after that summer that I would never again be dependent on someone, I turned into a raging bitch female chauvinist pig: I wanted to be the boss, be in charge, be as far away from children and the "home" as possible. I spent plenty of time bashing women who were sappy, sensitive, child-friendly, romantic, etc. I wanted nothing to do with anything that I saw as too feminine of a trait. I'm still not sure I'm completely over that. I do think that it's completely reasonable for me to think that I may end up in that sort of relationship. What has changed, though, is my ability to believe that maybe, just maybe, I won't. Maybe I will be a stay-at-home mom. Maybe I will have a husband who supports our family with a regular 9-5 job while I work on books, teaching, whatever it is that I want to do to bring in a little extra money on the side. And hey, if I get successful doing what it is I want to be doing, great.

This brings up some questions for me: is med school really worth it? I feel like I won't really be driven to use my medical degree if I don't have to. I mean, maybe, but I might be just as happy teaching some writing classes or picking flowers in the park or reading with and to some kids that may or may not happen to be mine. I don't know. I'm just feeling like I could go into any sort of direction right now and lack completely the drive to head down any one specific path. I'm really hoping that something just pops up out of nowhere and makes the next set of big decisions I am bound to have to make eventually a whole lot easier.

I would say I might win the lottery, but I don't even play.
Maybe it will be the social lottery. Who knows?

this just in

Today when I opened up my amazon.com homepage in order to look up a desk that would span my bathtub so I could write in the tub, I saw a ridiculous home page (I will scan images in later, promise). It prompted a lot of thought regarding my individuality, taste levels, cultural awareness, etc.

Don't worry. I'll explain.

I fixed my bike. My hands smell like bike grease but I am glad that I labored on the product myself. I do need to fix the breaks. Maybe I will learn how.

I am very surprised there is not a desk for writing over the bathtub. I may have to make one? Ask Bryan / Brian to make one? Hmm.

Alright. Shower, clean. Crazy keg party @ my house. Again, I mean. That's twice in three days.

What?

sitting in the dark

I think I have some more ideas about some future plans.

First, I think that the way I want to do all sorts of things is to go into military medicine with special interests in nontraditional methods....maybe something similar to Full Catastrophe Living like meditation...and look into how that affects different groups of people. I have some ideas.

Also, I want to do an independent study in women's studies next semester and keep an e-journal complete with pictures, detailing the ways in which my life is affected by me being a woman....seeking out privilege and seeking out flaws...reading some theory and figuring out how what they are saying is "true" or "false" within my own life. Seems like something I could get away with, yes?

Alright, well, I am going to go turn on some lights.

because my fingers are moving

I live in filth and revel in infamy.
If it's an important weekend, guaranteed I have my period.
I don't know the word tact, and I cross the line at least once every 12 hours.
I surround myself with people who are as screwed up on the inside as I am.
They just don't all know it yet.
But the best ones do.

I love pirates and postcards and practically anything that starts with the letter p except perhaps penis, since I prefer other words like cock and dick. Penis just sounds so polite.

I hate waking up in the morning, but love going to bed because it's warm and snuggly. I thrive on fog as long as it's pretty and light rain as long as the sun in shining. Take me to any body of water, I will make myself happy.

I re-evaluate my life on a daily basis and find out that usually I'm just treading water until I actually get it right and decide what I want to do.

Science excites me.

Traveling is the root of all good and all evil for me-- I can't get enough, but I never seem to enjoy it enough while I'm there. Being abroad is a smattering of memories, and I can't hold on to any of them.

I update sporadically, and I don't really care because this is just one way I file myself down when I'm feeling rough around the edges.

I write poetry and prefer parsnips to french fries when I'm eating a steak. I like blue cheese on top, but not by itself. My favorite meal involves mashed potatoes and meat, and I would be completely content to live off of those two things for the rest of my life, as long as you throw in a vegetable.

I love run-on sentences and write train of thought and left a lot of my heart in the south, even though I never want to be considered southern. But I do say "heaven forbid."

I am adept at understanding any rapid sort of lyric from my early obsession with beat poetry and my dedication to having a functional relationship with the English language in all of it's forms. Screamo, however, is often too much for me to decipher.

About half of the time I feel so full of life I want to explode, and the other half I feel so completely drained that even sleep takes effort. I hate and love medicine because I love the quick fix, but hate the stigma.

I hate being a woman because I hate most women and a lot of the things that we (I will include myself) feel is necessary in life. We judge and mean it, we gossip and don't mean it, and we take anything anyone else says regarding ourselves way too seriously. I mean, really, boys talk about each other all of the time, and it's endearing. What sorts of social lessons are women missing out on that makes us somewhat non-functional beings from time to time?

But I would hate to be a man because they are, largely, completely devoid of sexual power. And I may never be a CEO, but I do know how to use the fact that I'm a woman to get my way.

I like crying at the end of bad movies. I love foreign films. Video games are a part of my daily ritual. I am self-assured, but accused of being selfish. I truly don't care a lot for other people, but only because, in general, they are not much concerned with me. When I have a real friend, I get upset at every tiny bit of frustration they have and only want to fix things to make them better.

I have a love/hate relationship with the idea of becoming a parent, but I am almost certain it's inevitable.

I can not see myself in ten or twenty years.

But I look happy when I'm eighty and talking to a man with large ears.