Saturday, May 26, 2012

summer anthem

shyness, let it go, never have to be alone
shyness, let it go, never have to feel so lonely

Sunday, May 20, 2012

note #2

Tonight, I came home, walked directly into my bedroom, and sobbed into my hands for four minutes, feeling myself tremble in silence. I had every intent to be in bed two hours ago but instead I am awake, drifting through the notion of school, the idea of paying for school. It's all rattling around in my brain and I don't know what to do with any of it except let it all come out by way of tears. I wonder if I am setting myself up for failure, I wonder for how long I will feel not-good-enough, not-smart-enough, not-pretty-enough. There is some inside part of me gaping to get out, and all the while, it cannot, it cannot, it cannot. I graze the surface of feeling well. I smile and know it will work out. In the mean time I feel suffocated and unimportant, I know I am small and unimportant, I don't know when I will feel well again, I don't know if I ever will.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

haven't been journaling as i ought

haven't been doing as i ought, haven't been thinking as i ought. every day the weight of a new day hovers over my head and tells me, you have to do this right and then you have to write about it. my journal goes untouched, though. sloppy handwriting from more inspired months fills the pages, fueled with desire and longing and the willingness to hope and also the deep sorrow, the depression that leads to my best thoughts and ideas, the sadness that i find myself quivering in, secretly enjoying the little bursts of inspiration that come with not knowing and feeling down-trodden. the past two weeks are a whirlwind in my mind and all i can think is, why am i so dry and where am i coming from and why do i even exist in all this and where am i going.
i could start with the rejection from berkeley. i wasted a week of my life, prior to receiving said rejection, bemoaning the future, knowing what was in store. if i'm honest, i flounced my way through admissions letters, wrote a personal statement that said nothing about myself but the fact that i'm a bumbling daydreamer who we all know would never be able to handle the full coursework at a prestigious university, would not know how to manage being surrounded by ego and competition and emptiness. probably it was a blessing in disguise.
the week after, i swept myself up in daydreams of vermont, tiny liberal arts colleges with hip student bodies, students who have interests as diverse as mine, who wear cuffed jeans and flannels and thick-rimmed glasses and look so happy and fun and who seem to love the earth, at least, if the website photos are to be believed. my dream school was discovered too late and is too far out of reach and i am making peace with that. come autumn, i will be living in the redwoods, along the coast, two and a half hours from my new friend annabel in davis, one and a half hours from san francisco. i will be as on my own as i have ever been, but i will also be surrounded by people, surrounded by people just waiting to be met and adored and hopefully kissed.
my birthday was just yesterday and it feels like seven years ago or even as if it didn't happen. i stayed up 'til midnight, the day before, the day of, and now. twenty doesn't feel so different. i am a new woman but i have done so little. my birthday was crummy, as i expected, but crummier than expected, but okay, because tea and starbucks until closing, dreaming of visits up north, visits to portland, visits to canada. i am falling in love with the idea of leaving. my heartstrings tie themselves up and away from this little old town more and more each day. i am ready to leave, as scary as that is to say. i am twenty and i have done so little and i am ready to leave. if school is the only way to manage that, then so be it.
deciding to major in politics didn't come easily. literature, i always said, as if i knew the greatness of whitman in my heart, as if i'd ever touched the taming of the shrew. my fingers have grazed the spines of a million cherished tomes that i most likely will never, ever know. i am coming to terms with the fact that studying literature would not be true to myself, not really. my real self, whatever that is, longs to be informed about everything, longs to be responsible and make informed decisions, doesn't have the attention span for an hour-long film but would really like to be immersed in the arts, would really like to have the mind that isn't bored by analyzing character inflection and movement, the surrounding environment, the way that everything is new in fall. maybe everything is new in fall because it just is, maybe we should all just learn to read and enjoy it. no. literary analysis is for other people, people who have big imaginations and bigger dreams than mine. i am a realistic-idealist with a romantic edge, is all. i want to study politics, i want to represent a female where it seems very few females are represented. i want to be strong and independent and refrain from feeling intimidated despite the fact that i just might not understand.
more than anything, i want to feel the earth in my palms, spread myself wide under a hazy-blue-cloudy sky, look up and feel myself knowing and learning more, look up and feel myself being alone and alive and also hopefully loved at some point. everything is scary, but i am learning more each day. offer of admission, to be accepted soon. room, to be packed soon. my life will be in boxes, my life will be starting anew. everything will be new in the fall.