Farewell

It's the last blog of the semester and it feels a little sad, to be honest. I have blogged on my personal blog on Blogspot since 2009, and before that on Xanga (back in "the good ol' days"). It's always sort of sad when you finish a blog--I get very melodramatic and nostalgic about it. The great thing about blogs is that they are very much like a diary or journal--they hold personal thoughts that you wouldn't usually say, but that you think about and dwell on. I love blogging and am very glad that we had the opportunity to blog in this English class. It's even sadder ending this blog because I began to look forward to the end of the week to check up on all you and read all of your blogs. It was great reading up on all of you and I wish you good luck with the rest of the semester. Happy holidays, as well!

The Fair

The Louisiana State Fair is in town this week, and I GOT TO GO!!! I must explain that I had never gone to the fair before--it was always something that I wanted to do, but wasn't allowed to because "the fair is too dangerous." I'm not sure how much of my mom saying that was because she actually believed that the fair was dangerous or because she didn't want to have to chase me and my sisters around so many people. No matter. Either way, the fair was always something that I wanted to experience, and I FINALLY GOT TO EXPERIENCE IT!!! A friend picked me up and drove me to the fair, where he gave me a ticket he had bought for me earlier that day. We bought ride tickets and I got to ride FAIR RIDES for the first time. I also got to purchase my first caramel apple, which is always something I associated with "the time" I might someday have at the fair. My friend and I also rode the ferris wheel. I could not stop smiling the entire time we were there. Call me silly and easily entertained or excitable, but I will happily embrace those descriptions--I am not ashamed. The fair was exactly what I always thought it would be--absolutely wonderful.

Random Thoughts

It's odd how old someone can be and still wonder about who they are exactly. I was trying to figure out "what kind of a person" I am today, as I skipped lunch and sat outside by myself smoking a cigarette. It sounds hilarious; sounds as if I was feeling sorry for myself, sulking in the corner, trying to be noticed. I wasn't. It's thoughts like "what kind of a person am I" that seem so deep at the time and easily deduced; but you end up, sooner or later, realizing that these thoughts don't really matter and have no obvious answer anyway. After this is realized, you find the past thoughts first hilarious (that you took them so seriously at the time) and then rather disheartening and sobering, for an unexplained reason. It's quite odd really.

Anyway, how it all started was I was thinking about how much I loved being outside, just sitting there by myself. I thought about how most people would hate to be by themselves like that--most would find it almost depressing. I understand this thought process, but I don't agree with it. I love those times outside by myself. However, I do not like being by myself at my house. In fact, I will do almost anything to keep from staying at my house by myself (including driving somewhere or going out to eat or to a movie by myself). When it boils down to it, I think I like being around people, but not feeling as though I have to talk to them. Sometimes, I don't want to talk. Sometimes I just want to be a part of a moment and take a snapshot for later-- have something to hold onto. I don't want to forget anything, but just soak it all in. And other times, I want to be in a car full of friends having ugly face competitions and smashing Oreo's in my teeth while driving around town smiling creepily at people. I wonder if that makes me odd.

"There are so many separate selves; no one who writes creatively hasn't felt that." - Jeanette Winterson

Just in Time for Halloween

So I noticed something odd last night. I was pulling onto a friend’s street when my radio’s volume suddenly turned up. At the time, I noted that it was slightly odd, but figured that I may have bumped the volume knob while I was turning the car. I put the incident out of my mind.

Today, I was pulling into the parking garage at work, listening to instrumental music on the radio. I noticed it again. The music got extremely loud very quickly; I looked at the radio as I reached towards the knob to turn it down. The screen on the radio said that the volume was actually changing. It looked as if someone was turning the knob back and forth very quickly. I grabbed the knob, turned it down and then just sort of stared at it.

It scared me. It may have been a short somewhere in the system (as if that would be the first time that has occurred in my car), but it scared me just the same. It’s notable when strange things happen; but if you see them happening, it’s even more odd. Needless to say, I think my car is haunted...

CAUTION!!!

I have never been someone who cooks. My version of cooking for myself is a package of Ramen-- I like to eat fast and be on my way with as little dishes as possible, since I live by myself in Highland. However, yesterday I had the GRAND idea to cook fettucini alfredo for myself. I put on a record and wore clothes that I could imagine wearing as some adorable 1950's housewife. I stirred the alfredo with such delicacy and meticulousness. It was a wonderful meal-- I didn't know I could cook so well! However, upon putting the noodle box back into the pantry, I had the grand idea to look inside the box. I don't know what my thought process was in doing this, but I wish I hadn't looked in it. What I found there was.... a live roach. Oh, yes. I had just made myself some tasty roach alfredo. This is why cooking when one lives in Highland is a horrible idea.

Fall!

Let me tell you a bit about today. I work downtown in the Regions building, and every day on my lunch break, I go out to my car and take a nap or do homework in my office. Today was slightly different though. I wanted to go outside instead of being confined to my small car. I walked out to the front of my building on Texas Street and sat down on a bench. I wasn't sweating. I wasn't freezing. I wasn't stressed. I wasn't tired. I just was. There was a slight breeze and the sky looked particularly blue. I looked up, noticing the architecture in the building-- from the angle I was looking from, the building reminded me of Jacob's ladder. But something caught my eye-- it was one lone leaf floating down from several stories up the building. I watched it float and tumble all the way down until it finally rested on the pavement. It was the first "fall" thing I've noticed this season; and I must say, it was appreciated and welcome.

Fair Weather Friends

Please tell me this-- when was it ever okay to pry into other people's personal business? I understand that we, as humans, like to gossip, like to feel as if we have some type of valued information that somehow gives us points on an imaginary "cool scale." But doesn't it seem that gossiping disregards the person that you're referencing? Perhaps I am the only one that thinks this way, but I feel that if you talk about someone as if they'll never find out, you are almost saying that you don't care about that person- their privacy, their trust, etc. I have never been someone who enjoys bashing my friends or enjoys spreading rumors about them-- that's why they are my friends and not just some acquaintance. I am slightly closed off to most people; but if I view someone as a part of my friend circle, it is because I think the world of them. I chose them as one of the people I would hang out with when I needed someone to talk to or wanted a teammate on whatever venture I was about to embark on, and vice versa. Why would I want to hurt them? I have abnormally thick skin for a girl; it takes a great deal to really upset me. But at a certain point, after multiple different people do the same thing, one wonders if anyone else really is in a friendship for the actual friendship or if they are merely in it because it is comfortable and easy at the moment. When do you know if something is worth fighting for and when it is not?

So This is How It Feels

You know those times when you do something that is out of the ordinary for you? When you break character? It usually occurs after some curve ball, some sudden change in your life. It happens after it starts raining when you were wearing white or after you got involved in that unplanned fender bender. It could happen after something so small as the restaurant running out of chips when you were so looking forward to gorging yourself on salsa. How will you react?

Usually I am a very soft spoken person in times of conflict. I never defend myself; I never think my justification is worth the fight I would have to put up to "win." And I will not put up a fight and lose. I am far too competitive to bow out. But unfortunately, I am the worst fighter I know. I am far too empathetic. I won't stand up for myself; I'm far more likely to say that I understand the other person's perspective than to say that they should understand mine. This is me on a typical day in my life.

However, today something was different. I got in a bind, in a disagreement so to speak, where I had to fight for what I wanted. Normally, I would step down or weigh out the options- "is fighting for this worth the reward? Do I want it that bad?" However, something about today was different. Something within me snapped. I did want it that bad and I would fight for it. I was firm and unafraid. I am not sure if this is an improvement for me or not; however, it was extremely nice to be able to be strong and stand up for me for once. It was as if it was a breakthrough moment where I was watching myself come of age or something. I felt proud and out of place all at once- but not scared. It was a good feeling.

"She Was a Tomboy"

Sometimes I feel like I should act more like a lady. The thing is I am very comfortable acting the way that I do. For me to act as if I cared about the newest makeup or your dress being "So cute! Where did you get it?!"... If I tried to mimic all of those little cares, I feel as if I would be merely playing a joke on people. Don't get me wrong; I can pretend that I am a regal creature, tip toeing about in the smallest steps that I can, with the smallest feet imaginable (constantly pointed, of course, for good measure). I could have the perfect hair and keep my nails perfectly manicured. I could brush my hair "thrice" a day and only speak when spoken to. But I am afraid none of that is me. I am the type of girl that is infamously clumsy, would much rather leave my house with wet hair than feel as if I tried too hard and would do anything that I am dared to do. For example, last night I stayed awake with a friend until five o'clock in the morning walking up and down railroad tracks, intently watching for the perfect train to smash the pennies we held onto with such excitement. This is normal for me. At some point along the way, I feel as if I traded high heels for tree climbing and my mother's lipstick for my dad's music. And the best thing about these seemingly unfortunate mix-ups is that I wouldn't trade them for anything, because those are all of the things that I really enjoy- I cannot realistically wish I were any different. So for every time I have heard the word "tomboy" thrown at me, I have learned to take that with a sense of pride. Despite the negative connotation that comes with a label such as this, at least it shows that one was recognized for not being exactly like everyone else. As a kid, I never wanted to "fit in." I wanted to do something different- be my own person. I believe that everyone has that desire and that right, if they weren't afraid of being the only one that would use it. Cookie cutter humans are beautiful, but the ones with a few rough edges are the most appealing to me.

Down, Nostalgia!

I am down today. Very down.

All the songs I hear are reminders of when I didn't know to be sad. I tripped over a rolling chair. My coworker cussed out my boss. I'm out of cigarettes. I have to take a shower when I get home, when I really need to get to Starbucks to study so that I can be done by tonight.

I just want to be held. I want to draw words and pictures on my sisters back while we're supposed to be sleeping (she'll never guess this one). I want my dad to put me in pj's again cuz I fell asleep in the car. I want to take back the time that I got mad at him when he did this - when we both realized I was getting older. I want to ride home listening to the Beatles with my dad after church and take my tights off in the car, hanging my legs out of the window (because only daddy let me do that.) I want to plan to run away, but never wake up when I was supposed to. I want to chase lightning bugs. I don't want to grow old.

Hormone's are a horrible thing.