My Own Private Evergreen

I've been at Evergreen for nearly a week, and the only problems I have encountered are generally being hungry (it is college though), finding clean water my fish, and generally lacking a sense of direction. I have solved the food dilemma, as I have learned how to feed myself with very limited cooking implements, and how to find cheap food. The fish water issue still stands, and they smell, so I have to go on that quest tomorrow.

Not Giving a Fuck

Gracias amigo del alma.
:]

Commotion

My stomach is churning. My room is empty. My car is packed. My mind is a mess. I can hardly articulate what is whirring through my mind, there is just too much. I am going to move to Evergreen tomorrow.

Fresh

Forty-eight hours until Evergreen. Should I be panicking now? I am a little bit, but it's all wound up in excitement and rapture. I'm enjoying the time I have left at home, because it is passing all too fast. Today my intention is to curl up with a few good books and relax, because all the excitement of the past few weeks has left me a little under the weather. I have decided that Evergreen really is a fresh start, and that I refuse to deny any part of myself in order to gain acceptance. My deep rooted fear of rejection is clashing with my new will to go prime time. Through much thought and many strange and core shaking conversations, I have come to the conclusion that failing to reconcile my public image with my private self goes against my principles. It's dishonest, though only I may recognise it. I refuse to clash against myself anymore.

I fear change, I fear rejection, I fear loss, I fear appearing weak. Such fears have been learned through 18 years of worldly experience. In the past I have let those fears determine my actions. I have lost friends and people that I love, I have been rejected, change has shaken my foundations, I have been hurt, and felt helpless, and appeared weak, and been rejected and chastised for it. These are things that happen to everyone. So I have created a public self. A person who is bold and brave, who is invincible while remaining compassionate, who can do anything, say anything. This public self possesses all of the traits which I feel express the best parts of myself. Then there is my private self, which is a part of me that I guard and only express in solitude. The part of me that is quiet and contemplative, nerdy, empathetic, shy, and day dreaming. This part of me clashes against the boisterous, confident, and quick witted part of me that most people I come into contact with see. In the past I have attempted to bring my private self to par with my public self. High school was not the appropriate environment. People had already categorised and defined each other, and my reputation had seemingly been carved into stone.

Evergreen is a fresh start. I am free to express any part of myself I wish, and to be defined by it. I can only hope that I will find people who are open minded and reliable, and who I can find a kindred spirit in. Either way, I fully intend to be nothing but myself, wholly and honestly.

I am who I am, take it or leave it.

Summer Sailing

Sailing is so amazing! I went to community sailing today, hadn't been in a week. It was so nice to get back out on the water. I sailed a Laser Radial, and it was amazing. I did way better than I have in the past, I didn't capsize and I didn't drop the tiller. I even went fast intentionally. I now have three speeds, slow, fast, and unintentionally fast. That's some progress right there, if I do say so myself. I'm really going to miss sailing. It was one of the best things I decided to do in high school. I learned so much, and I met so many amazing people. Ron and Matt have basically and essentially become like fathers to me. It's funny, I was only on the team for a year, but I am really going to miss everyone so much when I go to college. Matt kept patting me on the back when I talked about going off to college in 3 days, saying "It's a big step." It is a big step. I am amazingly excited and terrified and... ready. I cannot wait. As much as I am going to miss so many people and so many things about Kingston, I am ready to move to Olympia. World, I am ready! Evergreen here I come!

Secrets and Triumphs

I have a secret. It's a very good secret, and not at all a harmful and dangerous secret. It's not spiteful or mean or vindictive. It's just lovely. But I'm not telling.

Anyway. I have 3 days now, and I am getting really really excited. I know that I am going to cry, I'm sure. Mom is going to drop me off and get all of the boxes up to my room and I am going to ball my eyes out. It's simply a definite. Either way, I am excited. I need to find a way to eat for a while, so that I don't die during practice. I suppose I'll just stock up on food before I leave and cook and such in my dorm. My classy rice cooker and pressure cooker will aid me in that venture. I'm very excited to start living in Olympia. Even though I currently have no money, which I found out in the nick of time, before I got an overdraft fee. I need a job, hard. Luckily I will be down in Olympia before most of the other Freshmen so I can begin my job hunting early. Hopefully I can get something through the school, but if not, that's fine as well, I can just plan around practices and meets and such. ALso, PAX. Jeez. This could be a problem. I have so much going on. I'll do what I must.

My room is fully packed up now. Hemingway keeps sleeping on my duffel bag, I think he knows that I am leaving soon. He has been especially clingy lately. I am going to miss that cat, a lot. He is my cuddle buddy. I suppose I'll have to find a human cuddle buddy, which shouldn't be too challenging. I'm excited to spit out of my window. That is so high up! I can't even comprehend it at this point. It's going to be insane. I was terrified climbing the water tower at Lake Wynoochee, and that was only like 3 stories. Then again, it will be a lot different being up that high in an enclosed building. Oh yes, camping this weekend, I never really covered that. It was fun, everyone was really nice. I ate black beans out of a can, that I cooked over the fire, and I also made a grilled cheese sandwich and toast over the fire. It was epic. I felt very much like an epic pioneer. Pioneers made fire toast, right? Either way it was neat. I also ran a lot, and caught little frogs, and swam a lot. Once I jumped off a rock face with all the guys and then swam to the dock by swimming under the log boom. I felt tough. It was pretty cool.

After camping, I got a grand tour of Olympia from Diann, one of the girls who used to be on the team-- she graduated. I got water from the artesian spring on 4th, and I went to this great coffee shop, where she bought me a Blood Orange Italian Soda for being a courageous water tower climber. Everyone in Olympia is pretty cool, from my observations. I fit right in, I was carrying around a gallon water jug from Haggen's and my shoes kept untying. Then mom came and picked me up from Evergreen to drive me home, and we got stuck in traffic and sang David Bowie really loudly. We also danced, and the people in the cars next to us laughed. It was really fun, I am going to miss that sort of event when I get to Evergreen. Anyway, we saw a redtailed hawk get hit by two cars, so we pulled over and wrapped him in a sweater. I had to ride with a shocked and confused hawk in a sweater on my lap for an hour. It was terrifying. I was worried that his angry beak would come out and eat my face and/or hands. So I named him Bill. We took him to the wildlife center yesterday, he is fine. They checked him over and all he had was some bruises, and apparently he has been giving them hell.

Well, I suppose that's all the news that is worthy. My secret shall remain secret, and my tales of glory have been publicised.

Countdown

Camping was amazing, and everyone on the team is really nice and awesome! I am very excited, but it's a bit daunting to think that I will be living at Evergreen in only 5 days. My whole room is packed up, and everything is off my door, which is very strange and empty feeling. I came home to an inbox full of emails from Evergreen informing me of housing and such. As it turns out I will be moving into my fall assigned dorm on Sunday rather than in September. So I will be on the seventh floor all alone for a while. I predict boredom followed shortly by some amount of shenanigans- nothing destructive mind you. Most likely I'll end up running up and down the stairs and such. It should be amusing. I might go exploring, and by "might" I mean "will definitely". I'll find all the weird nooks and crannies before everyone else, and I'll be the cool cat with all the inside information. I may also be the cool cat who doesn't really tell anyone all the information. My own private Evergreen. I'm very excited. Scared, daunted, but excited. I'm really too distracted to write right now. There is far too much going on and I have been journaling personally on top of this. More later.

Packed Nostalgia

I packed my whole room today. Even the posters on my wall. My walls are bare now. 18 years of life amounts to about 6 boxes of different sizes. I really can't think of much else to say. I am going camping this weekend, and I have 8 days. So, yeah.



Want. I haven't found anyone to trip over love for right now though. It makes me smile though. :] <--- smile.

Introspection

Crunch time; 9 days until Evergreen move in. I reread the email from my Cross-Country coach today, and it turns out we are moving in the 23rd, and practice starts the 24th. At which point I started to panic a little. I am in single digits. 10, 9, 8, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go. There I am. Boxes in the car, walls bare, goodbye childhood, hello future. It's a very surreal feeling. Everything else has sort of been put on hold. I am so concerned with the transition that anything and everything else is somewhat irrelevant. I feel very self involved, which is unusual, despite outward appearances indicating otherwise. I have always looked out for the people that I love and care about, in whatever capacity that love is in. I want to make people smile. I want to feel like I have made an impact in their life, if only in some very minor way. I see the potential in people, I see the best parts of their soul, and I want to see them be the best version of themselves. People seem to misinterpret where I am coming from sometimes, they think I have some ulterior motive, and the honest cross my heart truth is, I don't. I like to make people happy, I like to help them fulfill their goals, because helping them do so is fulfilling for me. I suppose that could be considered an ulterior motive.

There are so many parts of my personality that I have yet to comprehend. Despite extensive introspection, I still feel like I am reading by candlelight. At times I love the company of others, I feel like I want their affirmation, I want to be respected and loved. Then at other times, I only take solace in isolation. I like to disappear for a while sometimes, into the world or into my mind. If I am constantly berated by people I feel like I begin to spin into chaos, and my introversion is a way of finding clarity and peace. I feel like I am disconnected from people in these times, which used to distress me, but I have learned the cycle, and it is never long standing. I only fear that it hurts the people I truly care about, when I see fit to disappear for a while. I am ever the optimist, and more often than not, a complete and utter romantic, but when in a committed relationship I have a tendency of feeling caged. My reaction is to flee, and to shut them out and go into myself. There was only one occasion where that was not the case, I didn't feel trapped. I felt safe. I'm sure I will find another like that someday, but quite honestly, I'm not looking. For the past 4 years I have been in and out of one relationship after another, and I feel like I just want to fly free for awhile. Unless I find a man that is truly remarkable and impossible to ignore, I'm content to seek casual company.

Despite my occasional, or, more than occasional, misanthropy, I really love people. I give love in any capacity that seems fit, and I genuinely care about people and look out for their best interest, because that is what makes me happy. There are so many unreliable and dishonest people in this world, at least in my experience, and I don't want to be one of them. Honesty is something I value over everything else in this world. Love takes a close second, but honesty is an integral part of such. In my past, a lot of the love that has been reciprocated to me has been dishonest-- may it be with best friends, friends, or lovers-- and it has caused me to be wary and untrusting. I have been rejected on so many levels that I have somewhat come to expect it, though it still terrifies me. I have been called an island of a soul.

Part of the reason I put so much value on solitude and independence is that I can rely on myself. I have respect for myself, and I love myself enough to care that I am making decisions that will benefit me and create a general feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment. Then on the other hand, I have somewhat of a loathing for myself, and a general sense of doubt about my own abilities. I feel as though I have to constantly test myself and hold myself to higher and higher expectations. I'm about to go out into the world, to be truly independent and living on my own, and I am scared. It's a real test of my own mental fortitude and my ability to survive. I know I can survive, despite all doubts, but can I thrive? My solution is simply to remain introspective, while detaching myself from the nagging fear that I am not capable as of yet.

Favorites

Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

- Robert Louis Stevenson


Home is the sailor, home from sea:
Her far-borne canvas furled
The ship pours shining on the quay
The plunder of the world.

Home is the hunter from the hill:
Fast in the boundless snare
All flesh lies taken at his will
And every fowl of air.

'Tis evening on the moorland free,
The starlit wave is still:
Home is the sailor from the sea,
The hunter from the hill.

-A.E. Housman

Rant

People seem to know exactly when to test my tolerance. I am in general an empathetic, tolerant, and caring human being; but when I don't feel well, I expect at least a little bit of consideration. I'm mostly ranting because I don't feel well to be completely honest, and being pissed off at someone is much more effective in pacifying me than sitting around being mad about not feeling well. Immunisations are dumb, I think. I mean sure, I won't die now, but in the meantime I feel like punching someone because I feel dizzy and sick and my arms hurt. Also, strangely ironic situations have been occurring in the aftermath of my getting immunised. My arms hurt, so I decided that ibuprofen would be somewhat of an aid in the cessation of that pain. Thus, I reach up into the cabinet- which hurts and is annoyingly difficult with dead weight arms- and the bottle is unscrewed, thus, in my awkward attempt to grasp it with my supposedly opposable thumbs, it spilled, everywhere. So I was forced to pick up roughly 50 or more little red tablets before I could even take two of them, for fear the cat would eat them. Irony is a bitch. Man, I haven't bitched and moaned like this in quite some time, at least not openly. Well, may as well bitch it out.

So pretty much, I really hate Kathy Griffin. She is annoying on so many levels. I mean, just her voice grates at my last nerve. That woman is a menace to society and all who inhabit it. Also, methheads. Seriously. As well as being addicted to methamphetamines, they are also exceedingly lazy, and rather dull. Let me provide an example: So, I'm at Rite Aid, buying... jeez, I believe it was Shoe Goo, but that's beside the point. Anyway, back to the story, so, I'm at Rite Aid, and I walk up to the counter to purchase my Shoe Goo, and this lady is there with five boxes of cold medicine, clearly being kept there awkwardly until my shoe repair purchase was made, so that she may conversate openly with the manager about her clearly methamphetamine related purchase. Complete laziness. What an unmotivated drug addict. I mean, seriously, if I was a meth head I would at least maintain the mental fortitude to purchase my meth supplies at more than one store. Sudafed here, sudafed there. You have to work for it, get the net methheads.

Alright, continuing, what else bothers me about life? People who take things too seriously, especially people who take themselves too seriously. Life is funny. Laugh, have fun, remove the straight rod that you have clearly put in place to maintain a stiff and stern gait, with the unfortunate side effect of making you a complete asshole. It is a bother to the rest of us to put up with your shenanigans. Please refrain from all further shenanigans, unless they are the good kind of shenanigans that may or may not include riding tandem bicycles and bouncing in bouncy castles. Life is too short to take so damned seriously. Also, Agatha Christie novels. Please avoid them at all costs, they are not worth your time, life is way too short. Dane Cook as well, Dane Cook is really not that funny. Please stop encouraging him, it's painful to watch. Now, comedians like Margaret Cho, and Mitch Hedberg (unfortunately he is no longer), should be encouraged, they are hilarious.

Now, to things in fashion that bother me. I love everyone, people are wonderful, in all shapes and sizes, but please do not wear things that do not flatter your body type? If you are not a size 5, do not try to wear a size 5, it doesn't look good, you can keep telling yourself it does, but the fact that it looks like a boa constrictor has consumed the lower half of your body evidences otherwise. Clothing is not meant to be worn that way, clothing is meant to accentuate your features. Accept your size, and if you hate it that much, work out, by all means, but please wear things that fit. Also, do not wear pants that are bedazzled. Despite what you may think, they are not cool. Having a shiny metal studded dragon on your pants is not cool. Another fashion faux pas, Ed Hardy. Ed Hardy is not cool, unless you are a douche, or as I have recently discovered as an available option, a douchette (by the way spellcheck thinks that's a word too, I'm in the clear!) The bedding and houseware sets that they have begun to produce are also unacceptable. If you purchase them, ravenous pelicans will eat you, and your entire family. Do not allow that to happen. Pelicans kill. Hmm... also any item featuring a Looney Toons character is unacceptable. Should you don such images, I suspect the pelicans will again return, this time they will mean business. Pelican peligro mi amigos.

Anyway, I am tired and I feel better after ranting and taking about 4 ibuprofen. I could rant about Disney Pop music or Paula Abdul, but I just haven't the will power.

Nonsense

I can't stop smiling. There is no substantial reason for it, but I can't stop smiling right now. I had a very good day, though it wasn't at all eventful, and life is just, good. There are so many good things right now, and right on the horizon. PAX, Evergreen, camping, meeting everyone! Evergreen in 13 days!

Conveyance

Words are so ineffectively
Effective. They allow articulation
Of wit, seriousness, and emotion.
But seldom do they clearly convey
The meaning of what I am
Trying to say.

Lite Brite

The future is so bright, I'll have to wear shades. (Most probably knock-off Ray Bans.)

Homeward Bound

I've been having trouble writing. In fact, I've been having trouble thinking. There are a million thoughts whirring through my mind at any given time, and it's making my head spin. I have two weeks. Two weeks until I am there. Two weeks until I am home. Then again, my mind starts to drift. What is home? Where is home? When I was in love, I spent my theories of home on it. Love was home. That person, who makes you feel comfortable, who makes you feel safe, who makes you feel like you can be and ought to be the very best version of yourself, that person is home. No matter where you are with them, it's home. Then all that turned out to be farce, and I was homeless again. So I was left without a home, for my heart at least, and to decide what home was.

Is home a place? Is home a concept? What is home? These are questions I have been considering a lot as of late. I'm moving out, I'm moving on, I'm growing up. The place I have considered home for the past 14 years will no longer be my home. It will be a place that I visit and keep my things. It will be where my family is. Can I have more than one home? I don't even know if home is a place at all. In my opinion, it's more of a concept. It's simply a situation in which you feel comfortable being and expressing yourself. Somewhere that you are happy, for the most part at least.

I have to be my own home. Maybe that's what home is. Maybe you just have to decide that you are home. You have to decide that you are comfortable with yourself, and that wherever you are, you are happy and you make the best of it. My home is on the road. My home is at Evergreen. My home is wherever my feet take me. Home is wherever my mind wanders. Home is wherever my heart takes me.

Tabula Rasa

How do you mend something that you can no longer find all the pieces to? I lay here now, listening to Jonathon Coulton and weighing my options. People seemingly can't disappear entirely from your life, no matter how much you will it to be so. Though they are part of your past, they manifest themselves in your present. Your hatred is a manifestation of the impact they had on your mind. That they even cross your mind, may it be wistfully or with loathing, they are in your present. Part of me wants to erase every smile, every heart flutter, every tear, every night spent staring at the ceiling willing the pain away. Sometimes I want to be Clementine, I want to have every memory wiped clean. Tabula rasa. I want to be a blank slate. But I know it would never work.

Regression

Here I am once again, awake. Dreadfully awake. At yet another ungodly hour of the, well, morning. Sleep is something that hasn't come easy of late. My mind starts processing and it's over, I'm awake. Fully cognitive without a chance of intermission. So I ramble. I ramble incoherently about my state of being. Pondering my uncanny ability to look like a somewhat portly turtle when I move my neck just right- which I tend to in videos and pictures. Then laughing at how absurdly hyper critical I am being. Listening to dogs barking in the distance outside. Hearing the wind slithering gently across the leaves, creating a natural white noise. The summer air is crisp and quiet at night. My cat is laying on my back with his paws stretched gracefully over my shoulder blades and his face pressed into my hair and neck. Sighing cat sighs. Summer music.

In consideration of my surroundings I should be content. I try to steady my breathing. Inhale, 1, 2, 3. Exhale, 1, 2, 3. The air whistles in broken rhythm. The pressure of laying on my ribs on this stone hard mattress is evident. My mind wanders, and I do my best to maintain focus. I consider the future. I consider Evergreen. I anticipate the future; going home. After some amount of time and a fair amount of hostile and melancholy words being strung together, I am at peace with my past. For the most part. I fell in love, I fell out of love, I fell out of love with love. I became miserable. I became confused. I became angry. I reached a peaceful resolution. I spent a considerable amount of time considering the possibility of considering love. I considered love. I fell in love with love. I rambled. Without coffee it is more than likely I would be in a coma.

I have 17 days before I start living at Evergreen. In that time, I fully intend to spend at least one whole week regressing entirely. I am going to colour in colouring books with crayons. I am going to watch VHS tapes of The Fox and the Hound, Homeward Bound, The Aristocats, Milo and Otis, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, The Lion King, My Dog Skip, and Aladdin. I am going to make my bed into a sheet tent fort. I am going to eat PB&J sandwiches. I am going to wake up early on Saturday morning to watch cartoons, possibly online because they don't show the good stuff on Nickelodeon anymore. I am going to make mudpies and sit in them. I'm going to draw cats, lots of cats. I am going to play outside all day long, until it gets dark, building forts, riding bikes up and down the driveway, drawing on the driveway with chalk, climbing trees, and possibly swimming in a blue plastic pool intended for ducks- after washing it with a fair amount of bleach. I am going to beg my mom to buy Mr. Bubble bubblebath (despite risk of UTI) and sit in a bathtub overflowing with bubbles, while playing with plastic animals and pretending my torso is an island and my belly button is a pond. I am going to make a slip n' slide out of a tarp on the biggest hill in my yard and I am going to slide down it until every extremity is bruised.

I also fully intend to read my favourite books from my childhood. Island of the Blue Dolphins, The Secret Garden, Misty of Chincoteague, Black Beauty, Bridge to Terebithia, The Hobbit, Ernest Hemingway's Short Stories, and various others. This will require staying up under the covers with them propped around my head with pillows as I read with a flashlight. Seeing as I am so suddenly growing up and going to enter the "real world", I feel I should remember simpler times. A time when I didn't have to worry about financial aid and coffee. When the most essential and vital part of my existence was deciding which tree to climb first. When sleeping in my parents bed trumped going to parties, and playing with legos was a far more serious activity than standardised tests. When I had cat wallpaper, and posters that had pictures of puppies that said things like "Puppy love" and "Snuggle puppy", and unicorn sheets, and I was darned proud as I sat admiring them in my pastel pink room. I am going to regress for the sake of progress.

Letter to Burn

_____,

There are so many things I should have said to you then, so many things I wish I had asked. I don't understand you; what were your motivations with me? What compelled you to do what you did? You manipulated me, and unlike previous situations, I don't even understand to what point and purpose. What did you have to gain from me? I was an island of a soul for a reason, and you came along and built a raft. You made me trust you. Your lines were so well rehearsed. We sat back and marveled at how real it was. You told me there was simply no other way of doing things. Others have heard that line, as I found out recently. You were so charming, but it was all an act. You were so sincere, but it was a farce. You were so sweet, but it was saccharine sweetness. As I once read, "Sweet words are never sincere. Sincere words are never sweet." You lend truth to that statement.

You fell out of love with me, you say, though I doubt you were ever in love with me in light of the way you treated me. You were attentive and romantic in the beginning, it was all about me. All the while you had another girl hanging on your every word. She wasn't across the state. Convenience was your motivation. You said you didn't want to hurt me, you wanted it all to work out, when we got where we could "try and make it work". You lied to me. That day you came to see me at Wind, you lied to me. You looked into my eyes and you lied without any remorse whatsoever. You lay in the grass with my head on your chest and your steadily beating heart did not betray your motivations. You went home and saw her. I was irrelevant. I meant so little to you, you could shamelessly go to her. She meant so little to you that you could do the same to her.

Maybe it was your upbringing. Your parents vacillated between doting and leaving you. Then again, I have no idea how much of what you told me was true. You seemingly used your parents and their apparent troubles to cover for your own dishonesty. They weren't quarreling over Spring Break, you were quarreling with her. After that you immediately sought another convenient source of affirmation. It strikes me that you enjoy this game. You enjoy carelessly sweeping girls off their feet only to toss them away when they become an inconvenience. Your romantic Nihilism is unwittingly cruel.

Maybe you aren't capable of genuinely loving someone. Maybe it's horribly frustrating for you to always fall out of love unexpectedly. I don't believe that though. It seems to me that you constantly need a source of positive affirmation, someone to tell you the sun rises for you, to give you everything they have. You enjoy that feeling of power. Maybe you even enjoy the chaos that naturally follows. I hate that you are going to Evergreen. You probably haven't even told her, she thinks you're not going anymore. She thinks she'll be living with you. Or at least, that was the story last I spoke to her. How can you lie to her? I'm sure you looked her in the eyes and promised you would change, said you were sorry. I doubt you have. I doubt you will.

How many girls are you going to do this to? I won't be waiting for you at Evergreen. I never want to speak to you again. I want you to disappear. I want every ounce of pain and pleasure that you have induced to melt away. I don't want to see another girl feel the way I do right now at your hands. I can't stand to see another in this situation. I've never hated anyone in my life, but I hate you. Honesty is something I value and revere over everything in this world. You were patently dishonest. You were positively cruel. What you did was unforgivable. What you are doing is unforgivable. I can only hope that karma will repay you for the damages you have done.

Truthfully,
Chloe

Reciprocation

I don't know what love is. I've tried so many times to define it, thinking I had it, but the tables always turned back around on me. My mind is berating me currently. I don't know what I want, all I know is that sleeping alone is miserable. I hardly sleep because of it. Love is a basic human need. Even when I was sleeping alone just a few short weeks ago, I could smile softly as I drifted off, thinking there was someone- though far away- that was probably doing the same. Looking back, I question whether or not it was even real. Was it even love? I don't know anymore. At the time it felt so real, but, love blurs reality. I don't trust my own heart at the moment. It tends to betray my best interest, and I end up with a general feeling of melancholy. I am afraid. I don't trust my own judgement anymore, and I've been forced to once again redefine everything I thought I knew. The cleverly engineered structure of my ideals and ideas has been dismantled by catastrophic force again, and I am left to pick up the pieces and reforge a solid foundation. This is the sort of thing that keeps me from sleep these days. Everything is so good, the future is so bright, and yet this feeling comes creeping as soon as I am left alone with my mind.

I worry that he will do it again, to some other unsuspecting girl. He'll sweep her off her feet and then miraculously fall out of love with her when she is head over heels; and rather than confessing this to her, he'll simply seek greener pastures. Was any of it real? He never even apologised for the nightmarish ending, as he probably doesn't have the slightest notion of the effect it has had. I'm tough, to a point, but on an emotional level, especially when it comes to love, when I am wounded, I tend to stay down- though not by all appearances- for quite some time. Therein lies the danger in throwing yourself whole hearted into something on the off chance that it could be something worthwhile. I never love halfway, it's all or nothing, full disclosure, honest, true, passionate, genuine love. It wears me out. After giving all that I have for so long, and so many times, I'm down for the count. In time all wounds will heal, but currently, I have no capacity to reciprocate anything to anyone. I'm too terrified of the possibility of yet another heartbreak to throw myself back in again. Yet, I feel like I should, I feel like it's worth it, despite the risk. As John Robbins said, "We need both to receive and to give love. Love is food for our souls, and without it we suffer greatly, just as we suffer physically if we starve." I don't want to starve.

Boxes and Crates

I feel homeless. Today I packed my room up, almost entirely, into boxes. It's amazing how quickly I was able to pack 14 years worth of possessions up, and how little it really amounted to. Just a few boxes, scattered across my now open floor. I couldn't bring myself to take down all of my posters, not yet. I have 19 days, as time barrels down on me. Soon I will be at Evergreen, and I cannot wait. This weird transitional phase is nearly unbearable. I feel like I'm caught in a waiting room, and unfortunately, I recycled all the old magazines, and all the books are packed into a double milk crate. The funny thing is, I know that home is only a concept, but I have lived in this house since I was four years old, so it became home. It became that place that I longed for when I was away too long, and that I was comfortable in. It may sound silly, but the first time I set foot on campus at TESC, I felt like I was home. I didn't have to be anything but myself, and it has since been somewhere that I have constantly had a subconscious longing to be near.

That is not to say that I didn't deviate from the plan for a short while. There was a point in time where I had commited to attending UW and going into medicine. Partly to be impressive and have stability, and partly to fit in with my then present situation. In hindsight, it was all foolishness. I was worn down and ragged from years of career counsellors telling me that I had to choose a conventional career, something that would offer me stability and safety. The quizzes would indicate that I ought to go into Arts and Communications- which was a loosely used term to express that I ought to become a sell out artist, do something safe that would earn enough money to put bread on the table. After a series of hellish heartbreaks, I came to the conclusion that I had absolutely no interest in stability and financial safety. Happiness was what I sought. I wanted to be happy, in whatever destitute or prosperous pass-time I choose to pursue. I decided that living happily in my car, being creative, eating rice, and not being able to afford shoes was much more desirable than living comfortably in the suburbs, working 9 to 5 in a maze of cubicles. Human beings are not meant to live in little boxes like that. It's unnatural, and it's unhealthy. I want to see the world, experience, express, create. Going to Evergreen will allow me to marry my two passions- worded and visual expression- into something I can make a living of. Into something that will probably cause me to be eternally lower middle class and content. Something that will go hand in hand with my wander-lust, and even go as far as to promote it.

People Watching

People watching is by far one of the most entertaining activities this world has to offer- yeah, that probably makes me sound like a creeper. I'm not doing it for kicks, people are generally intriguing to me. The way that the people around me in the world act and react to the situations they are in is fascinating. Certain actions seem learned or conditioned, while others seem innate and programmed. For instance, lounging poolside today, I noted the dating and competition rituals of various other pool visitors. There was a set of three girls, who strutted in, clearly feigning confidence. They sheepishly wandered around, sticking close together as if they were glue invisibly at their stiffly carried shoulders. Acting as if they were disinterested in the pool in its entirety, and laughing amongst themselves while keenly watching the world around them to see if they were being noticed. They continued this for some time as I lounged, until they spotted two girls of roughly the same age carelessly and confidently playing in the pool. Upon seeing this competition, they moved overtly to the pool trying to out-show the other girls. When their competition went unaware of their antics, they left the pool entirely.

This whole parade seemed nonsensical to me. Had I been in this situation- which I wouldn't have been, they were acting ridiculous- I would have gone and talked to the other girls, asked to join their game. Women seem to be conditioned to compete with each other, and I simply don't want to play that game. What's the point? I can be myself happily without cutting down others in the process, it seems counter-productive. Yet the game continues, as it has for years. This girl has this, I don't have this, I want this; whether this is a boyfriend, a pretty dress, great legs, or a fantastic pair of stilettos, rather than being happy with what they have, women seem always to want something different. At least in America, women don't seem to go out of their way to compliment each other. Every other woman is competition, a threat, even friends are a threat. It doesn't make sense to me. People are people, people will do what they do, people have what they have. I don't particularly care. I have what I have and if a man isn't attracted to it over what another has, then it's not going to work out anyway. Rather than focusing on the things that they have, a lot of women are worried about what everyone else has, and what everyone else is thinking about what they have. They cut each other down to eliminate the threat. Men hit each other, women give each other eating disorders. It's a vicious game. They worry constantly about what both men and women think of them. The irony of worrying about what people think about you all the time is that they are probably thinking about what everyone else thinks about them, not about you. So why compete? Why play that game? Why worry?