Sunday, November 18, 2007

Eventual. Gradual.

"Say it's alright, have a good time, cause it's alright, yeah, it's alright."
Since I got to college I have found these words to be true several times. However, College wants to conquer me with it's hard times, bad roommates, bad food, lack of God, and many fewer friends than I had in high school.
What did I expect college to be? I expected a new start, which I got (but what did I make of it?). I expected good food, like the stuff my mom makes, which I didn't get (nobody could ever cook as well as my mom). I expected an awesome job, and I suppose that the theatre is awesome, but the job I have sucks (I sit around in a metaphorical box all day). I expected a HUGE amount of friends, and more interesting, conversation-based classes. I got a couple more interesting, none are more conversationally oriented. I expected to go to bed at a decent hour. FAT CHANCE. Hence, what I am still doing up at 7:00 in the morning. I haven't slept all night because I had an anxiety attack at 3:00 in the morning, I started cleaning, and I am just now finishing up. I expected a peaceful living situation. One in which my roommate was mature, and had compromising abilities. I have a single upperclassman that I know that I can depend on, and several friends off and on campus that I can rely on for advice and a shoulder to lean on. I expected to dive into all the activities I could. I have a radio show out of the ten clubs I started out with. I expected to leave behind feelings for my lost beau. Unfortunately, that didn't happen either.
I didn't expect math to be hard. I didn't expect the loneliness. I didn't expect so much freedom. I didn't expect to be so broke. I didn't expect to run out of meal points. I didn't expect to breakdown crying five times over a period of two days. I didn't expect suicidal thoughts.

And for those of you who have just finished reading this and who are about to tell me that everything will be okay, I know. I don't need telling again, because I've been told several times. And yes, it has sunk in. I will be okay... eventually.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Home Is Where the Heart Is

To begin with, let us speak on the definition of the word "home":

1 a: one's place of residence : domicile b: house
2: the social unit formed by a family living together
3 a: a familiar or usual setting : congenial environment; also : the focus of one's domestic attention b: habitat
4 a: a place of origin ; also : one's own country b: headquarters
5: an establishment providing residence and care for people with special needs
6: the objective in various games; especially : home plate

Personally, I don't agree with any of these definitions. Coming to college has changed my perspective of the word greatly. Everyone keeps speaking of the rapidly approaching Christmas Break, and how they get to return home. I still have not decided as to whether or not I'm excited to return. A wise woman once said, "Not every place you live will be your home. Like M.V. was not home for me, even though I lived there for several years. Some places are just resting places; places you happen to pass through on your journey through life."

I have come to the realization that W. is not my home yet, nor do I expect it to be. It still has the potential to become such. But as of now, it hasn't happened, nor is it happening. I have friends here. Or, to put a finer point on it, I have the qualities of friendship without the love that comes with friendship. And I definitely don't have the family love here. D.H. lives nearby, but not near enough to visit every weekend. I also have work, hobbies, homework, food, and Jones soda. All the elements of a home, and yet it really is not my home.

Then I look back. Look back at what I left behind in little old S.W: D.T.O. (the guy I loved), K.S. (who moved to California anyways), H.T. (who I wasn't really that close with to begin with), S.S, my family, and some others.
Next question: who out of those people speak to me through the internet, or call me here at college? And who do I have to call?
H.T. communicates with me part of the time. D.T.O. and I had a hard time when I left, so we don't speak much, and when we do, it's me calling him. K.S. and my mom are really the only people I talk to who call me as much as I call them. We talk on a regular and frequent basis, and I think that those two, and the rest of my family are the only people/things that I have left there. And K.S. doesn't even live there anymore.

W. isn't my home, S.W, we can conclude, isn't really home anymore. Therefore, we can further conclude that I really am "homeless" in a figurative sense of the word. Makes me feel alone in this world.

So, the final question, I think, is: am I excited to go "home" for break?
What reason do I have to be exited? Many of my friends at home don't talk to me on a regular basis, so I probably won't see them for the time that I will be there. The one's that do talk to me, I will probably see a few times, we'll probably hang out, get caught up and whatnot. Or maybe I'll just end up working through my whole break. Drown my loneliness with business, and maybe be distracted, if only to forget for a moment how alone I feel, with the purpose of making it hurt less when I return to W.

Thursday, November 08, 2007


So, other than the person I recently gave this URL to, I doubt I have any readers left. I hope that soon improves, as the angst in my life has returned in the form of college. Homework stress (and the fact that I'm posting a blog right now probably doesn't help that), boy stress (which will probably go away on its own, eventually), and roommate stress (apparently I have some things wrong with me that I didn't know about before I came here. But see, she leaves the door open ALL THE TIME. The door to the outside? Where it's cold? And then SHE LEAVES THE ROOM... Is it just me or is there something wrong with this picture? Oh, and the zits have decided to take over my face. No matter what I do, they don't go away. Ever. Just gotta love adolescence and all the lovely things that come with it.
More later. I have a killer poem that I haven't typed up yet. And hopefully there wont be a nine month delay in between this post and my last. (I promise I wasn't pregnant.)