Up and Down at All Hours

I have had the strangest sleep cycle for the past day and a half; I took a monstro-nap this afternoon after going to bed only 2 hours later than I normally do and getting the same amount of sleep. Now I'm here again at 12:30am wide awake and feeling kind of strange. Maybe it was listening to all that Loveline or the nerdy camera conversations with Josh, but I'm just feeling really weird.
I finished writing my letter to Chiara though, and this time it's going to be in pamphlet book form! Pictures will come later - once I've worked out how to print the pages so that it doesn't go 1, 7, 5, 3, 8... you know how it is.
Other than that, enjoy this miniature post in the middle of the night for it's promises of better (Photoshop'ed) pictures of this beaver. I have ratcheted myself up to work with Photoshop again - hence my scrambling for many many tutorials and interesting websites. Ah, the wonders that are to come!

I am grateful for...
Lenticular photographs! They're so cool... turn them one way, it's one picture, the other way, it's another! In case you don't know what I'm talking about, check out this easy tutorial on how to make them:
How to Make Lenticular Images


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Part of My Self

Not a typo, I swear.
I was just reading on GalaDarling again, and on the email updates from TUT's Adventurers Club, and I am confused. Confusion seems to be the opportune mot; I am feeling as if a continental shift must occur.
I... well. The first thing I need is to do my classic action: make a list. Then maybe I can sort out my personal confusions into easier managed bits.

List of My Self Presently:
1. I complain too much. So what if I have tons of work and there are people that annoy me, etc? It's not like I need to talk about it all the time. There are a lot of great things going on in my life as well that I should focus on more readily.
2. I am creative. Sometimes I feel as if everyone else is doing something more personally fulfilling than I am. Ka-chan has her art, there are writing classes I can't take, the boys are so much better at sports... but, seriously? I have the opportunity to sit down and write, to knit, to make collages and work on whatever I want. A varied amount of interests and a world to explore.
3. I am NOT OLD. When you're at the end of something, I think there's just this feeling of being 'old.' Coming out of high school, obviously, does not make you physically old. But there are just some telling signs that you've been around the block. I think that's part of why college seems exciting - it's a chance to be new again! But for right now, we are not old. I am not old. It is just a different circumstance than it will be in a few months.
4. I am not alone. I forget that a lot of the time because I focus on relationships in terms of intimacy. In that sense, I have no one. But there are always people to call [Heathy, Charlotte], people to hang out with [Grant, Kita], and people to make conversation with [my tennis team... haha]. So, in a way, I have become a closet optimist by remembering that there are other types of relationships out there that don't have anything to do with making out on someone's couch.
5. I am one person - and that person is not 'we.' Maybe it's from being part of a collective lately that I have treated individuality as somewhat... strange. Like it's all cool to be going to something alone or that I am just oh-so-odd to take some time for myself. No! That's the theater/tennis/class-of-2009 mentality that 'we' are all in this together. In a few months, we will no longer be together. It will be me (at college, granted, with friends, granted - but always me) that wields the power to make my own choices. And that's it.

So that's what's been confusing me lately. I believe a lot of it can change, which is nice. Change is difficult, but I've done it before and I hope to do it again - nothing gets accomplished without a little pushing.
Possible solutions that I constantly need reminding of: call friends, take a break, do something creative, knit, start a project, read, write journal entries, exercise... LIVE.

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Gorgeous

Sometimes I love the nervous energy. It fills me up with the ability to succeed, but it can also take it away in a snap. I'm not going to post any pictures until after the show because all of my creative energy seems to be unintentionally drawn to it. Instead, I am going to write a Letter to Self and hope that satisfies. Enjoy!

Dear J,
Oh, I know we've been through this all before, but I believe that there is merit in repetition. Let your soul breathe for a second. Take a deep breath deep into your chest and make everything blossom again. Let all the little words that you've said to yourself that keep you going rise up, and the negative ones, the ones that say you can't do it, sink to the bottom and disappear.
I am here with a mission. Not just to work, but to play hard and feel beautiful. To know, to understand, to create. I am here with a purpose that we can see clearly. I will finish this.
Living in the future, living for the future, perhaps it is not the greatest of ideals. I cannot deny that you are working well in the moment, rolling with the punches, but if you invested yourself even more deeply into this moment, what do you think would happen? Perhaps you would explode with all the pent up energy. Or perhaps you would learn to soar.
Either way, it's fine with me. These days and ways will pass as soon as we are capable. Let the air drag you in and out, let the breath draw you. And in the poetry of our subtext, the stuff under all the daily happenings, maybe there we will find the softness and the passion that people always seem to seek.
You are gorgeous and wonderful and sweet. You are going to do great things, save yourself, laugh with humiliation, embrace, pretend that you're embarrassed, and fail with grace. It will take a long time for you to accept that you're not just a bunch of negative space; and it will take an even longer time for you to touch that inner beauty. But we're taking baby steps right now, the little feet shuffling movements that get you into that beautiful future - with best friends on your side.

Take me away with you, when you are ready to fly,
J

I Know, I Know...

(...the picture above is one that I took in my mini-photo shoot yesterday - I just came home and I definitely don't have time to create a new one. So sue me, if thou canst!)

Here are today's highlights:
New dawn, new day, but what is to come of it? A soft rain falls from the grey-tinted sky.
We are shepherded through hallways and stairwells, governed by bells... they close our fate with the sound of a closing airplane door. Ding, ding, ding, ding...
My age wears on me today - well, I'm not sure. The negativity and criticism falls from my lips and my fingertips; words are thrown by others in a cloud of furious smoke. I wish I could take it, but four months seems like an extended torture sentence.
Am I being an angst-ridden teenager? Perhaps, yes, and definitely. I feel the crush of Speak setting down upon my waist and hips, tightening my shoulders and holding on with all possible defiance. The love from my lower back may heal us all. If only, if only...
Laughter is the only solution. Rehearsal provides the much-needed reprieve; a high school just as crazy but not so serious. Ah, if only, if only...
We glide through the water, freeze in the murk, then push ourselves forward as if we were doves on land. Aerobics without the air. Now, returning, we are land-locked and heavy. Soft thoughts and soft hands... adieu.


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Ups & Downs...

I feel. I really do.
I'm not sure why, but today has been one of changing emotions. I felt so good just to be at the end of the week and having accomplished something with my cast and having worked out most days of the week... then it came crashing down when my oral spiraled away from me and I realized there were more issues with Speak and I overate without realizing it at Dairy Queen. Oh, and my car got egged. Great, isn't it? Gah...
So, I returned home and opened my email to balance my own self and I received another TUT from the Universe. Those messages are really helpful to me - they just keep encouraging me to realize. Just to realize. To acknowledge. To hope, to dream, to understand. And, best of all, when there is something wrong, I really try to clear my head and work on it after reading one of those.
I am grateful that there are little things that make up for it. Like playing tennis for hours. And laughing with friends who really understand you. And just... feeling complete. Even when you're not because no one can ever be "complete" as it were. The world spirals into an art form, and that's where we deliver up our souls.

The picture for today is a plain one. Something that was taken yesterday amidst arm flailing and other oddities; it is my closet of wonders. What might you find?

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My Self

I wish there was a reason to cry. Because then it would make sense and I would be able to - without guilt, without fear of my own emotions. I would be able to express without thought, without judgment. But instead there is no reason. There is the sound of my breath as it moves in and out of me. There are the soft melodies and notes that make up the universe. There is the feeling of remembrance that I want both to shirk and to embrace. There are the sirens.
And the heavy weight behind my eyelids, telling me that I am about to let go, about to release... that tyrannical feeling that indicates a misplaced mood. I don't know how to explain it. I can only make metaphors to its existence. The hazy sun behind a white sky. The skinning of the raw pelt. Saying goodbye to your father for the last time.
I have no reason to cry and yet it lurks there, a pressure in my skull, the untapped desire.

I am scared that the apathy is coming back. I am scared of the depression I used to feel... the way it would make me seize up, a paralysis of thought and action. I am terrified beyond words that it might be coming back to hit me again. I didn't want the experience, but now that I know what it feels like, I want to run from it.
When I last had this feeling, my solution was life-changing. I embraced God in a way that I had previously never thought about. I gave up on the purpose of things. I just don't think I can do that again...
Please, someone, fix me.

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More writing and stories are also available for your reading pleasure.

Reflections on a Busy Life

I was listening to Barack Obama's Dreams from My Father again today, and I started to realize how all of his values have been shaped.
The messages of his campaign are quite similar to the life lessons he wrote about throughout that memoir; his beliefs as contrasted with those of Malcolm X and the ideas imparted to him by father, grandfather, mother, half-sister and workmates. And that makes me think... what will we see in retrospect?
I really want to write my dad's memoir. I don't know how, but that is what I want to do. Even if it's crappy, terrible writing and the book is short and there is nothing of real interest in it, I believe that his life needs to be put down - if not by himself, then by me.
I want to do that, in fact, with my own life as well. And my life as related to Heathy's. And whatever happens to me in the future. I am a habitual note taker, list maker and plan shaker [ah, rhyme] and I actually do want to know all the gorey details once I've passed the threshold of "youth" and moved into "adulthood."
But for right now I don't know what that means.
I am being shaped, am not yet shapen. I am as a form in wax [though Hermia may deny] with leave to be figured and disfigured as suits the whims of others. I will be disappointed, I will feel loneliness - and they will shape me. Obviously, the reverse is also true.
So for right now I will live my life, make some note on the fact that A Midsummer Night's Dream is opening tonight and I'm still throat sick but muscling through. I will recount my experiences in a character's body [Hermia] and will write down all the trials and tribulations which feel so necessary at the moment. I will find myself in the cracks between pages so that, when you put it all together, I will become whole. Like a mosaic or a house of cards, because youth is both fragile and beautiful and I want to grasp every minute of it.

No matter what, I am going to take the time out of my busy hours on Earth to record this story.

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Nexistentialism

I wrote most of this post this morning [during English class, yes, I don't care if that is incriminating] so the only thing I am going to say other than that is that I must must MUST finish my personal stuff tomorrow morning - we have school, then Speak rehearsal and then an open rehearsal for A Midsummer Night's Dream and so I won't get home till probably 9pm. Wooh...
And, as well, I am kind of embarrassed to say that I haven't been able to do as much photography in the past 2 days so I have only the stuff that I took yesterday [dramatized above] and might have to use that tomorrow. It's sad, but at least I got to be photographic heavily for the two days before! Anyway, on to the post.

As I sat with my dad at the breakfast table, he trading stocks and I shooting emails out into the wild, I was reminded of the philosophy I decided to adopt a while ago: existentialism.
But in an edited way, you know? I believe in God and I believe in the works of man, but I have decided that... none of it really matters.
The world is futile, effort as well. All has been preordained in my opinion; God is the ultimate judge.
When I was so apathetic, in the years where depression hit hardest, this gave me some purpose. Ironic, right? No purpose to make purpose.
Right now I feel I should think to that again. Breathe in, breathe out. And maybe all this stress will melt into purpose. I will make myself healthy, I will hold myself accountable.
After all, if life has no purpose, why not make the best of it?

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Drained & Lonely

It seems pretty random to me that the hot chocolate box makes specifically 39 servings. Why not 40? Or 38? Or 27? [mine actually probably did only make 27 or less, because I always add WAYYY too much powder to make it super thick]
On another, probably more important note, today was the first day of physical rehearsal for Speak. I need to find a way that people will listen to me that won't make me an extremely harsh person or lose my voice to yelling. That is the rub, isn't it? Oh well, people are having fun.
I took a nap today. It felt so good to actually get a little extra sleep... I think that my thoughts are still surfing in that mode right now because right after I put up this post I am going to climb into bed.
In a weird lucid way, I am really wondering about my future as a person. I mean, I love to do a lot of things and I want to explore a lot of different experiences and roles and whatever else; I feel like I am pent-up but at the same time not doing enough. I want to go to college and be selfish, because it really is a selfish thing to pursue exactly what you want. It's not a bad selfish. You just indulge in yourself and make everything worthwhile for you. Perhaps I am just fluff-coating it.
I don't really know what I'm saying sometimes. I think of college as a glittering metropolis of people and activities and, in a way, that was true of our summer experience. But the worries are getting to me nowadays. I just can't understand that soon enough I will never see these people again [or at least until I come for vacation, which seems really not like 'seeing' them as I do these days]. I am starting to feel really lonely and needy all the time for some random reason [Mercury is apparently in retrograde, I'm sure I could blame this on planetary alignment]. And I'm feeling hypocritical too. And unproductive.
And on top of this, I now realize that I am super critical of myself. Funny, right? I'm criticizing my hyper-critical attitude.
This is really all about me getting myself out to myself - because if I don't say it now then it's going to come out in shouting matches or axe murders or some other method of hurting people in between those two extremes. I need yoga. And sleep.
Maybe my container has exactly 39 servings and I am teetering on the edge of 37 1/2.

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Pure Emotion

Paint with the wind. I don't want to talk about today, I don't want to talk about tomorrow, I don't want to talk about the past or the present or the future. All I want to talk about is you.
Call it conceited, call it a 'burst of passion,' call it what you will but I want to find you stroking the sheets so that we can play our dangerous game. So that we can forget our names and remember that we are only children, playing in the attic and wondering how we came to be.
Let's make it happen.
I don't want to sit down or stand up, I want to sprawl - I want to fly across paint-splattered walls and divulge myself to the greatest power I have yet found on Earth. Is that you? It could be. For I have fallen amoureuse, headlong into the soft undercurrent of your heartbeat. Is that you? Ticking away at my heartstrings, bearing down with kisses on my succulent nape. It could be the victim in me, but I want you to draw blood. Perhaps then you would understand.
I don't want to talk about me, I want to talk about you.
Let's find you in the open landscape of blue crepe and feathers; the down blanket that you spread over us both has everything to do with your fair skin. Bring yourself to me, I want the challenge. I can say no or send you away but, for all eventualities, I have heard that you are one smooth talker and perhaps there is a liability issue at stake.
Let's find ourselves between powder blue sheets with nothing but our first names. Then maybe we'll have won.

(I don't want to have to think about anything today - I have spent my anger through venting and I have spent my tears. I want to fall in love with someone who will support me on my journey to find me, and maybe find themself in the spaces between. Right now, I am in the checkout line, waiting for the cashier to ring me up and send me on my way; out to the great blue yonder where I might cast my lot in another betting pool. Soon I will be saved, soon I will be saved, soon I will be saved. I am not a realist, nor an optimist, but pessimism has recently gotten me down. I turn off the newscast and forget that people exist.)

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This Day In History

This day in history is really of no consequence to anyone. As one grain of sand in the desert sprawl of time, this day is just another dry reminder that we are not really present here for long. I feel the tears rush up for all those that close their eyes for the last time today. They will not suffer any longer; they will be delivered up to Allah with all his graces and mercy. We are blessed in our lives and cannot forget that. When they are gone, we must cherish the space they made in this world, even though they are inconsequential in the instance.
I cherish my family and what I believe to be mine - my beautiful friends and lovely animals. Most of all, I cherish myself. Let the dead rest with their loved ones, and may their souls be preserved regardless of race, religion, gender, or orientation.
I will close my eyes tonight with the feeling of you in my heart.

Today was a hard day for photography.

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So... I Hit A Bump

I started watching TV again. I finished an essay draft but then felt guilty today for not producing the same result. I started knitting, realized that I was making it a task, and slumped back to watch a marathon of Mythbusters. Go figure.
But I have found a couple of interesting articles that are making me feel like I can get up again. I am going to call this day just a bump, and then get over it and work on stuff for the next week and a half with renewed vigor. Probably because I am going to put up my goals/plans on here so that whenever I click the link I know what is going on. Enjoy.
December 26th - January 5th Goals:
- Write...
- JFK essay
- HAMSA essay
- APIASF essays
- Davidson Fellows portfolio
- Edit...
- Elks essay,
- Extended Essay
- Research Investigation
- Sustainability essay
- Create...
- A Greeting Card
- Memorize...
- Midsummer
- Finish...
- French cultural project
- Jane Eyre
- Outlining Speak
- Theater reviews
- Sweater
Send...
- Letters to PCP friends
- Letter to Chiara

Amazed, Crazed, and Overly Tired

It's December 1st and I am sitting here quite amazed at the NaNo novel I just punched out of myself. 50,252 words according to the NaNo counter, 50,039 according to mine [I prefer the former]. It's the end of our 4 day break and it feels like nothing - but it was fun nothing, so I can't really complain. I am waiting on new tech, nervous about college, happy to be playing Hermia, and returning to yoga. I am feeling very good, but also ready to break out.
[Just to prepare, there will be only a few sentences that don't begin with 'I' in this post - as I am so tired of writing interesting sentences that I am going to write in simple "subject-verb-complement" form]
I realize that I complain a lot. Though I pride myself on not complaining about work, I complain about people - and even now I am trying to make excuses that I 'don't do it as much as others' or I 'am usually joking around' or I 'tell it to certain people' but I think it's a larger thing than that. I'm not sure I can get rid of it, but perhaps I am able to think about what I'm saying/repeating more?
Yoga, o' delicious yoga, brought me back to earth a little bit today. I haven't gone for a while, and so I haven't been able to soak up all the juicy wisdom that transpires in that hour and a half. {sidenote: isn't it funny that when you are busy, you cut out probably the most vital things as 'extra'?} But today, I just got to focus on me - happy me, delicious me, that me where I can love without consequence. I think that's what I lack a lot of the time. Maybe it's just in the words we use or the critical way we are assessed, but I find that I've been lacking self-love for a while. It's very important to actually be proud of yourself, and I tell other people that all the time but... sometimes the teacher doesn't take the lesson, you know?
Finally, I have decided to seek my fortune in some other gainful employment than chasing after false dreams [cryptic, right? well, at least I get it]. I am going to let drama class solve it, and I am going to let my personality decide whether it is right. That's the way to go.
Yip, yip, yoray!

Read more posts about my multiple National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) attempts and successes.

Odd Timing

Believe me, we are not created equal.
On this stepped territory, with the wind rushing through our hair, there's not a shred of doubt that misery befell us once before - and now again. Just let it wash over your skin and caress it like a shadow's past. I am unspoken, still deceitful, unforgiven. Box me up and pattern me. Make me into that hostile package of your childhood lost; an innocent rose turned thorny. If you expected it, then maybe it is true.
I don't want to be dealt your kisses like a mercy plea, I don't want to listen to the hype they pile on your shoulders and tune out to the rest of the world, I DON'T want to care when you stab yourself in the back - let me clean that up for you, maybe you'll appreciate me more that way.
I am not your prized possession, and I dare not walk that line. But, at least, acknowledge me. Make me better. Into something fit for your consumption. Bask in the fire and flames of my forgiveness: don't wall me off to the tragedy of ice. We are not business associates but living human beings. Do I have to bug you until you listen to me, or will I be heard when the floors need scrubbing?
Please don't make this a song that needs repeating. Why do I have to follow you up the steps and down, why must I 'follow' at all? You're not my master, savior, ventriloquist [giving voice to my limp tongue]. I am not your stagehand. Don't mock me with your lectures. I want to hear your sound and not your speech, no more rhetoric for me. I won't take forgiveness for this brute honesty, it's shit and you know it.
I want to be heard.

Circles

As I have said multiple times before: I want college.
Maybe if I say it enough times it'll come faster. However, in the present moment the first few weeks of high school have petered into nearly a month of the same scholastic opportunities as last year. I am feeling less stressed but also more bored as it pumps along. I feel like my whole life is spent doing homework [either getting it ahead of time or getting it on time or trying to study for something...] or counting the amount of hours that I sleep or regretting the fact that I didn't write or make time for myself today. I am sure that I am gaining weight because when I get home I'm hungry and I grab whatever is there, and I am also conflicted on whether I sleep too little or too much [because sometimes I get to bed at a reasonable hour and other times I take too many naps.] I don't know why these things worry me, but I guess that the lack of balance is throwing me off. I don't have time to run to the gym [nor do I have a car right now...] and I am trying to work as hard as I can on everything and yet still make time for me. Curse the problems of living life.
In general, I am pretty happy. Get to go to my clubs, football games, make a fool of myself... the average stuff. I just wish that I had my full freedoms and liberties allotted to me. Not even outlandish things either - I want stuff like: choosing what time I eat lunch, being able to go out late on weeknights, and seeing my friends on weekends [they never have time because they're slaves to the homework/good grades/responsibility machine - is no one ever spontaneous anymore?] Luckily, I am going to be taking a class at Hugo House soon and I think things will even out by then.
If they don't... spontaneous combustion time.

Is That Why We Do It?

As a writer, I am constantly filling up pages and pages and files and files and scraps and scraps of notes, poems, memories, paragraphs and stories. I guess I don't think about it too much at the time, because I always feel that there is something propelling me forward into the next sentence or the next line [and when I don't - a.k.a. writer's block - then I try to drudge myself out and push on into another creative form] but I just wonder, why?
Why do we always feel this need to keep filling the pages? What really is the motivation to take notes about the guy with the crumpled hat sitting next to us with a huge gash on his left arm, laughing happily as he gets off at the next bus stop? I may never know.
But, I guess, my theory so far is that it's our way of interpreting the world. Numerous times I have told myself that without writing I would probably explode, or implode, or something catastrophic like that. Even when everything seems quite ludicrous, I take up pen and paper and develop some sort of scenario far better than myself. In the end, my only purpose is to write.
When I was younger - working diligently on a novel or trying to learn my craft without the fear of rejection - I was much more eager to show the world. I guess that kind of changed when I discovered a. that what I was writing wasn't very good, b. that there are a lot of things I wouldn't share with anyone, and c. that sometimes it's just fine to leave the words on the page. I've recently picked up my favorite writing mentor's (Monica Wood) new sequel to The Pocket Muse and it has really helped me out of a few jams. Just thinking that I am pretty young and all these experiences are part of my life as a writer: they don't have to be public property yet.
I was just thinking about it today, for no reason, but I guess the reason I write is to timidly set down my inhibitions. In a lot of ways, it helped me grow up and grow out, and I guess that the only gift I can give back is to keep putting words down.
I was actually wondering if I could finish every story fragment I had ever written and, well, I realized it was quite impossible.
So, I guess my goal this year [and hopefully every year] is... to actually finish something. Anything. Anything at all that seems to feel right then, right now. It's time to stop worrying about the future.

Craft Crazy

Alright, I admit it. I've gone completely insane.
I was walking around Bumbershoot with Ka-chan yesterday and [instead of just looking in wonder at the peoples' amazing crafts for sale] I started thinking. I thought about all the ways that I might do some of these things myself - with stuff we just have lying around the house.
So, since last night, I have been on a mission to find the most interesting and useful recycled craft ideas out there. I've accumulated a lot of sites and a big list of things I would like and things I have to use [the biggest inspiration was my closet full of stuffed animals, after a while it just seems that they're too cluttering and need a makeover].
After my T-shirt massacre, I feel that I need to branch out and do some other interesting things - hopefully that will create useful [and maybe salable] items for this year. Thankfully, it also fits into my monetary plan and improve-J-through lessons plan.
Something else to note, Ramadan begins tomorrow.

Back Home Again

I have arrived home after a week and a half of our two-person crazy fest. Shouting/taking pictures/watching Current TV/dancing/clashing over musical tastes/changing clothes 50 bajillion times/talking until late hours about everything - that was the vacation time. I think we got a little bit on each other's nerves, but that's probably because I'm more surly than she...
But, no matter! Now that I am back home, Heathy's in school, and I am furiously trying to beat procrastination to a pulp [I know this is an old story, but it must be said in order to make me feel responsible for it]. I am currently working on all the college essay material that I have. I will finish this stuff by the time school starts - but I have no idea about my scholarship applications or anything else. At least I have five more days.
Other than that, has anyone noticed how hard it is to find a one-piece women's swimsuit for a reasonable price? It's all bikinis and tankinis and whatever else, but no one has a frickin' one-piece suit. I have gone to as many as 8 places by now and everything is just heinously expensive or nonexistent *grumble*.
On another other note, the Democratic National Convention has inspired me to be more involved with internal politics. I am usually informed, but not invested in, national news while international and scientific are my fields of choice. When I heard Bill Clinton last night it was amazing and just made me feel proud to be an American - which I haven't been able to say in a pretty long time [perhaps ever...].
The world is coming to an end! And, when it does, we'll be singing.
"It's too late, we're gonna dieeee..."

Exquisite Intentions

Heathy and I have been palling around the mud huts for days now, and it is quite entertaining and also quite infuriating. Mainly because of things that are out of our control. Like money, trains, and clothing sizes.
It's interesting to be here, in the same house [which has been vastly improved, I would say, cleanliness-wise] and with the same things breathing down our necks. I had a strange stitch of wanting for home yesterday night, thinking about how clutter in my house to this magntude would probably send me seizuring but how it seems to be improvement here. I got particularly repulsed by the kitchen - which just disturbs me because of the rotting fruit. But it's not like this place is bad, it's just that I am a sort of clean freak (didn't know that until just recently - I literally wanted to start mucking out the pots and pans).
On the other side of it, the money is still a constant problem in Heathy's house. And her parents are really good at putting stuff off so that there is less money and more hassle later on - similar to our government. But that, I think, is a character flaw. As well, the town is a hard sell for me. People and location are the equivalent of my worst nightmare: clique-ish, suburban, and horridly dry at times.
However, this bitching has just been wallowing in my stomach lately without outlet. It's hard not to be optimistic here because of Heathy's personality of intense idealism. Though she gets sad at times, I admire her strength in feeling ok about living here. For myself, it makes me appreciate my own city and situation - and want to improve upon it by saving cash.
Next year will be another year of figuring out who I am. This year [as I talk to myself in that strange way, as if I were an outsider in my own head-office] we have found out my interests, weaknesses, needs for improvement, strengths, and malfunctions. Next year, it will be time for us to take this information to the next level and really bring me out into the open. I feel much less scared than when I started this blog [which, although it was not that long ago, I can read back and see exactly how hard it was for me to open up].
For now, it's back to the living with love in our hearts and idealism in our heads - a new but startlingly interesting subject for me.

Which Cows Should We Use?

Though it is unnecessary to explain what the above title means, I thought I'd acknowledge that Heathy and I are crazy enough to want to take cows all the way back to New York. It might work... ya never know.
I should probably be working on things, but something about the contagious 'it is summer' attitude just hit me. A little late, but probably because in NY we were always doing something. Now all I want to do is sit at home and take long walks and paint my nails red. I guess it's some type of existence. But, what I've been doing with all this time at home nonsense is I've been making grand plans again. So! I now have both a financial and environmental plan for our lives next year. I am already having talks with the Man In Charge (Da) and he approves mostly. Perhaps there are some quirks to hammer out, but that will be for later.
My financial plan consists of closing off all frivolous spending, such as outside food, accessories such as books and clothing, and gas for the car. In this way, we will save money for the essentials like fixed computers and house repairs (as an added benefit, bike riding tones the legs!). As well, I am going to stipend myself on going out to places and doing things that cost money while simultaneously attempting to get a job. In this way, my preparation for college should be much easier - and I won't blow all my cash once I get there.
My environmental plan is not yet fully developed, but our first step will be to become completely bag-less. I can easily use scrap yarn to knit bags for us [and there are attractive patterns on Knitty] as well as the multitude of reusable tote bags given out by/really cheap at different establishments. Along with driving less, giving away/moving out inutile items [like clothing never worn, things that take up space], and buying organic, I think we will move to the next step in environmental ness.
These are all things to lead us to a better life and better world because, frankly, we need to start taking measures into our own hands. We don't need all this stuff and we certainly don't need to pile on more while a. wasting money and b. not using it. Hopefully things will work out and I can go to college already trained to work on these same factors.
See? Sometimes my grand schemes are LOGICAL [alongside these same schemes are the 'finish all your work in the next two weeks' and 'lose weight' plans however...]
I have successfully stopped biting my nails by the way, I consider this a big step in hygienic living.