The chapter of my life as documented in this blog has closed. But I will continue documenting at this new home:
www.brightblueday.blogspot.com
2 years ago
Monday, April 20, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Some themes from my Twitter:
- Anti- republican rhetoric
- Commentary on the current weather
- wistful thoughts about music and nature
- College oddities
- Political thoughts as they pertain to the classes I am in.
It makes me smile that people actually want to befriend me after all of this.
- Anti- republican rhetoric
- Commentary on the current weather
- wistful thoughts about music and nature
- College oddities
- Political thoughts as they pertain to the classes I am in.
It makes me smile that people actually want to befriend me after all of this.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
One More Season
After this summer I am transferring to a local college in the Philadelphia area. I've been having a hard time with this decision, because in essence, I have to return to the small town where I grew up.
When I started this blog in September, it was so I would have a place to put my thoughts about my anxiety. Of course, through the year the worst of it never made its way onto here, because I was having a hard enough time living with it. Having to read about it or allow the few people who read this blog AND know me in reality understand the true extent of the issue just seemed like too much to deal with, on top of everything else. It still is.
My anxiety has basically made it impossible for me to function when I am in the New York area. There were days where I just wouldn't go to class, because having to get out of bed just felt like too much to deal with. I come home every weekend because most of the time its the only time I can relax enough to feel semi-normal. My body needs the two or three day rest from the ridiculous amount of stress and panic I put it through during the week.
Because of this, I applied to a local college as a commuter student. Not that I am largely opposed to dorming, but because the original consideration towards this transfer was to make the college expenses easier to handle.
I am disappointed that I'm going to have to live at home. Of course, I miss my family and my friends and I enjoy myself here immensely. But living by my own schedule, worrying about feeding myself and buying my own groceries and learning how to cook using a microwave and how to unclog a sink and clean bathrooms and make a schedule and take public transportation- these are all things that I got to feel good at. I got a taste of living by myself. And the realization that I'm going to have to move back to my childhood bedroom under my parent's roof, as great as my parents are, is frustrating. The realization that I have to do this because of my own personal weakness and mental illness is even more crushing, because I feel as if I should have seen it coming.
Of course, by moving back home I'll be able to find a steady job, and use the closeness and consistency of Philadelphia to my advantage. Hopefully within a few years I will have saved up enough money to move out (because the original plan has fallen flat) and I'll manage to live nearby, and re-obtain the ability to take care of myself.
Until then, I have to work on this new issue. I have to learn to live with an anxiety that has the ability to disrupt my daily life. Moving back home and transferring feels like I'm giving up right now, but I have to be honest to myself and recognize that graduating is more important than taking the next six years to attempt to get an education while I battle with myself. Its a shitty realization, but there isn't all that much that I can realistically do about it.
When I started this blog in September, it was so I would have a place to put my thoughts about my anxiety. Of course, through the year the worst of it never made its way onto here, because I was having a hard enough time living with it. Having to read about it or allow the few people who read this blog AND know me in reality understand the true extent of the issue just seemed like too much to deal with, on top of everything else. It still is.
My anxiety has basically made it impossible for me to function when I am in the New York area. There were days where I just wouldn't go to class, because having to get out of bed just felt like too much to deal with. I come home every weekend because most of the time its the only time I can relax enough to feel semi-normal. My body needs the two or three day rest from the ridiculous amount of stress and panic I put it through during the week.
Because of this, I applied to a local college as a commuter student. Not that I am largely opposed to dorming, but because the original consideration towards this transfer was to make the college expenses easier to handle.
I am disappointed that I'm going to have to live at home. Of course, I miss my family and my friends and I enjoy myself here immensely. But living by my own schedule, worrying about feeding myself and buying my own groceries and learning how to cook using a microwave and how to unclog a sink and clean bathrooms and make a schedule and take public transportation- these are all things that I got to feel good at. I got a taste of living by myself. And the realization that I'm going to have to move back to my childhood bedroom under my parent's roof, as great as my parents are, is frustrating. The realization that I have to do this because of my own personal weakness and mental illness is even more crushing, because I feel as if I should have seen it coming.
Of course, by moving back home I'll be able to find a steady job, and use the closeness and consistency of Philadelphia to my advantage. Hopefully within a few years I will have saved up enough money to move out (because the original plan has fallen flat) and I'll manage to live nearby, and re-obtain the ability to take care of myself.
Until then, I have to work on this new issue. I have to learn to live with an anxiety that has the ability to disrupt my daily life. Moving back home and transferring feels like I'm giving up right now, but I have to be honest to myself and recognize that graduating is more important than taking the next six years to attempt to get an education while I battle with myself. Its a shitty realization, but there isn't all that much that I can realistically do about it.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
A Drama
Scene Opens: I'm standing in the dining hall by the toast maker. I have a plate of bacon on the counter, because I wanted more, and then decided that I wanted toast too. Once again, my toast didn't come out of the toaster, because someones bagels are stuck at the top of the shaft. Enter M, who asks me what happened.
Me: "Someones bagels are stuck, so my toast didn't come out."
M: "Oops, those are mine!"
He then proceeds to whirl around me with his tray, effectively propelling his potatoes all over the floor.
M: "Look what you made me do!" He says, with sarcasm.
Me: "Oh, sorry." I say, aware that he's kidding and more occupied with retrieving my toast from the 3-million degree machine of fiery metal than this kid's chit-chat methods.
M: "I'm not reaching up there. Its hot." He says this as he reaches into the toaster. I watch, because breakfast theatre is hard to come by these days. That and I really want my damn toast.
He gets his bagels, dragging them down the shaft using my toast. When they land on the serving portion of the tray, he picks up his bagels, and puts them on my plate. Then he stands there, confused, because obviously what is on my plate is not what was on his, and he is trying to figure out the exchange rate of growth from eggs into bacon.
M: "This is your plate."
Me: "Yeah."
He slides his bagels onto his own plate. Then he turns to the toaster, where my cinnamon-raisin toast awaits. Then he touches the toast and somehow manages to flip a piece onto the floor. I pick it up, and throw it away. As I go, he calls after me.
M: "You deserved that!"
I laugh because really, its too early for this breakfast insanity. I put new, untouched pieces of bread in the toaster, get my toast, and return to the table where my roommate is eating french toast sticks.
Roommate: "I saw you flirting with that guy!"
Me: "I wasn't flirting!"
Roommate: "Sure."
Me: "Yeah, the wedding is in six months. Let me tell ya!"
We joke for a few minutes about stupid shit, until a voice at the table behind us grabs our attention. Its Bagel boy, what a shock.
M: "Man, I hate sitting alone!" He says this while looking at us.
Me: "Then sit here." I told him, not particularly caring about the outcome but deciding that he would be talking incessantly to us ANYWAY. And it would be easier to eat if he was doing so NEXT to us.
M: "But then I'd have to move!" He complains, while he picks up his tray and slides in next to me. "I usually sit with random people, but its easier to do at round tables, not square ones like these. I would have had to squeeze past you without permission and it would have been weird."
An hour passes. The conversation ranges from weird, to awkward, to hilarious and outrageous. He's either trying intensely hard to impress us, or he really is irrevocably odd. I swear that I've heard some of the things he's saying before, and at one point I realize he's quoting almost directly from Demetri Martin. But when he's called out on it, he seems more excited that we recognized it than ashamed at being pegged for unoriginal.
It was a weird breakfast.
Me: "Someones bagels are stuck, so my toast didn't come out."
M: "Oops, those are mine!"
He then proceeds to whirl around me with his tray, effectively propelling his potatoes all over the floor.
M: "Look what you made me do!" He says, with sarcasm.
Me: "Oh, sorry." I say, aware that he's kidding and more occupied with retrieving my toast from the 3-million degree machine of fiery metal than this kid's chit-chat methods.
M: "I'm not reaching up there. Its hot." He says this as he reaches into the toaster. I watch, because breakfast theatre is hard to come by these days. That and I really want my damn toast.
He gets his bagels, dragging them down the shaft using my toast. When they land on the serving portion of the tray, he picks up his bagels, and puts them on my plate. Then he stands there, confused, because obviously what is on my plate is not what was on his, and he is trying to figure out the exchange rate of growth from eggs into bacon.
M: "This is your plate."
Me: "Yeah."
He slides his bagels onto his own plate. Then he turns to the toaster, where my cinnamon-raisin toast awaits. Then he touches the toast and somehow manages to flip a piece onto the floor. I pick it up, and throw it away. As I go, he calls after me.
M: "You deserved that!"
I laugh because really, its too early for this breakfast insanity. I put new, untouched pieces of bread in the toaster, get my toast, and return to the table where my roommate is eating french toast sticks.
Roommate: "I saw you flirting with that guy!"
Me: "I wasn't flirting!"
Roommate: "Sure."
Me: "Yeah, the wedding is in six months. Let me tell ya!"
We joke for a few minutes about stupid shit, until a voice at the table behind us grabs our attention. Its Bagel boy, what a shock.
M: "Man, I hate sitting alone!" He says this while looking at us.
Me: "Then sit here." I told him, not particularly caring about the outcome but deciding that he would be talking incessantly to us ANYWAY. And it would be easier to eat if he was doing so NEXT to us.
M: "But then I'd have to move!" He complains, while he picks up his tray and slides in next to me. "I usually sit with random people, but its easier to do at round tables, not square ones like these. I would have had to squeeze past you without permission and it would have been weird."
An hour passes. The conversation ranges from weird, to awkward, to hilarious and outrageous. He's either trying intensely hard to impress us, or he really is irrevocably odd. I swear that I've heard some of the things he's saying before, and at one point I realize he's quoting almost directly from Demetri Martin. But when he's called out on it, he seems more excited that we recognized it than ashamed at being pegged for unoriginal.
It was a weird breakfast.
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