tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8676036524955418932024-03-13T05:18:15.035-07:00The Rhyme and the ReasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger230125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-29751868037066465262012-05-27T10:39:00.000-07:002012-05-27T10:39:49.478-07:00Things I don't know.Am. I. Good enough?<br />
<br />
Writing is one of those professions that usually takes people years and years to get into. There's college, then MFA programs, then the actual getting published thing. Other people stumble upon it later in life because they realize they have stories to tell that need to be heard. But for some reason, I, Amanda Coats, 20 year old student, am compelled to believe that now is my time to sink or swim. To go big or go home. To get out of the kitchen if it turns out that mine is a cold dish.<br />
<br />
And for the longest time that scared me beyond belief. Because, writing is the only thing that has ever really felt like it was mine. Like it defined me in all the ways that I didn't mind and none of the ways that I did.<br />
<br />
And now, I'm just going for it. I'm holding my breath, and jumping in.<br />
<br />
I went to this reading put on by other creative writing undergrads last week, and it was a bit of a wake up call.<br />
<br />
<i>What if know one likes what I have to write?</i><br />
<i>Oh my god how did that person come up with that that's amazing.</i><br />
<i>I take so long to edit I could never get something that polished.</i><br />
<i>All my ideas suuuuuuuuuck.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
And as easy as it would be for me to just move on, to try something "practical" and make lots of money and study something that people find "useful", I can't. I just can't deny such a fundamental piece of myself. I have to do this.<br />
<br />
And as much as I'm afraid of finding out that I'm not good enough, I have to try. I just have to.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-3914481671250948162012-03-24T22:10:00.000-07:002012-03-24T22:10:53.216-07:00Quarter in ReviewThe quarter is finally over.<br />
<br />
I'm feeling pretty good at this point. This has been my hardest school session so far, but I think I handled it well. Things will just get harder the closer I get to graduation, so I guess I should get used to it. I'm trying not to get too excited yet - I'll let myself relax (or not) when final grades come out. <br />
<br />
This quarter has been a lot different from the last one. I feel like I've grown closer to different people, and distanced from some people that I didn't expect to. I've been working harder in classes, I've surprised myself and been thoroughly disappointed a few times too. I think if anything this quarter has been a lesson in expectations. Too often I come up with expectations of what I want to happen or what I think should happen, and about 80 percent of the time these plans don't develop the way I want them too. It's silly, I guess, to get so invested in the way things aren't or the way I want them to be, but I don't really know how not too. I see my life, and I see how beautiful it is, but I can't help but see the things that aren't there at the same time. I almost think that all of my problems would be solved if I could learn to let go of a few things, but I love them too much. I somehow got this weird idea in my head that one day I will wake up and things will be easy, that they'll be fixed. I know this doesn't really happen, but doesn't it? Sometimes I look around and just think, "doesn't it?" . Life hinges in moments, but I guess even the universe isn't that good. But I'm working through things as best as I can. And I really am happy, honest. I'm just trying to take care of some loose ends.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-67959810803283826642012-03-05T16:10:00.001-08:002012-03-05T16:11:55.420-08:00It's in the air.Nostalgia gives way to potential,<br />
<br />
The homey homely to the imagined image -<br />
<br />
The things that buzz, drunk on desires,<br />
<br />
Granting glances at what may only be guessed at.<br />
<br />
They move freely and happily between<br />
<br />
What may only be traversed through pain.<br />
<br />
These are my fireflies; palm trees by day, neon by night.<br />
<br />
You can try and kill them if you like,<br />
<br />
But it’s more than them you’ll have to reckon with.<br />
<br />
Vision is almost as flimsy as thought<br />
<br />
And neither may die, only move, only hope, only cry,<br />
<br />
Gilded with the shadow of membrane that curves <br />
<br />
around what is hidden by ivory and wine<br />
<br />
and what gains passage on the wind.<br />
<br />
The paths I’m peddling towards,<br />
<br />
Map-less and blind, lie somewhere in between.<br />
<br />
So I’ve been told.<br />
<br />
<br />
*For reals post later this week, hopefully.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-54696271895541915022012-01-31T12:07:00.001-08:002012-02-25T20:06:57.925-08:00The reversal.Everyone wants to say what I am<br />
bolts and screws holding together<br />
bits of flesh and glue<br />
stretched over squirming things<br />
and veins and lungs<br />
my own little park living in my chest<br />
and growing and creeping<br />
past my bounds, where my skin hugs it in<br />
so persistent it starts to poke<br />
through my eyes and through my nose<br />
pores leaking bits of blood and hope<br />
until I'm a bloated mess of things and thoughts<br />
the pieces people have thrown away<br />
and couldn't get enough of.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm outside in<br />
and inside out<br />
here with my insides<br />
ugly and purple and wet<br />
perfect and content<br />
existing in wholeness<br />
with the pieces you've never seen<br />
and the parts my heart can't help but beat.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-85046674544834764152012-01-30T12:21:00.000-08:002012-01-30T12:23:07.798-08:00Paint by numbers.Sometimes, I become so utterly devoted to an idea that I frame my whole consciousness around it. Not purposely, of course. It's like when you read a really good book. While you're reading it you just can't help but see the rest of the "real world" through that vane. The shade of the narrative voice echos in your own, it casts a new kind of light on the things you see around you.<br />
<br />
Of course, you eventually finish the book. Maybe the coloration lingers for a little while, but you eventually forget. The world reverts back to its old ways and the only voice you hear is your own (unless, you know, you're crazy). It's kind of like that with ideas, too. When I say that I am an idealist, I don't mean that I have this overly optimistic view of the world, because i don't. I am an idealist in that when an idea pops into my head I become attached to it. it colors my world just like a really good book does. The only difference is, that the loss of this new form of sight isn't mutual.<br />
<br />
The idea of a book might turn away from you, but you also turn away from it. You close the book, put it on the shelf, and leave it for someone else to read. With ideas, it's never that simple, and I'm starting to feel some ideas I've held onto for the past couple of months pull away from me. They are siphoning their color from my world before I've remembered how to see in my own shades. And even if this reality is forcing my to kill the ideal of the idea, I just can't bring myself to kill the sentimentality associated with it. And I can't stand the idea that someday someone might pick it up and read it for themselves.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-20982978708942210092012-01-21T18:09:00.000-08:002012-01-21T18:09:56.936-08:00Dealing With ItSometimes, when I am feeling a little off, I just sort of let myself wallow in the sheer unfavorable-ness of what ever is bothering me (I say unfavorable and not bad because, if I'm being frank, I find bad to be kind of a useless term. It's lost it's punch. It makes everything sound like an exaggeration. With unfavorable, there's no pretension. No expectation that what you are going through is fundamentally worse than everyone else.).<br />
<br />
It should be obvious, of course, that wallowing doesn't actually accomplish much, unless you consider the frantic introspective ravings of a 20 something who is way too self-reflective for her own good and the tragic loss of a half dozen cookies or so to be "much". But, somehow I've got it in my head and in my heart that wallowing is something I need, nay, deserve to do every now and then. I guess that makes sense in a weird twisted way. For someone who is consitently know as being icy, tightly woud, and uncomunicative, submitting totally to self-sorrow kind of helps me remember that I'm life. It's almost as if hating my life reminds me that I have a life - at least a life beyond a single dimension of "somewhat satisfied can't complain" - ness.<br />
<br />
But the biggest problem I have with wallowing (despite the fact that I find it to be a very vain practice. Think about it, what could be more selfish than preoccupying your consciousness with how bad <u>your</u> life is.) is the fact that it only breeds more wallowing. Once you allow it passage through your mind, it is almost impossible to stop. trust me, I know.<br />
<br />
I've only managed to find one other way of dealing with myself when things go bad. It doesn't solve any problems, it accomplishes even less than the first, but some how i always find it the most satisfying of the two. In short, I trivialize my problems. I make them the requisit tragic scene of some woefully hopeful movie that I apparently have been starring in my whole life. I turn them into laundry. I turn them into marathons of painfully bad tv shows. I turn them into the necessary "dark period" of my life, the suffering that all the greats go through, and will likewise spurn my rise to stardom as the next great American novelist. And today, I turned them into Otis Redding and Solomon Burke.<br />
<br />
Because if they can sound so happy singing about heart break, why can't I?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-9080953013101600462012-01-12T10:45:00.000-08:002012-01-12T10:45:31.144-08:00Things latelyhaven't been the greatest. The self doubt, self criticism that I left behind me at the end of last quarter have bubbled back up to the surface of my day to day remarkably fast. My life has so much potential to be so good - and most of the time it is - but the see-saw of it all is unnerving, exhausting, and I fear worst of all, unavoidable.<br />
<br />
It seems like these past few days have been calling me to come to terms with , or at least recognize a few of the things that I have done my best to forget about. Bringing them back out hurts, but I can only hope that this period of pain and frustration can be followed with one of comfort, joy, and - dare I say it - constancy. <br />
<br />
I need to get back to this, to getting it all out.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-27488031314528196682011-12-21T09:39:00.000-08:002011-12-21T09:39:41.385-08:00I have this weird little quirk.<br />
<br />
Well, I have many quirks, but there is one in particular that's been on my mind lately. <br />
<br />
I am fundamentally inept at letting the people who are important to me know how important they really are. I think it has something to do with not wanting to come off too enthusiastic, or being afraid that these feelings wont be reciprocated, of not knowing how to show it, or of just coming across as "emotional".<br />
<br />
Because, the people who are most important to me are the obvious ones, but they are also some of the people you would never guess. People I don't talk to everyday, or don't know the best. These people may never realize how much they mean to me, and that's a shame. <br />
<br />
But that doesn't mean that they stop being important, and that doesn't mean that I don't wish everyday that I could come up with a way of letting them know.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-50031936776571032992011-11-30T12:54:00.000-08:002011-11-30T12:54:21.733-08:00FreezeEvery now and then, only not as frequently as that phrasing makes it sound, I will have a moment - an instence - of pure contentment. A moment where I think, if I could just freeze time, if I could just live and re-live this moment for the rest of existence, I would be happy. I remember the first time I had this thought, at least the first time in my semi-adult existence, and I remember most of them that have happened since. They're all different. Some seem a little silly, others, idyllic. Almost all naive. But I can still remember the ways these moments made me feel, the assurance, the relief they offered.<br />
<br />
It's funny to think how, if I had had my way, I could be stuck under a tree in the rain, or staring contentedly at someone I used to know so well, or looking up at a set of bright stadium lights.<br />
<br />
But living in any one of these would have meant missing out on every other moment that followed. It would mean I would be perpetually 16 and happy, or 17 and confident, or anything else that I have been. But it would also mean being nothing that I am.<br />
<br />
Because I can't be anything other than the product of my troubles, finding refuge in the light of my days. I don't know how. And I'm okay with that.<br />
<br />
More than okay.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-61748301564864353632011-11-15T16:44:00.000-08:002011-11-15T16:44:03.363-08:00SeasonsI was once told that there is a seasonality to life beyond the changing of the natural world around us - in our attitudes, relationships, and thoughts. Lately, this has been proving itself true in my life. The easiest way for me to describe the past couple weeks of my life is as being <em>hot and cold</em>. One minute I'm excelling, the next I'm stressing. One day I'm everyone's friend, the next I'm feeling like no one cares. <br />
<br />
Each morning I wake up at 7 to get ready for class, and everyday while I'm riding the bus I have this moment where I catch a glimpse of the sun really beginning to start to poke through the morning fog with some force, and I have this momentum inside of me to <em>live</em> and be happy doing it. And then, bit by bit through out the day, little pieces of that fall away and are replaced by the obstacles that cross my path, and by the end of the day sleep feels like my closest friend. And it's exhausting.<br />
<br />
It seems like consistency is the hardest thing to find in life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-28988048475966113352011-11-14T08:21:00.001-08:002011-11-14T08:21:41.218-08:00Dear Slimfast,How can you taste so decent, yet smell so ridiculously gross?<br />
<br />
I don't get it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-32880202198656569402011-10-28T10:41:00.000-07:002011-10-28T10:41:04.128-07:00CopingYesterday, I found out that someone I went to high school with killed himself. I was never super close with him, but he was always in my classes and was in general a pretty cool, talented guy. Although, to be honest, I haven't paid him much thought in a while.<br />
<br />
But now, he's all I can think about. How long he's wanted to do it. How he did it. What things would have been like if we had been close in high school. What his friends and family must feel. How I would feel. What I would do if it were someone really close to me.<br />
<br />
And it's messing me up.<br />
<br />
For some reasons that I don't understand, and for some that I don't feel like talking about here.<br />
<br />
But it's hanging over me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-6604414921383712772011-10-27T13:57:00.000-07:002011-10-27T13:58:10.075-07:00CellI’m trapped by your lock and key<br />
<br />
That you’ve hidden within me<br />
<br />
Somewhere where my hands can’t reach<br />
<br />
In a cavity my nails can’t carve out<br />
<br />
Sitting there, existing<br />
<br />
Beating, with your pulse<br />
<br />
That traps me<br />
<br />
More than metal, more than iron<br />
<br />
It breathes as you breathe<br />
<br />
It beats as you beat;<br />
<br />
You’re locked with it<br />
<br />
Locked with me<br />
<br />
Distanced by the flesh and blood and bone<br />
<br />
That I can’t remove<br />
<br />
That you can’t escape<br />
<br />
Because your trap for me<br />
<br />
Is my trap for you <br />
<br />
So now we exist<br />
<br />
Solitarily jailed<br />
<br />
Together.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-49932097025583627622011-10-19T14:06:00.000-07:002011-10-19T14:06:18.322-07:00Don't Breathe.I've got you here<br />
in my lungs<br />
compressed and rebelling<br />
the repression of my ribs<br />
of my bones<br />
and the things that know<br />
what you're doing here<br />
but can't let it out<br />
can't let you out -<br />
to swallow me whole<br />
to keep me in your lungs<br />
the prisoner to you that I'm already becoming<br />
the words and the thoughts that are already shoving -<br />
now in my eyes<br />
who have learned how to see you differently<br />
jailed by my skull<br />
by my bones<br />
while you have learned<br />
to consume me like I consumed you.<br />
heavy and whole<br />
fogging up our insides<br />
and waiting<br />
praying<br />
for both of us to breatheUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-10819014839007348012011-10-18T10:31:00.000-07:002011-10-18T10:31:06.246-07:00Musica<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Here's what I can't get out of my head at the moment.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/upnTg2GPgTM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/2XY3AvVgDns?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/hfDTkxV-X2w?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><a name='more'></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-42219904434220606352011-10-14T11:01:00.000-07:002011-10-14T11:01:20.328-07:00Real WorldSomething people say a lot to me when I mention all the trials and tribulations I've been going through in the last couple of weeks is "welcome to the real world".<br />
<br />
I have a problem with this phrase for a couple of reasons. Namely, to say that I am now in the real world would imply that I was previously in an un-real world. As far as I can tell, the last 19 years haven't been spent asleep or in some alternate universe. Unless this is some Inception style plot twist in my life, (in which case the real world really doesn't matter because I must still be asleep) this most definitely is a word just as real as it was last year, or five years ago. More sheltered, maybe. But just as real. <br />
<br />
And, secondly, it's a phrase that people say at every major milestone. High school, college, marriage. Seriously, how many real worlds are there?<br />
<br />
So, what <em>has</em> changed? When I think about how to categorize a life I can't help but thinking about Alexander Pope. Pope was a writer who lived in the 18th century, and pretty much the only way you would know who he is if you are an English major. Pope wrote about this concept called "the chain of being" as a way of talking about knowledge, and it's an idea that has always been kind of interesting to me.<br />
<br />
Visualize a chain. Now imagine that each link on the chain represents a being. The bottom link belongs to rocks and dirt, the top to God. In the middle are animals, humans, and everything else. Essentially, each level on the chain has access to a certain amount of knowledge that the organism on that level can master. It can never know more than it's level allows, only speculate, and the closer a link is to God, the more it can know. So, a rock can never know more than the bottom link, and God can know all the links.<br />
<br />
I don't think the world is real or un-real, I just think that our capacity for knowledge, experience, and opportunity changes. For us, the links on the chain are landmarks. Each period of our life allows us to only accomplish so much. But unlike Pope, we have the opportunity to move up the chain with time, link by link.<br />
<br />
So I'm up a link.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-19420619831785543182011-10-12T08:45:00.001-07:002011-10-12T08:45:57.063-07:00Main Street UCIis a project putting on my school to chronicle different views and experiences of/on the campus. Check out my submission here:<br />
<a href="http://sites.uci.edu/mainstreetuci/2011/10/11/the-transfer/#respond">http://sites.uci.edu/mainstreetuci/2011/10/11/the-transfer/#respond</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-84512046909901381552011-10-08T09:42:00.000-07:002011-10-08T09:42:01.756-07:00There is a fine linebetween pride and embarrassment.<br />
<br />
And I think I might be walking it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-89720769577330232832011-10-06T17:19:00.000-07:002011-10-06T17:19:55.094-07:00Things are good.Regardless of the little things that pop up in my way, like losing my wallet or getting sick, things are good. I'm falling into place piece by piece, and letting myself let go to see if others hold on. So far they are. Even though I'm behind on some things and physically feel less than perfect, I'm happy.<br />
<br />
It's a happiness that is unassuming and maybe a little unfounded, but it is also real. I haven't felt happy like that in a while.<br />
<br />
In the mean time, here's what I'm looking forward to:<br />
Sleep!<br />
Finishing Sense and Sensibility<br />
My birthday<br />
Hopefully spending some actual quality time with my family and best friends<br />
Fall<br />
Writing out some of the things in my head. I'm starting to feel inspired in a way I haven't recently, and I can't wait until I can take advantage of that. Writing makes me happier than anything.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-12754630536641000072011-10-02T21:00:00.000-07:002011-10-02T21:00:15.284-07:00A Recap.I've always considered myself to be a reasonably rational, level headed, down to earth person. I feel intensely with my emotions, but always try to keep them regulated with my head. Lately though, it seems like some of my personal flaws have been coming out more. I've been more self conscious about the way I look and been putting more gravity in what people say to and about me. I've been saying all the wrong things, and my usually on point use of sarcasm has just been coming off as mean. Sometimes I just feel awkward leaving my room at all because I feel like people have no clue what I'm doing.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure that a lot of this has to do with me starting over, wanting to make the absolute best of it, being terrible at making friends, and just all around feeling a little isolated from the people around me.<br />
The worst part is, I'm sure that if I just didn't pay any attention to any of these things at all, I would feel like a part of the group by now. But it's still early, I guess.<br />
<br />
My birthday is coming up soon. 20. It's funny, I'm so used to being the youngest person in my group of friends. This never really bothered me, though, because I always felt like we were still on the same level. Now, I'm living with a bunch of people who are more or less my age, and I'm even on the older side of things. But it doesn't feel the same. Not bad, just different.<br />
<br />
Some people have been asking me if I feel old because my birthday is coming up. But honestly? For the past couple of years I've felt so much older than I actually am. 20 doesn't scare me. Intellectually, emotionally, I'm way past 20. But as far as experiences go, I guess I'm a little behind. Certain aspects of my life have felt stuck for a while - since high school, even. There are certain things that I just can't seem to make happen for myself. But I don't want others to make them happen for me, either. And the last thing I want is anyone to pity me.<br />
<br />
It seems like in my life I have growing years and I have achieving years, and for some reason the two seem to be mutually exclusive. The last thing I want to do is sacrifice my success, but it feels like it has been so long since a growing year, since I've made lasting memories (with people who aren't my family) that are distinguishable - that stand out as new or exciting or worthwhile. I want that. I think I deserve it, and I think it's more than a little overdue.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-7185459223511306282011-09-24T23:39:00.000-07:002011-09-24T23:39:12.065-07:00I Promise this isn't about what you think it's about.Sometimes it's hard sticking to the decisions - the promises - you make for yourself. It's enough to make me wonder why we even make commitments in the first place. Why do we decide to do anything for a longer period of time than the present? Why, after all the failed attempts at longevity, do we still make promises? What good can really come from it?<br />
<br />
Are we motivated by some inflated sense of self righteousness? Is it the lingering notion of our eventual demise?<br />
<br />
Why do we love?<br />
Why do we hate?<br />
<br />
Why is it that the promises we make always seem to cause the distinction between the two?<br />
<br />
So often it seems like we let the logistics of human life get in the way of human life. I wish that I was one of those people who could turn off their brain for a little while and just enjoy life. But my thoughts and my promises always get in the way. And yet, for some reason, I keep making them.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*yes, I am well aware that this probably makes zero sense to anyone but me. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-83230329144068083382011-09-23T10:19:00.000-07:002011-09-23T10:22:04.468-07:00ScienceBelieve it or not, I'm kind of liking the fact that I go to a college where my major is (in terms of the number of students who go here) rare. UCI has a great English program, but just about everyone here is majoring in some kind of science. And as far as I'm concerned that's a good thing.<br />
<br />
Science is one of those fields that I find endlessly interesting, but have never really done too well in a formal class setting.. (Remember when I took astronomy my first year? Yeah. ) So, now that I'm at a place where just about everyone's scientific knowledge far exceeds my own, I just want to soak it up.<br />
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Seriously. I just want to listen to science people talk science talk.<br />
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If any of you still had any small, glimmering ray of hope that I'm not a complete and utter nerd, I probably just squashed it. Sorry about that.<br />
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I promise that my next post wont be about school or something that no one cares much about. <br />
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Only, you should probably take that promise with a grain of salt.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-1908612878139930492011-09-21T18:17:00.000-07:002011-09-21T18:17:42.943-07:00So I've been at school for a couple of days nowand I’ve been trying so, so hard to make new friends. I’m beginning to realize that the bad thing about having such a fantastic core group of friends for a long time is that you kind of forget how you got them as your friends in the first place. How do you break past the “Oh, you like food? What a coincidence because I like food too! Even if it wasn’t necessary for survival, I would still love it!” stage to the place where other people actually have some measure of interest in your life? How do you get to the place where they can ask you how your day was and actually mean it?<br />
Then again, I’m still trying to get to the part where we talk about our mutual love of food, so I probably shouldn’t get ahead of myself.<br />
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Obviously I don’t expect to make friends in a week. I don’t really even expect to make friends in a month. I’ve been trying so hard here and I’ve met so many people - nice, kind, interesting people. I just want to feel reassured that some of these people might start to become more than just passengers on a bus or people in front of me at the Wendy’s line.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-52263505456566455712011-09-16T11:40:00.000-07:002011-09-16T11:40:55.945-07:00Why do I want to write?<img alt="" class="image" height="119px" src="http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lrc8ohUXTF1r1wwgko1_500.png" width="500px" /><br />
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So I can create things like this.<br />
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Maybe, one day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-867603652495541893.post-65031686783956948482011-09-13T14:01:00.000-07:002011-09-13T14:01:58.804-07:00I move out on Sunday,and I don't know how to feel. In these last couple of days at home, I don't know what to do with myself. I should be getting ready, packing , but instead I find myself constantly distracted from the tasks at hand. I'm not accomplishing anything. I don't even know how to feel; sad? Excited? Instead I just end up with some blah emotion in between. When I realize I'm about 3 years behind a lot of my friends when it comes to this step, I just feel silly for thinking about it at all.<br />
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This move isn't exactly "forever", but it's definitely a step in that direction.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0