The Day Off

Having completed summer school (and the last math course I shall be required to take, fingers crossed), I decided to spend this Friday in...unusual form.

I am not a late sleeper. In fact, I don't think I've ever slept later than 10:00 in my life.
Ha. Yeah.

This morning, I wake up at 6 AM, talk to my boyfriend, and then go back to sleep until 11 AM.
My mother prods me out of bed with well-intentioned worry, I eat something vaguely food-like, and commence watching the best show in the history of television: BBC's Top Gear.

I also never thought that I'd be a fan - a true fan - of a British car show. So there you go. That's what this teacup human does on her day off. Sleep, vague-food-like substance, some water, some cake (quite a lot of cake, ok), and Top Gear.

WolfGrrl

Universal Mysteries

...are based in mathematics.

Yes, I realize there are math geniuses out there (or even people for whom math makes sense). I always joke that I am not a math person. It could be because (as my mother believes) I resign myself to failure and so fail. It could be because I'm used to Excellents in other subjects, and I am below my own standard in maths.

But, for whatever reason, math mystifies me.
And I'm not even taking a math class involving NUMBERS.

Logic, for those of you who have not had this experience, is a discipline where English sentences are transcribed into a symbolic language for the purpose of a) preserving the truth of the argument and b) determining the validity of the argument. It can be fun on a basic level and mind-bogglingly complex on a higher level.

I have my final this Thursday. Help!

When I apply myself and descend into a state of rigid concentration, my brain relaxes and I click along through the problems just fine. Sometimes, however, stupid things happen. I flunked my last exam because I copied a problem down wrong, flipped the parts of others, or just flat out got lost doing my derivations (think Geometric proofs).

I cannot afford for these stupid things to happen this time.

Grades and GPA aside, I want to do well in this class. Balancing that is the strong antipathy I have towards studying. Logic is a skill, not something you can memorize and regurgitate (or BS, as I usually do for my other exams). I hate studying; for years I've managed to scrape good grades without much studying (if you put me in a library cubicle, I read the graffitti others scrawl on the desk).

Logic works in odd ways for me, which heightens both my confidence and fear. I can stare at a problem for hours and be completely confused, only to figure it out in ten seconds the next morning. I can unravel complicated sentences without even thinking about it, only to get lost in simple ones. My brain has decided that, rather than be helpful and organize itself in a way that makes sense, it shall do as it's always done and cheerfully disregard order in favor of fun.

Thanks, Brain. Thanks so much. I love you too.

I don't really know what the point of this post is. Beware math? Take Logic as a throwaway course? Our brains are smarter when we don't control them? (That's a terrifying idea.)

Maybe everyone could just wish me luck on Thursday? I'd appreciate it.
WolfGrrl

Words with Friends

Not your standard mobile app.

Basically, this is a transcript of a few humorous conversations with a friend. Pseudonyms are used (duh) for privacy reasons. Gasybeans is also on Blogger; her thoughts are awesome, so check her out here --> Thoughts Out Loud

***Some comments have been spliced together. Sorry; I'm a writer. Can't stop embellishing. We do have this conversation a lot though.

Gasybeans: What have you been up to, darling?
WolfGrrl: I changed my clothes a lot this morning.
GB: Hahaha, really?
WG: Truth.
GB: Girl problems.
WG: More like first world problems for girls. Help, I have too many clothes!
GB: Nahhh, you don't. I have more.
WG: *rude face*
GB: Well, it's true.
WG: ...
WG: Good thing we're too cheap to buy stuff at the mall.
GB: Says you! 
WG: Wait, I'm not cheap.
GB: I hope not.
WG: Thanks, dear.
GB: *staggers from sarcasm fumes*
GB: I love you.
WG: *pouts*
WG: Daaaaaa, I can never be annoyed at you. Do you think I should go back for that jacket?
GB: Yes!
WG: That's like asking if I should have more dessert, isn't it?
GB: *huge grin*
WG: Car keys, car keys... We are hopeless shopaholics.
GB: Amen, sister.
WG: Lol
GB: ...
GB: ...
GB: Can you pick me up? I really want that shirt.
WG: Hahahahaha... Yes.
GB: <3
WG: Hopeless
GB: ...and proud of it!

Remember

"Those who are heartless

Once cared too much."

Be kind; don't judge. 

The world is cruel enough.

(This doesn't apply to me in any way, 

I just thought it was something we should remember.)

WolfGrrl

Down Under

Yes, typically that phrase refers to Australia. But that's not the down under I'm talking about. I was going through older posts and it occurred to me that I never mentioned New Zealand again. Oopsie.

As a third year student, I have the option to travel abroad for a semester without interrupting my degree program. I chose New Zealand for a myriad of reasons (it kept coming up in my study abroad search list, for one), only to be blessed with a chance encounter and a friend - now boyfriend - who lives there. How awesome is that? Fate works in such cool ways; sometimes I feel that I am under a guiding hand. But back to the point.

I have chosen New Zealand. I realise not many people know anything about New Zealand, unless they happen to have seen The Lord of the Rings.

Well, we'll have to fix that. One of my hopes is that while I am abroad, this blog will double as a travel journal. I will post (selected) photos so that you all may travel with me! NZ is a beautiful country, and when seen through happy, excited eyes...

Well. Let's get some basic info down, okies? 

A map for those of you unfamiliar with world geography. 

Isn't this country a beautiful one? Can you blame me for wanting to visit...for reasons other than my wonderful boyfriend? 

WolfGrrl

the Sims

I once heard it said that the only people who play the Sims are control freaks, voyeurs, and sadists.
Yeah...
Let's revise that list a bit.

One of the things that my friends and I share is an organizing mentality. We all love the Sims because it allows us to tinker with lives - whether they be our lives (in the game), or just lives in general. Maybe this makes us control freaks. But we all have different styles of playing.

I love to create things. I'm nowhere near my boyfriend's league (he's an architect) and I may build the same basic house design, but I love love LOVE decorating them. I used to drive my sister nuts when we were small and playing Barbies, because I'd spend hours setting up my house only to get bored when we actually began playing.

My boyfriend builds actual houses, but that's what he's learning in school, so I suck up my jealousy and forgive him for being so much more patient than I am. I use the Sims for wish-fulfillment: pets, apartments, prviate mansions, swimming pools...whatever I want. Does that sound control-freakish? (I promise, my Sims lead extremely boring, well-organized lives. The most exciting thing that's ever happened is one of them burned the house down.)

My three best friends at school play the Sims to alternately amuse themselves, torture people they don't like, or satisfy their nesting instincts. We're all so similar it's like HAHAHA Fate.

I love patterns and puzzles; it's why I'm much better at Logic than straight-up mathematics. In the world of the Sims I have the opportunity to design people (down to their clothes) and pets (down to height, weight, fur color) and houses (everything). This makes it a huuuuge time sink, and yet it's absolutely worth the carpal tunnel and eye strain.

Part of the reason I write is to give myself a vacation from reality. Playing the Sims is a bit like taking a mini-vacation: I'm still in a "real-world" (no fairies, dragons, or rocket ships) but I am all-powerful. I get to do whatever the heck I want with these little people and they live and die according to my wishes. *insert evil laugh here*

So... I guess I am a control freak. Awww.
(Although, really, is that news to anyone?)

WolfGrrl

Our Song

You know, I never used to like Taylor Swift.

Shhh. I know, it might be a crime. But I was just...not part of anything she sang about. None of that stuff really related to me and my life.

And then along comes a documentary on Netflix about (who else), Taylor Swift? Well then...let the happiness begin.

Hahaha. No, it wasn't quite like that. But I did become more fond of her (she is a wonderful person) and she does write catchy, fun songs. So...

I like to drive with the radio on so I can sing along, but I never know the words. One day I was driving along mangling Bruce Springsteen when a random song by some group named Lady Antebellum (I had to look that up) came on.

This would be Our Song, folks.
Taylor Swift devotees, you know what I mean. ^_^

Just a Kiss Goodnight

WolfGrrl

This Day

Today is a good day, readers. After a week of feeling out-of-sorts and off-balance, I seem to have found a nice resting place where I can flutter my wings and bask in the sun. The heat of summer has waned a little; the sky has cleared; my family is safe; my boyfriend is back at school and well.

I am constantly amazed by the ability of human beings to both create and withstand chaos. I create my own chaotic life, and I therefore must be responsible for the anxiety and stress that comes with that chaos. Somehow, though, that thought gets lost in the sea of worries and fears and pain. Life is a rocky, roundabout dirt road, not a paved super-highway with signs and six lanes to avoid traffic jams. I may know this in my head, but the rest of me needs constant reminders.

I would like to make this post a celebration of today. I don't celebrate the todays of my life often enough; I'm always running ahead or running behind, trying to see six ways from Sunday and feeling as though I am slave driver and slave. So let's see what makes this day a good day.

1. My boyfriend is settled. Never underestimate the impact loved ones have on our happiness. I never understood my mother's anxiety when my father travels until now. Having found someone to love - and love dearly - I worry about him. I want to be near him. I want to reach out and hold his hand when he's upset or stressed or happy. 

2. I got some sleep. Yes, college students (and other young adults) are notorious for being able to function on little sleep. Too bad I'm not one of those; coffee and I have never gotten along, and I can no longer depend on sugar to keep my brain working. I require sleep. Go figure. 

3. Sunshine. Oh, I love the sun. I love the warmth, the brightness, the colors it brings to the world. I love the morning and I desperately love the evening. I am so much happier when I can see golden light and green trees outside my window, instead of grey skies and rain water. Rain makes me melancholy. Sun makes me smile. 

4. My family is safe. I never doubted that they wouldn't be, but my father and sister are traveling out West and didn't check into their hotel on time. My mother was naturally anxious and that made me anxious. But they are safe (they took a sight-seeing detour, sighhh) and well and together. 

I'm sure there are more things that make today wonderful. I have no homework; I can relax; I finished the book I was reading; I can bake a cake; the cat didn't bite me (yet). These are some things that make today This Day, this good, good day. 

Bien

WolfGrrl

Little Gray

For M and M

Little gray, gone on –

Treading softly into the dawn

You haven’t been forgotten;

You will, in fact, remain

Where grass and sky meet rain

As fog, and in the shadows

On the chair.

Little gray, we miss you

But it seems you heard your cue

So you have gone on

Treading softly into the dawn

On paws of spirit and cloud

To spurn the laps

Of angels.

Little gray, remind  

Us, whom you’ve left behind,

That in the end all days must close

And fade from blue

To gray and rose;

From life, which seems

So permanent 

We'll see you in our dreams. 

G

A Bouquet

Gentlemen, take note. 
To win brownie points with both your girlfriends and their parents (mothers)
You must send her flowers on her birthday.
It makes it even better
When she doesn't know they are coming
And when they are sent by someone
Who lives 8500 miles away.

I love you forever and always too, my dear.
However long forever may be.
Wolfgrrl

Missing From Me

I know in the past I've mentioned that I don't think French is a very romantic language. Well, there are definitely aspects of it that get right to the heart of the matter ('scuse the pun). In French, one says "Tu me manques" for "I miss you." The literal translation of this is "You are missing from me."

My boyfriend lives very far away from me right now. We do the best we can, and we are pros at adjusting to crappy internet, dropped Skype calls, time differences and shipping costs. I believe that a long-term, long-distance relationship is completely possible if both people are invested in it. We are invested, but it makes us appreciate the little things we don't yet have all the more.

I have never missed another person's physical presence the way I miss his. It's hard to combat, this yearning, for it is nothing I've ever had to deal with before. I don't know if I should distract myself by being happy, being angry, being sad, or being asleep. I am at a loss when it comes to solving this emotional dilemma. Last night I tried an old standby: when unable to sleep, write.

Those of you who followed me from Deviant Art have probably already seen this poem. But there are some of you who have no idea that I write (aside from infrequent blog entries, and school papers). So I'll put the poem here too. This is how I describe the feeling that someone is missing from me.

i am missing more than you
i am missing the warmth of you at my back;
the weight of your arm keeping me from floating away

i am missing being able to wind your hair around my finger
and the way you smile when i come running.

i am missing more than you,
for you are more
than three vowels and a breath.

you are the hand i reach for
and the laugh that answers mine
the reason i can't sleep
and the reason i dream

you are missing from me
tu me manques.

tu me manques, toujours.

Thank you for reading. 

WolfGrrl

Haters Gonna Hate

I know the world is a judgmental place, and I know humans are rarely kind to each other. People are rash, both in what they say and when (and how) they say it.

But hate is...an evil, evil thing. It is painful for the person who is hated, and dangerous to the one who hates. I think that the internet, while it has many good points, is a breeding ground for hatred. We hate what we don't know. We hate on behalf of those we love, without thinking that they might not feel the same way. We hate quickly, passionately. Hatred and love are opposites for a reason; they spring from the same source. To hate one thing, you must love another.

This morning I visited the tumbler of an artist I follow. Her work is what inspired me to try my hand at drawing again, and she is such a cheerful, happy person that there's always something to make me smile on her page.

The first thing I saw on her page, among the posts for the last twelve hours, was a comment and an answer that shocked me. And then came the hurt - both empathetic and sympathetic.

(I've had my run-in with hateful comments on the internet, just as an aside. I know the pain those words produce. It's like being punched. You deflate, you crumple. You want to cry or run and hide.)

Haters gonna hate. I believe that some people hate others because they hate themselves. I guess I'm lucky that the only person I've ever wanted to punish was myself. I hope I would never lash out at another person specifically; sure, I'll complain or vent frustration and anger, but I do not call others out. I don't use names. I don't use abusive language. In my heart, I don't want to hurt others. But I am human. If they're hurt because of that, well...that's on them.

But enough. I just wanted to ask everyone to please...censor yourself. Having been rash, I reaped the painful consequences. Don't let the internet make you think you're anonymous. You're not. I admire those who can come back to their haters without sinking to that level. The artist responded with a thoughtful reply, and even asked her defenders (it's never just two people engaged in hatred. Those who stand with each are also involved) to leave the hater alone.

Shakespeare said that "Violent delights have violent ends." If love and hate are driven by the same emotion - passion - then they both cannot endure for long. So I guess there's comfort in that: hate fades in time, as does that bright, vivid flash of love-at-first-sight. Dislike lasts longer, just as loving someone long-term means you love them less intensively, less exclusively. Ahh, I can't explain this. Think of it as fire, one a bonfire, the other a candle. The bonfire flares up quickly and burns for a short time. The candle burns less bright, but for much longer and much more steadily. I think you know which is which.

Just... I've never hated anyone. I thought I did, I really did, but it wasn't a few hours or days later that I felt sorry for that person, or indifferent. Hate is a visceral thing; we feel it, but we can't sustain it. Not without damaging ourselves. Those who clutch hate to their chests are those who are afraid of something, even life or themselves.

I wish I knew how to ask in a way that doesn't seem condescending or patronizing. Maybe I should remember this: for every person you deliberately try to hurt, someone close to you will be sad.

Wolfgrrl

?????

Yeah, I just don't have a catchy title today. But, it occurred to me that the advice I gave my boyfriend (about writing every day, even if it's only a sentence) is advice I need to take.

I haven't been writing much this summer. Oh, I had a brief stint where I worked on my novel (a never-ending process if there was one), but aside from that and letters to friends and notes to family, I haven't done any writing for about three months.

None. Nada. Zilch. Not even here, on my blog.

I just don't feel...motivated to write. I have always used writing as a means of exorcising my internal demons and now to my surprise, I don't seem to have any demons. Oh sure, I dislike the way I look sometimes, or my hair gives me trouble or the 40+ C heat gets to me...but those are minor things; the squabbles that come with living life.

My question is, where the heck has my writing gone?

Did it vanish? Did it run away to someone else who is miserable and doesn't know how to express herself? Since neither of those things apply to me, maybe my writing took a vacation. It's been on call for about ten years; that's a long time to work with no breaks. It should sue.

I think (I hope) that my writing hiatus stems from my external rather than internal focus (my therapist would be so proud; I use such big, fancy words). These days I am focused on my friends, boyfriend, and family members and not so much myself.

So...yeah. There really isn't a title for this kind of...whatever.
WolfGrrl