Hobbits

Still in Middle Earth. Be back in...six months.

WG

There is Reason

There is no reason for me to have cried myself to sleep.
There is no reason for me to have nightmares every night.
There is no reason for me to be restless and lonely.
There is every reason for me to be excited.

With Christmas three days away and my departure another ten days after that, I should be happy and lively and full of good cheer. I shouldn't be lonely and frightened and sad.

I told my boyfriend last night that I felt small and scared and sad - the big question is, why?

Not sick, not starving, not alone. Not deprived of food and heat and amusement.
I guess it isn't unusual to be struggling to keep a good mood on when the ones you love are far away. For me, I miss my boyfriend and my best friends a lot right now. I am also missing distractions, like school and stress and sleep.

When you're sick, going to the doctor is soothing (at least for me). When you're well, going to the doctor is irritating and stressful (at least in this house). I have been to the doctor too many times in the last two weeks. I canceled my last appointment out of aggravation. Being calm for them, pleasant for them, cheerful and willing and easy-going is a drain. I didn't realize how much of a drain it was until I hit my low mood yesterday...for no good reason.

Maybe I don't need a 'good' reason to be sad. Maybe I just need to let myself feel the sad, acknowledge it, but not let it take over me. I struggle not to judge myself, even when I can't find another way to cope with the things I feel, say or do. It was very difficult for me to ask my boyfriend to call me because I was lonely. I had a need - a valid need, my therapist would say - and I had to fight myself at every turn just to send him a text. I had to swallow several apologies for being 'demanding.'

Does anyone else feel this way before the holidays? I remember being a child, maybe seven or eight, and deciding that I wasn't going to allow myself to get excited about the holidays because of the disappointment afterwards.

I only just rescinded that order two years ago.
I'm in a bit of a funky mood today, Reader, and I can't offer a reason for it except the rambling thoughts above. Maybe you'll see something in them that strikes a chord with you. Maybe you'll look at one of you relatives and go "Oh, I see now."

Or maybe you'll think I'm whining. I wouldn't want to give that impression, but it could be true. Words are words, after all. They don't come with tone pre-packaged.

Have a safe, happy, cozy holiday - whatever you celebrate.
WolfGrrl

The Countdown

It's that time of year, folks. (Yeah, it's the holiday season, but it's also the countdown until study abroad). I know I've been posting a lot about my imminent departure, so if you're bored just skip this post.

Today is the 18th of December, where we wish a very happy birthday to my saintly mother and buy our Christmas tree. Then in another week it's New Years', and I count down four days more until I leave the country.

To sum up: I'm in the US for another eighteen days.

My days have been a bit slow since school finished, but things will zoom by faster than I can keep track. My eighteen days are full of friendly visits, doctor's appointments, packing, tracking, and counting.

It's difficult to imagine leaving my friends for a semester and not being there for the crises, the tears, the laughter and the inside-jokes. It's difficult to imagine leaving them at all, actually. I love them; I'll miss them. But I'll see them in six months. WOW!

To those I didn't get to say goodbye to: I love you guys. I'll post pictures (here and on Facebook) and write letters and Skype. (Oh Skype, the current bane of my existence.)

Today is day eighteen.
WolfGrrl

Dickensian

Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, a touch that never hurts. 

Charles Dickens

Where Finals Go

What I should be doing right now is studying. Instead, I am trolling through the online syllabi for my current classes to figure out my approximate final grades. Needless to say, I severely underestimated my ability this semester. Even if I should bomb the finals (and I refuse to let that happen, because what happened to my GPA in that scenario made me saaaaaad) I will emerge with decent enough grades.

I have already been told by my advisor that all hopes of a 4.0 flew away my second semester. That's all right. My therapist pointed out that, hey, does it really matter what your GPA is in the real world? Obviously, one would like to have a good record for future employers, but it's entirely unnecessary to spend your entire life slaving away at school. There are so many good things that I've done this year that aren't school related; so many relationships I've grown or nurtured. I have made great strides in my personal epiphanies. I am healthy, mentally and physically. I am going abroad (OMG, OMG, OMG).

So, I say "whatever" to my academics at the moment. I will study for my finals; I will take them as seriously as I always do. I will bemoan stupid mistakes and gloat over easy triumphs. And then I will forget it all, and focus on what lies ahead. Even if what lies ahead are the rather dismal chores of vacuuming the corners of my room and compiling lists of what to do before I leave.

It's a good day. I must not be 'doing' finals' week correctly if I can find happiness and amusement where my peers find despair and gallows humor.

Meh. It's a good day (for me). Here's my secret: Blow it off when you feel despair. At that point, there's nothing you can do anyway.

Cheers!
WolfGrrl

The Boy Thing

I don't know if this is characteristic of boys, or just my boy, but he doesn't use adjectives.
Really. I am 'pretty.' He is 'doing good.' The weather is 'nice.' For someone who thrives on description it is the one thing I would change about him.

Thus, my never-ending refrain is: ADJECTIVES PLEASE OMG!!!

WolfGrrl

Twenty-Five Days

Oh dear God, I have twenty-five days before I leave the country. Twenty-five days to get my head wrapped around the fact that I will be living overseas for six months. On my own. Overseas. Did I mention that I'll be on my own?

Oh, dear God.

I'm watching the Chronicles of Narnia and lusting after the beautiful landscape and the wonderful people of New Zealand. Whatever niggling urge had me clicking on the link, back in March, that said 'University of Otago, New Zealand' is a blessed urge.

In twenty-five days (and some number of hours) I will be flying out from Charlotte across the country - on my own - and then flying over the Pacific - on my own. No safety net, no backups, no one there to calm me down when I can't remember my gate and flip out. (OK, so my parents will be standing by the phone, or in my mother's case, hovering, but still. I have the on the ground illusion of independence.)

Do you have any idea how phenomenal and terrifying this is? I'm a girl who went to school ten minutes from my parents' house; who has flown by herself ONCE, and that only a year and a bit ago. I have no doubts (I cannot doubt) that I'll be fine once I get going. It's just that waiting and counting down the days might kill me first.

I know that once I'm there I'll be homesick and tired and lonely (especially after my boyfriend leaves and I have to go to school in a new country, alone). I fully expect this experience to drive my personal growth through the roof. I can't wait to hike, swim, run, fly, dance, laugh, cry, sneeze, and hopefully not freeze on another continent. ANOTHER CONTINENT. I hyperventilate just thinking about it.

Plane tickets around the world are not cheap, people. I can't screw this up. My safety net takes a minimum of seventy two hours to reach me, not counting delays and domestic flight times. Obviously, I have my darling love and his family, but should I lose a limb shark tubing, or fall off a cliff or get concussed and lose my memory, I'll want my family with me. Walking your fingers from the East Coast of the United States to the little green islands of New Zealand takes some time. Flying takes more time.

I guess that's why my study abroad contract has that little clause stipulating 'repatriation of remains.' Yucky, but necessary.

Whatever. I will be bold, I will be daring. I will rock this six month adventure and come back wanting to go again, and again, and again.

And the best part of it all?
I can go. Again and again and again.

Because I can do everything I want to, damn it. (Pardon my French.)
WolfGrrl

Meeeeeeeerrrrrr

I hate being sick. If it's not sinus headaches and a sore throat, it's a random rash that resembles measles and scarlet fever.

The only benefit in all of this is that if I'm going to be sick, better get on with it before I go overseas.
Still, this is not motivating me to study for my exam this evening. Not at all...

WolfGrrl

Have a Go, Please

A room isn't a room until it has shoes in awkward places and dust in the corners. It hasn't been lived in until there are marks on the walls and tear-stains on the bed linens.

This room has been lived in. It is lived in. So why do I feel this frustrating, gnawing, consuming need to break free of it? Why do I want to both retreat into the protection of my home and cast it away? Maybe I should blame it on sickness, on being weeks away from the biggest decision in my life so far. On missing my boyfriend. On stress. On anxiety. On loneliness.

I can't tell anymore right now what I feel. Except restless; I'm definitely feeling restless. I feel like chewing my blankets into gooey pulp and then smashing my face against the wall a time or ten. However, as my mother in her wisdom reminds me time after time, this too shall pass.

Until then, watch me try to cheer myself up:

 

WolfGrrl

Universal Management

I really wonder if there's an elf somewhere that listens to my complaints and coordinates responses from the Universe. As I was watching TV the other day, I was bombarded by ads informing me that the iPhone is now available from my no-contract cell provider...something I believed would never happen. Needless to say, it brought back my Apple addiction with a vengeance. I am now disgusted with myself.

My Apple addiction is the result of purchasing a Macbook a few months ago, and loving the sleek design and intuitive movements. I dare not praise it too much, as all the men in my life disparage Apple (for the same reasons, hah).

Aside from the Apple Issue, I do legitimately think that this elf listens to my complaints, or at least passes them on to the appropriate department in Management. In the past year, I've noticed that when I finally spend some time bitching (pardon the language, but there's really no other way to describe it) about something, that something is immediately solved, or I am given new information about it.

For example, when I wondered if the Study Abroad office at my overseas university had lost my application, I received an email congratulating me on my acceptance. When I complained that I wouldn't know about my overseas housing until I arrived, I received an email from the director of housing offering me a place. When I feared that my Visa application had been incorrectly filled out, a day later I received the Visa. Doesn't this sound like the intervention of Universal Management to you? I always knew that cursing a computer gets it to boot up faster (at least with Windows it does), but this seems counterintuitive. We are taught as children that hard work and faith, not whining, produce results.

Yeah, that's not what my experience is telling me. So I guess I'm still a child. A very whiny, but highly gratified child.

Mwahahaha.
WolfGrrl

This Has Been an Update

Waiting for my last class of the day to start strikes me as a fitting time to write a blog post. Readers, it is almost the end of the semester and I couldn't feel better...well, maybe I could if my headache would go away. Ugh. But, aside from that (and the weird looks I've been getting all day - more on that in a second) this has been a pretty nice day.

For those of you who can't read (or don't own a calendar), today is the third of December and where I am the weather is a sunny 72 degrees Fahrenheit. In December. I am wearing fleece lined boots and sweatpants, and getting judgmental looks from my running-short sporting peers. It's winter, people! Uggs and sweatpants are now socially acceptable! Sigh.

Still, given how much rain depresses me, I shouldn't complain about the sun. In other news, I have begun the process of moving back into my room at home (hrmmm), a two-week, labor intensive endeavour that is the bane of any student's existence twice yearly. Still, it hasn't been too ghastly; one benefit of being a third year is that I've done this five times already. Packing is one of those skills that improves with practice.

It looks like class is starting, Reader, so I'd better get into my notes and start thinking...critically. Oh joy. It looks as though they will finally return our mid-semester exams to us. (The last day of classes is this Wednesday.)

I know what you're thinking: if they can return things so late, why can't I turn them in so late?

Me too, Reader, me too.
WolfGrrl

All Suns Set

I feel a little like my sun has set.

Not forever, but definitely for this time. I am learning to adjust my life to my love's absence; it's more difficult than I thought it would be. He came for so brief a time and managed to make himself a part - the center - of my world. Going through that world without him feels wrong. Off balance.

I'll be all right, never fear. It's not unpleasant, this balancing act I'm relearning, but it is melancholy. I didn't expect sharing my life - my whole life - with another person to be so simple. So easy to achieve. I am no longer singular; I am one half of a pair. I'm not sure what I feel about this, except that when I am with him the world is brighter, funnier, more in every way.

I guess this is what the poets call Love. Funny, it doesn't seem like an illness to me. Rather, like basking in the sun only to find yourself in the shadow of a cloud. The exquisite warmth he brought is gone; I am as I always was, but now I want more.

I know all suns set, just as I know all clouds pass. But I am selfish. I want to sit in the sun forever. I want to be warm forever. I want him forever. I don't think the sun will set on us.

WolfGrrl

Little Lost Kitty

To the friends who thought I would make a good military wife: we were all wrong. I am struggling to maintain a happy (or at least pleasant) demeanor now that my boyfriend is on his way across the world. It's not that our situation is particularly harrowing; I will see him again in four weeks. But out of seven months, I had him for nine wonderful days.

I always wondered what I would feel when I found someone to love. Well, driving home from the airport Wednesday night, I found out. I can drive home on autopilot, blind from tears, and not have a wreck.

I sent him home with a smile and a wave.
WolfGrrl

Offline

I have been offline enjoying my boyfriend. Be back in a week.

WG

Princess du Jour

Today is a wonderful day, and not many people feel that way about Mondays.
For those of you who have no idea what goes on in my life, today concludes the first part of my fairytale.

Today, I meet my boyfriend for the first time.

I'm sure you're all staring at the computer screen trying to figure out where the typo lies; after all, can this man be my boyfriend if I've never met him? Let me point out that this happened even before globalization and technological advances; people have been falling in love through letters for centuries. I am just modifying the old technique for a new era. And while the ride has been fantastic, I have my eyes and heart fixed on the future, not the past.

I have been so focused on school, work, and getting my life together that for the past week I haven't had time to really examine how I feel. But this iconic Monday marks the end of my work time and the beginning of my play time. For ten days - ten days, Reader! - I get to laugh and play and wonder as we learn to fit into each other's lives. I have never chosen someone to be so close to me. I am an accommodating soul, yet for the first time someone has given me what I've always wanted and never had the courage to ask for.

I see a relationship (and a friendship, to a lesser extent) as a convenant between two people to put one another first. This doesn't work quite like it sounds; coming first means knowing when to step away if the other person needs time alone, or knowing when to step up if the other person needs help. Putting someone else first is an incredible commitment, and for a long time I never thought I'd find a person to make that commitment to me.

Finding this man makes me understand that it isn't a sacrifice to put someone else first. Usually it means making both people happy; finding a balance, finding happiness. I love to make others happy; I love to make my boyfriend happy. (I also like to make him laugh, which doesn't always make him happy.)

I'm so nervous, but it is overpowered by my joy. Normally, I feel joy like an all-consuming flash flood of emotion that lifts me too high and brings me down with a crash. This joy is like sitting in a pool of sun, baking my bones and letting all my burdens melt away. I feel like a princess. (According to him, I am a princess, hahaha.)

Today is a wonderful day. A magical day. A day where an ordinary couple take up the mantle of a fairytale couple. Today I am a princess, and my prince is on his way to me.

Except to hear the about how I tackle him in the airport.
WolfGrrl

Why I Love Cats

Since 'Why I Hate Raisins' was such a success.

I have a confession to make.
I love cats.

Our current cat had the misfortune of being incorrectly named for a female; despite reverting to the proper sex, he remains 'Bella' to the household (and occasionally 'It' when we become frustrated with pronouns).

As I write this post, the misnamed he-cat is sitting on his cat tower by the window chewing off his toe claws. He is very fastidious about maintaining his weaponry, which include an enormous set of fangs, lethal talons and a presicent presence. This is a cat that hunts his humans...when he's in the mood.

I am in love with this cat, like the rest of the household. But his presence has had the interesting effect of making me more appreciative of cats in general. I have always been (due to my quiet, stationary nature) the seat of choice for Cats That Hate Humans. Don't ask me to explain the allure - I guess, since I leave them alone they choose not to leave me alone.

Bella has produced in me an unholy desire to be chosen by a cat. Perhaps it is because he's sometimes more doglike than catlike; what other cat sits like a meerkat when his nose is telling him something interesting? What other cat begs for food no matter how recently he's been fed? What other cat destroys things by chewing them apart, greets his humans upon their return and chases balls, paintbrushes, rubber ducks, and everything else in the house?

Having finished with his toe maintenance, Bella-cat is now having a bath. His penchent for cleanliness led to me christening him The Presence, because every time you touch him he washes himself - to remove human germs.

This cat also chases his tail. Family members who live here know this, but for those of you who don't, Bella-cat will sometimes see his tail as new and exciting (or a threat) and proceed to try and eat it. This involves much rolling around in the middle of various full-sized beds, feet in his mouth and body contorting like he belongs in Cirque du Soleil.

It's never dull in this house. Between the dog chasing the cat away from my mother, my father and sister tormenting the cat, and various things getting eaten/destroyed/lost we no longer claim to be a quiet family.

WolfGrrl

The Longest Week

This has been the longest week of my life in recent memory.
My boyfriend will finally be here Monday evening, and I can't even enjoy the anticipation because I am earning my free evenings from three months ago.

One. More. Day.
One. More. Day.
One.
More.
Day.

And then I can spend my weekend working. But at least it will be the weekend.

Yeah.
WolfGrrl

Colonizers of Dreams

Today, we honor those who gave their lives in defense of this country. We admire their spirit and hold them in memory. Whatever your politics, whatever your opinion, let us pass no judgment on the dead.

Today we honor those who give their lives in defense of this country. We admire their spirit and hold them in prayer. Whatever your religion, whatever your opinion, let us pass no judgment on the soldier.

Today we remember the reason we are free. Ideals are a good thing; we should all aspire to them. But let us not, in our aspiration, forget those whose ideals have been forged in places, times, and moments very different from our own. It is tradition to raise a glass to the victorious dead.

There is no victory in death, but the assurance that you have done all you can do and given all you can give. If we are to be all that we can be, we must remember with sadness those whose blood keeps us ignorant and shallow and free and promise that they did not die in vain.

There is victory in life, in getting up again and again to do the job you were told, asked, or volunteered to do. Do not force your ideals upon another; share them instead. There is healing in conversation, in listening and being listened to.

Too often we hear the phrase 'this nation is built on a dream.' But what is a dream if one cannot shape it into reality? Acknowledge the hands that have shaped our collective dream, for better or for worse. Tear no one down out of love or fear.

The passing of judgment is not for any of us in this world. There are no such things as perfection or neutrality. By all means, seek these traits as ideals, but don't expect the world to conform to your inner dream unless you're willing to do what it takes to make that dream a reality.

Remember the dead.
Smile at the living.
Do not condemn the colonizers of dreams.

WolfGrrl

Almost Haiku

Slept until ten.
Must be a record.
No, that would be
the day
That I slept until noon.

Working with children
is a humbling
Experience
that happens to give you
a backache.

My feet
are no bigger than those
of an
Australopithecus
named Lucy.

Eight days more
and I'll never
survive
the wait and the cold
hands.

When faced with writing
a paper or two
it seems that I write
poems
and not haikus.

My mind is such a weird place to be sometimes.
WolfGrrl

Why I Hate Raisins

I have a confession to make.
I hate raisins.

I hate them, hate them, HATE them. Grapes are delicious; I eat them as often as I can. But something goes wrong once they shrivel and ferment into wrinkly alien pod creatures. Every time I see a raisin in my granola it makes me think I've found a dead bug. And that's off-putting, to say the least.

What is a raisin, anyway? As far as I can tell, it's an vacationing grape that didn't put on sunscreen and developed wrinkles. I like to throw these food-tourists at squirrels. Sometimes I throw them at my friends to start a fight.

It's not as though I've never seen a raisin before. My father eats them often, usually in cereal or yogurt. They are a standard snack for the children I babysit, and my friends often ate them in primary and secondary school.

I...didn't. For no apparent reason.

It's funny to think about, but there's another kind of cereal that I 'filter,' even if it's for a different reason. Since I don't want to be guilty of product placement, I shall call this cereal Brand X. Brand X cereal comes with little marshmallows in it; I pick these out, to my friend's eternal frustration.

I guess I just like to filter things. I pick the raisins out of trail mix; I pick the peanuts out of cans of mixed nuts. I color code my chocolate candies; I make concentric designs on my cakes. When given a random collection of items, I invariably sort them, by shape, color, size, taste, or unknown preference.

I discriminate against raisins in a negative way. I discriminate against my food. It shouldn't make me laugh, but it really does. I hate raisins. They are wrinkly bugs in my salty granola.

I guess the next question should be, why do I eat bug-filled, salty granola?
I have no idea, honestly. It's a habit I've mostly kicked. But not completely.

Let's add that to the list.
WolfGrrl

The Bed Fiasco

Yes, I really did do this. By accident, if that makes me less of an idiot. But I did dye my bed a very bright blue. Sigh.

Anyway, here's how.

1. Bake a birthday cake.
2. Decorate the cake with blue food dye when you run out of colored frosting.
3. Place the decorated cake on your bed.
4. Open the cake keeper.
5. Do not clean off the bed before cutting the cake.
6. Try to keep slices of cake, plates, and junk from falling off the bed.
7. Drop slice of cake frosting-side down on the bed.
8. Swear loudly in three languages.
9. Panic.
10. Attack the bed with Clorox wipes and make the stain bigger.
11. Panic.
12. Give up and change the sheets.

You have now dyed your bed blue.

My sympathies.
WolfGrrl

November Thoughts

There is something in my mind today, rather as there is a taste of winter in the air when I open the window. My dreams were anxious despite what I would describe as a relatively peaceful setting. As I called my boyfriend for our early morning/late night Skype date, my roommate roused herself and left to make an anxious doctor's appointment. My thoughts are on her now, as I sit and write this post in our empty room. I hope your mother isn't driving you insane, sweetie. But she can't help it, you know that. Mothers are...another breed entirely.

It's a funny old world.

Not long now before my boyfriend joins me here; I miss him every day, the kind of ache like an old bruise that you accustom yourself to feeling. It's new for me, finding solace in others. I've always been, for better or for worse, a singular person. How incredibly strange and different it is to ask for - to actively solicit - affection. Help. Love.

I am better with words. I can write reams and reams of words where I hesitate to make a gesture. But I've learned something, in this funny old world. Making gestures gives me more satisfaction that I ever thought it would. I find a deep, humming peace in wrapping my mother or best friend in a hug. I desperately want to be able to put my head on my boyfriend's shoulder.

Don't get me wrong, words are still important to me. But they aren't as cheap as they used to be. When I leave a comment on another's art memorial, I feel the comment. I think I'm beginning to see that gestures and words aren't opposites, as I always assumed, but rather aspects of a greater whole. Ha, that sounds so pretentious. What I mean is, gestures deepen the words on a page. Knowing what a hug feels like adds depth to reading a description of one. Understanding longing and desire makes sympathizing with desirous characters easier.

Time is moving so slowly this morning. We changed our clocks yesterday, much later than we have in the past. I have ten minutes before I need to leave for class, but I woke this morning panicked that I'd missed my roommate's wedding and my class.

I wish I could remember these peaceful, quiet days of introspection when I'm feeling scattered and afraid. Now there's a useful skill. But I am only human, bound to make mistakes, to judge, and to turn my face away.

Oh, one more thing. I have chocolate chip cookies for all my friends.
WolfGrrl

My Boyfriend's Life

Hehehehehehe.

WolfGrrl

Halloween

I hate Halloween. I'm either sick or stressed, both, or neither at this time of year.
Ugh.

WG

Incubating Death

My RA just popped in looking for the source of a loud and suspicious noise. It wasn't emanating from my room, but as she was leaving she noticed the sign I'd posted on the door.

"What does that mean, incubating death?" she asked, worried and a bit confused.
"Oh, I put that up because I'm sick," I replied, trying to achieve a matter-of-fact tone that didn't seem to work.
"Haha, overdramatic much?"

I shrugged. For the last two days, when I've been awake I've pretty much felt as though I'm a walking corpse. Perhaps it is overdramatic; then again, I normally don't sleep fifteen out of every twenty-four hours.

Obviously, I have neither plague nor meningitis. I have a cold. Colds are the most irritating illness to have because you feel like crap and get no sympathy from the world; it's not as interesting as saying "I have a poisoned spleen," or "My leg is haunted." I chose to highlight the drama of my misery and "incubate death."

According to one of my friends, I'm not allowed to incubate death. My boyfriend took the more succinct route:

"If you die, I'll have no one to visit and will have flown thirty hours for no reason."

That put me in my place.
WolfGrrl

Murphy's Closet

Sometimes I really question my ability to dress myself. Have you ever had a day where everything you put on feels sloppy and awkward? I turn my bed, closet, dresser and desk into clothing mountains and still end up standing around in my underwear cursing.

What is one supposed to do on a day where achieving a satisfactory (we're not even going for perfect or hot, folks) look is just impossible? Usually I end up looking at the clock, panicking, and throwing on some running shorts and a t-shirt. Basic and at least comfortable.

I guess this is our old friend Murphy popping up to annoy us; I didn't think he wrote a law about clothing, but hey, given the prevelance of the issue, it seems probable.

I deliberately buy clothes in solid colors where I can mix and match to create different outfits from a few pieces. But I swear, maybe it's time to change the way I shop; this back-to-basics thing just isn't working right now. And stealing my roommate's clothes on a daily basis both sets a bad precedent and is rude.

My final outfit (after I got fed up with digging through my dresser and put on the first thing I found) is yesterday's white tank top and a black skirt. All that work, and I look...muh.

Perhaps there's a reason why the adjective of the day is so frequently 'muh.'
WolfGrrl

This Day In History

Today I want to give some love to my boyfriend, who is both dedicated and wonderful. He surprises me every day, and manages, even when I'm at my absolute crappiest, to make me smile.

I know it's a bit sappy, sweetie, but tough. I love you. You make my world a better place. Happy anniversary, M.

G

So Close, So Far

I understand how it feels to be powerless. Sometimes, the hurts aren't things you can fix. Sometimes, the reasons your loved ones suffer are unknown. I am so close to my friends, my sisters of the heart, that holding out my hand to them feels like everything I can do, and yet not enough. These girls, these women, are so strong; the strongest people, after all, are those who can smile at the little things, and whose hearts haven't been hardened by the big, tough things.

I wish I knew the words to let them know that the tunnel, the darkness, the sadness and defeat and confusion doesn't last forever. But we struggle in different ways; we come from different places, different worlds and views. The common ground we've built is strong enough to weather any storm, but our storms are unique.

I know I love them both, and that I would bleed if I thought blood would save them. But that's not helpful. That's just words.

I remember how it feels. I don't remember how it feels for them, but I remember feeling worthless and beaten down, a pawn of the world - and an unimportant pawn at that. I remember feeling like a failure. I still sometimes feel like a failure.

Those memories bring me close to them; so close, and yet so far. Everyone always pretends (and I'm guilty of this myself) that nothing takes any effort. That's a lie. Do you hear me, you two? That. Is. A. Lie. It all takes effort. Living takes effort. Failing takes effort. Overcoming the sense that you're failing takes incredible effort. It's up to you to decide if what you have, or what you can have, is worth expending that effort.

No one can tell you to expend that effort. Not me, not the school, not your parents, not the president or the military or God. No one but you can tell you to live, love, laugh, cry, do or die. I promise you that. It's terrifying to realize you are in control. It sucks sometimes when you screw up and you want to blame someone, but it's only you.

Do not blame yourself. Stop it right now, both of you. Stop, pause, rewind, listen. Listen to yourselves.

I had to hurt myself before I learned that it's ok to cry. I had to cry in the dark for years before I learned that it's ok to cry in the light. Cry, loves. Eventually you'll start to laugh. Let it go. Let it out. Scream. Throw something. Sob. Swear. Run. I tried running from my problems. I tried screaming. I tried the most passive form of action: dying. You can absolutely do what I did; I'm not sure that I would have listened if someone told me what I'm trying to tell you. But I'll never know. I'll never remember.

It feels like work and the world control your lives; don't let them. Give work and the world faces and personalities. Are they bullies? Control freaks? Parents? Overachieving classmates? Overly helpful friends? If they have faces, they have personalities, and they have something you can push against. Work and the world do not own you. You own them. You walk them beside you like well-heeled dogs. You look them in the eye and say, "This is my life. I understand my choices and what they mean. You won't make me feel guilty for choosing myself over you. I am Me, and I want to know Me without you."

It sounds silly. It sounds childish. It might even sound impossible. Pick something easy. Boss your cat around. Make your stuffed animal into a Homework Nazi. Practice saying No. Sing it in the shower. Run to its rhythm. Beat a pillow, kick a ball. Crumple up piece after piece of paper. Throw the squishy. Talk at someone. (Not to someone, but AT someone.)

It will be ok. I promise. I promise you that. The only way it won't be ok is if you give in.
Just remember: giving in isn't giving up or changing course. Giving in is doing nothing at all.

WolfGrrl

Vacationitis

I wish I was back on vacation, yet at the same time, I really like the order of my everyday life. This weekend I spent travelling between friends, visiting those I don't get to see that often and expanding my horizons. Now I am back in my dorm, facing the pile of homework with more cheer than I might otherwise.

I never gave much credence to the Eastern art of Feng Shui, but I can speak for the efficacy of re-arranging one's environment. I may unintentionally adhere to the princples of FS, but there's something relaxing about changing up my routine in a set manner. All this is a thoughtful way of saying, at around 9:00 PM last night, I moved my entire dorm room around.

I can't stay long in the world of the blog today, but I thought I'd mention something that actually relates to the theme of Teacup Humanism: it is quite a workout, moving furniture, when you're under 60 cm tall. I recommend it for those of you who dislike or don't have time for the gym. Even if you move everything back to its original location, it was still a way of spending time, unblocking your chi, and burning calories.

Can't beat that.
WolfGrrl

Midterms and Musings

I feel rather cheerful at the moment. Whoo-hoo for that, long may it last!
Let's see...fun news, fun news...

I learned I am not able to an honors thesis in the major of my choice, but that's not very fun. Hmmm... Was noch? (Yes, that's German. As I tell everyone, French is for amusement and frustration, German is for everything else, and Italian is me trying and failing to speak Spanish.)

It's almost Halloween, and that means candy-corn! I can't believe you haven't heard of candy-corn; shame on you. Well, the Happy Dinosaur won't be visiting you. I will be a cute little kitty for Halloween. I'm told it fits my personality.

Anyway, I finished my last midterm exam today; now I can breathe for four days before I begin working on the next run of papers and other delectable assignments. Poo. (I whine; it's not that bad.)

My computer arrives on Friday! I'm so excited for a New Toy! So excited that...I speak in exclamation points and elipses. Oops.

I have been making lists. You all know how much I love lists. I have one of my more interesting classes this afternoon, and then I get to go wrangle small children who are much better behaved than I first thought. I'm really liking the Happy Dinosaur. Perhaps I should include him more often. (I have so many random photos saved on my computer; you have no idea, Reader.)

I am wearing pigtails today, since it started out cold and now it's warm. Hurrrrr. These in-between seasons require three or four changes of clothes a day. Good thing I am flexible with my wardrobe. None of my professors would approve of the way this post is structured; I hope none of you are newbies to me, otherwise I'll scare you off with my wackiness. But...I am just so wacky right now!

Let's see, was kann ich auch sagen? (I miss German, but not German class, hahaha.) The clock in the belltower is chiming two...two...two... Once the holiday season arrives they set the chimes to play hymns and carols; my favourite carol is either Silent Night or Do You Hear What I Hear. Yes, I am this person that won't sing carols in December, but sings them in May instead. Shush. I'll do as I please.

I received, via email, a lovely surprise the other day; a commission I'd ordered months ago from a Polish artist who does phenomenal ink work. I can't post it here (and besides, I'm still enjoying having all of my characters together at last) for copyright reasons, hers and mine. But now that I mention it, I'm not sure I've given my little rant/spiel about my novel. Yes, I have written a novel. No, it's not finished (and somehow, I don't think it ever will be. Sighhh). Perhaps I shall write about it when I have nothing more to say on another random topic.

My computer battery is driving me insane. In other news.

Tootles! I'm off to find something else to do.
WolfGrrl

Profligate?

Sometimes I wonder whether or not I am spoiled.
No, let me rephrase.
Sometimes I wonder to what extent I am spoiled. I understand and ruefully acknolwedge that I am and always will be spoiled. Anyone growing up in a stable, loving, inclusive environment with a supportive family (and a financially solvent one) is spoiled.

But, to my parents, please rest assured that I shall probably never be one of those people who can spend large sums of money at the drop of a hat.

Today I purchased a computer with two-thirds of my own money (meaning I paid for two-thirds of the item and the tax). I have never spent so much. I agonized, aloud and privately, to myself for three days. Finally, as with most of my decisions, I got fed up with the two sides of my consciousness yelling back and forth and bought the darn thing to shut them up.

Gulp.
One parent (and my boyfriend) despise the kind of computer I just bought. The other parent is, dare I say, indifferent. However, it's me not them that purchased and will use this shiny new toy. And, as I have been told (and am beginning to see) I am 100% stubborn when I fix my mind on something. Oh dear.

I feel rational, and at the same time giddy with the knowledge that I just signed myself up for a year of no scones, no movies, and no books or clothes. I will be saving everything I make and am given in order to rebuild the nest egg I just diminished.

Was it worth it? I don't know. I honestly don't know. But, this is life after all. You make choices, rooted in good or bad desires, and they turn out to be good or bad choices. I take comfort in the fact that I a) got an almost $200 discount on this computer, and b) it will both significantly broaden my ability to function in the world and ease my travels in the spring. (Hopefully.)

Oh dear. The money. Ahhhhhh...
WolfGrrl

The Conumdrum

Well, it is a Sunday night. College students have the benefit of not dreading Sundays (unless one has an 8 AM class, in which case life is sad, move on). But, I have not been as productive as I would like today and my stomach has decided to torture me.

My conundrum is as follows: take heed of my wailing stomach and achy head and let the reading go for tonight, or struggle on (wo)manfully and attend to my obligations? I did get an unexpected nap earlier on...and I did eat too much, once again. Sighhhh.

At least I talked to my boyfriend. Poor thing, he gets neglected when my life becomes crazy. Anyway, there's not much going on in my head. Thoughts and prayers for my roommate are appreciated; she got some unexpected and frightening news this weekend while I was away. And let's all look forward (those of us who know why will agree) to next week.

I am pretty tired. It's not as if I ran a 50K race or swam the English Channel. Then again, I have disgested enough information about aviation history to tide me over for a week or so. Ugh. I can say with great assurance that I do not want to work in a field related to either historical analysis or ecological theory.

Night
WolfGrrl

Declarative Sentences

A fancy way of saying, I was accepted for a semester of interntional study.

Anyone who seen an official letter or email that begins with the word 'congratulations' can understand my state of shock, joy, and honor last night. The funny thing is, I was Skyping my boyfriend when I received the news that I would be studying abroad in his home country. He got to watch me cry in front of the computer.

This was supposed to be a post of short, declarative sentences brimming over with ecstasy. But, I am as always verbose in my delight.

This has been a Week. Two exams, two papers, the news that I shall be living overseas for almost six months... Fwah. I cannot take it in.

And tonight, some retail fun with my dearest Giggles (and Miss Gasybeans if she chooses to join us). 'Cause a grrl has got to eat!

WolfGrrl

A Long Way Gone

One day I will become the person others see in me.

I ascribe such negative views to others, but really, these are my views of myself. It is a habit that hurts me and only me. Or so I believe. Perhaps I hurt others by not seeing what they see.

I seek solace in things that make me feel worse, less so than in the past, but I still do. I am ever envious and ashamed. I am ever feeling weaker, more fragile, less competent than others.

My high school English teacher forwarded me a recommendation he wrote when I was applying to university. It had the same impact on me as my mother's synopsis of my life for the same applications. I am humbled, I am stunned, and I am shamed. Am I really so wonderful to others? Am I so unique?

I feel like the raindrops I kick off my umbrella before tossing it in the corner. I feel like the bread crumbs I brush into the trashcan. Perhaps it's the rain; gray skies demoralize me. Too much sleep depresses me. Falling behind on work makes me guilty and ashamed. Guilt and Shame. How tired I am of those two old, old acquaintances.

My roommate is studying Psychology. This week they are learning about Eating Disorders and Depression. I feel like the freaking Venn Diagram in her textbook: one part depression, one part anxiety, and one part disorder. Why is it that those who are the most organized on the outside are often the most dysfunctional on the inside? Why is my lens so warped?

And why is my first thought always "It's my fault."

Fault? It's not a fault. I know that, at least. There are things I can control - my grades, my sleep schedule, what foods I eat - and there are things far, far beyond my control: what others think of me. The weather. My biochemistry.

For me, writing is cathartic. It lets me exorcise the shadows and mud inside. But it cannot do everything. It cannot be everything. There is a quote I feel is particularly relevent to my mood right now. It goes like this:

"the number one reason why people give up so fast

is because they tend to look at how far they still have to go

rather than how far they have come." 

Yes. Yes. I always look behind me rather than ahead of me. I always see the weakness, rather than the strengths. I want to see the sunshine instead of the rain; my progress is in how much sunshine I see before the rain comes back. 

I can list the skills I recognize from long repetition: kindness, laughter, wit, intelligence, silence, sympathy, righteous rage, tolerance. They all seem so...good. 

I give away public pieces of myself without trusting that others will care for them. Perhaps this is what makes it such a task to get me to talk truly, and mean what I say? Maybe the rest of you know me better than I know myself. I think, therefore I am...or if I had my way sometimes, therefore I would not be. 

I cannot seek the comfort of blame, for I have no one to blame for my guilt, my shame, my constant need to compare and compare and compare. I should not blame myself, but in the end, it seems fairest. I am what forms me, shapes me, holds me back or sets me free. I control me. I build me. I want to assign blame, for therein I dervice order and thus comfort. But I also want to assign blame justly. No. Not justly. I have been told too often that blaming oneself is not justice. I want to assign blame without hurting someone else. No. It hurts me. Do you see how tangled this is? 

This is a very long post. My thanks to those who read it through to the end. I want to apologize, but I have been trying to push past that inclination. I don't want to be a doormat, and I know that the key to not being a doormat is not forming the habits of a doormat. (Muh.) Before I was diverted, I was thanking you, Reader, for patience. And perhaps a little understanding. 

Sorry. No. I will not apologize for being blue. Maybe somewhere, in all my musings, I have stumbled over something that resonates with one of you out there.

There. That's something I can be proud of. Mr. Moore, I'm doing my best. I'll keep trying. 

WolfGrrl

Aren't I Annoying?

When I'm bored or procrastinating or trying to remain calm, I clean. I organize.
Yesterday I organized my blog. Again.

Sorry to those of you who pop in and make a frustrated noise when you discover that I've changed things AGAIN. To those of you who like what I've done - Thanks, I try.

I would like to remind all of you about the blog I started this spring with my friend gasybeans. She and I both enjoy writing, (even if we're slack about posting what we write). I have updated, and I'll try to do so more often and encourage her to do the same. We do have busy lives, however, so promises are only as good as the motivation behind them. The link is here: Sketchy Scribbles

Well. Let's see...

I slept in. What is this new business of staying up all night and then sleeping all morning? I never understood it when my sister was going through this phase, perhaps because my teenage years were spent in anxious depression. Fwah. Whatever. I need to write a paper, and reader, the thought is both demoralizing and scary. My poor professor; I promised to have the draft done byThursday for him to critique. I think we all know that didn't happen.

It's time to get up. I have a rather productive day to get going on, although part of me doesn't want to wake my roommate. (She can sleep for ten hours or more at a time; I am in awe.)

I wish you all a cheerful Saturday (oh God, it's homecoming, isn't it? Crap. For those that don't know, Homecoming in an American tradition involving football, lots of university alums, alcohol, and food. And loud music.) It might be evil of me, but I hope the rain continues.

Oh, I'm going to pay for that comment karma-wise.

Whoops.
WolfGrrl

My Life as a Yo-Yo

I swear, there are times in my life where I feel like a yo-yo.
I go from being hostile enough to combust to sitting in tears.
I bounce between grief and laughter. Peace and pain.

Ugh.
However, I seem to be in the peaceful phase right now.
It's a nice place to be.
At peace.

WolfGrrl

The Pack

Today I did not want to get out of bed.

I state this in the conspiratorial tone of a confession; I am somewhat ashamed of my inability to control my baser laziness. But, something told me when my alarm went off at 5:30 AM that it wasn't going to be a productive day.

So far, it hasn't been. I am feeling harried and chased, as though my responsibilities have grown teeth and a cruel inclination to follow me wherever I go. I attended my morning classes with a sense of discombobulation that has been elevated slightly by friends, the arrival of an unwelcome guest, and chocolate. The fact remains, however, that I have obligations that are now demanding my attention.

I hear you, yowling at me from my books, my computer, the silent walls of a judgmental library. I hear you. Fine. I'm on my way.

WolfGrrl

So Marshmallows...

Grrrr.
I shouldn't complain: my roommate's notoriously picky mother likes me. But she managed to buy a food that has had the same impact on me as Nutella. Oh dear.

Are you ready for this? It is such an American product (lol). The item is basically dried mini-marshmallows used for decorating cakes, cupcakes, etc. I have eaten half the jar between 10 AM this morning and 1:30 PM.

Daaaaaaaaaaaaa. 

That aside, my delightful boyfriend (manfriend? No, that sounds creepy. But he's hardly a boy at twenty! Well, whatever) has written me a poem. Surprise poem! And after I failed to wake up this morning in time to talk to him. Sadness.

It has been a busy day. Starting off with a nightmare, then realizing I missed my alarm, washing my hair (always a task), eating marshmallows, being attacked by chipmunks, reading for class in class, paying attention in class and having fun (who would have thought that I LIKE learning about international defense systems and policies?), lunch in the room with my roomie, and more marshmallows.

Hi. I had a lot of sugar. But no fat. Nyah-nyah.

WolfGrrl

My Diet According to M

According to my boyfriend I eat:

Cake
Salad
Cheerios
Fruit
Granola.

The sad things are, he lives half-way across the world, and this is my diet.

WolfGrrl

Rice

I dislike being drowned and then steamed while trying to go to class.
Next time, I'll stay in bed rather than attend to my education.
I am not rice. Don't cook and steam me.

WolfGrrl

Looking for Happiness

There are some things that make Mondays depressing (yes, even in college). But, usually something swings around and I can laugh off my sulk and turn my face up to the rain. Here are some things I noticed today that made it wonderful:

Making my boyfriend smile
Chocolate M&M cookies in the dining hall
Lunch with my roommate
Fascinating lecture topics
The Heath Ledger look-alike in class
Laughter
Walking
Cool air and a breeze
Waking up refreshed
Clean hair
Choosing the right shoes for the rain
Smiling

What are some of your happy things?
WolfGrrl

Advice Skills

I wish I was better at giving advice. Part of the reason I feel that I don't contribute as much to others' lives is that I'm not so good at either giving or asking for advice. I don't know if I should work to develop this skill, or not.

As I grow older I realize that everyone has problems. Everyone suffers, some more vocally or publically than others. I am a judgmental person. I don't intend to be; I don't go out into the world with the idea of comparing myself to others. It happens, less so than it used to, but it still happens. That I am working to mitigate. I don't want to derive pleasure from making others seem small, even if the shrinking process is only in my mind.

Maybe one day I'll be able to ask for advice and apply it, rather than just listening to it and then doing what I think is best. As I've said before, my best choices have occurred when I followed my instincts or asked for help.

I also have trouble following my own advice. Most of what I know I've learned through trial and error, aka personal experience. No, I've never caught and killed and eaten a fish (my sister has though). I've never been in an automobile accident, or a personal trauma. I'm ordinary, and moderately functional. Yay me! (Yes, I do celebrate little things.)

A friend of mine from overseas recently came to visit, and she had each of us write some words of advice in a book for her to keep. They could be useful, funny, bizarre, or downright disturbing bits of advice; the point was, it gave her something to connect to us. The idea made me think and now I'd like to try a slightly different version of that.

I know a lot of you don't leave comments (most of you, I believe, read, nod, laugh or frown, and move on with your lives). But if you have a moment, or you find yourself particularly inspired, please leave me a piece of advice in the comments below. I promise to read, keep, and try to apply them to my life!

In the meantime, here are some of mine:

- If you look good, you'll feel OK
- Celebrate the small things
- Always be polite and prompt(ish)
- Write your paper a week before it's due, ignore it for two days, then edit it
- If the guilt outweighs the pleasure, don't do it
- Traffic lights are perverse; you can't win against them so don't try
- Failure is a good motivator
- Driving on the wrong side of the road isn't a good idea
- You'll always make a mistake within the first three attempts
- Ask yourself what kind of person this choice/action would make you
- Have faith (the type is up to you)
- Just keep walking, no matter how cold, dark, or alone you feel
- Look at the stars sometimes
- Go for walks
- Naptime is not just for babies
- Music is good
- Factor in travel time

WolfGrrl

Head Against the Wall

Banging my head against the wall today.
I don't know why things seem to be difficult; maybe it's my mood.
Maybe it's because I'm resisting the urge to scarf down sugary things.
Maybe it's the atmosphere on campus.
Maybe it's just a Down Mood.

Go away, go away. I don't want to be afflicted with bad moods today.

WolfGrrl

WolfGrrl is...

Some of you may remember when I took the "What is my Daemon" test about a year ago. Since then I've changed quite a bit, moving in a more balanced direction. I decided I wanted to take the test again (I will post the link for curious readers). Read on to find out who/what WolfGrrl is. I was pleased. (My boyfriend is less so, because he's slower than me about answering questions, haha.)

"In a way, you are a truly balanced person. You have a good sense of self, but you also have periods of worry and self doubt. You don't like to be alone alot; nor do you like to be constantly surrounded. You are shy in some situations and bold in others. You can tell people how you feel, but you don't wear your heart on your sleeve. You aren't 'too' anything: too shy, too aggressive, too extroverted, too introverted. You are, at any given time, any combination of these things.

"You tend to adapt to the situations in which you find yourself. With some people you are quiet and sensitive; with others, you're loud and boisterous. People tend to perceive you as they want to perceive you and sometimes they are surprised when you behave in a way that's different from their perception. Some people might even idealize you. Does anyone know the 'real' you?

"Your daemon would represent your multi-faceted and ever changing personality, as well as people's tendency to idealize you. He would become angry when you're calm, serene when you're ruffled, and always be the voice of reason and emotion in your ear.

Suggested forms: Swan, Koala, Panda, WOLF"

Here's the link: http://helloquizzy.okcupid.com/tests/the-golden-compass-daemon-test/

EDIT: My boyfriend got the EXACT SAME RESULT. There was no sharing of the information during the test.

WolfGrrl

Free Agents and Love

How do you protect the ones you love? Obviously, the quick answer is that you can't. The world is bigger, louder and meaner. So why are we driven by these incredible urges to protect those we consider 'ours?'

I don't know the answer to this question and it's not only causing me to re-evaluate how I view my parents, but how I view myself. Good Lord, being an adult isn't easy, but this seems to extend beyond boundaries of age or gender.

I want to be a child, with a child's ability to find an authority figure who'll take care of me. Yeah... That's not gonna happen anymore. I take care of myself. I allow others to take care of me.

I love my friends. I love my boyfriend. This world ain't so bad a place, but... But. Sometimes it is mean. Sometimes people are mean, and you can't know why.

Is there a message in this post besides my wanting to be a child? I don't know. (Apparently, there are a lot of things I don't know. Joy.) Maybe my message, my thought-for-a-day, is to be kind. To be attentive. To be fierce in the defense of those you love.

I cannot stand between my loved ones and the world. I can defend them, I can fight for them, and I can talk them down from a ledge or a bad decision. How do you balance love and protection? In my mind, they come together. The only problem is, too much of either one and suddenly I'm at risk.

I make choices. I am a free agent. So is my boyfriend. So are my friends. We all make choices, good, bad, ugly or lucky. When I remember that, it makes me feel calmer. When I think about our agency, our ability to change our lives and directions, I don't feel so helpless.

In Political Science we're learning about the danger of generalizing. I like generalities. I like labels. They make my world orderly, and I LOVE orderly worlds. But the world isn't orderly or general. (Stupid dichotomies.) The world is the world, etc. So that makes me...me. A free agent of the world.

Who else wants to be a free agent? It's a bit like going for a tethered hot air balloon ride. You fly...to a point. I'm connected to friends and family by love. What a strange, wonderful, confusing emotion it is! I think you'll know it when you stumble over it. If I was going to write The Greatest Novel of All Time (no Reader, my ego isn't quite that big) I'd write it around the myriad variations of love. I think it's the most fascinating topic of all.

It sure fascinates me.

Dios mio
WolfGrrl

La-Da-Da-Da-Daaaaaaa

I have no idea why that came up. Perhaps because I just finished baking. With, erm, chocolate.

Today is Friday, readers, and we all know what that means. No homework is being done tonight, I assure you! I am off with some friends to welcome the weekend and avoid the assignments that come with Monday morning. We're young and free and living off our benevolent parents; we can goof off now and then.

So, let me celebrate off my extra cookie-weight by dancing around at midnight in the (possible thunderstorm) or staying up until dawn for a chatter-session with friends and too many movies. We've got The Hunger Games and Beauty and the Beast lined up for tonight.

It's gonna be awesome.
Have yourself a happy Friday.

WolfGrrl

Yup

Falling in love is wonderful...and scary as hell. But I sure wouldn't trade it for perfect grades, a million bucks, or world peace.

This is my boyfriend and me. 

Three guesses who's who.

WolfGrrl

The Little Engine That Did

Yesterday afternoon, as I was vegetating, I happened upon a graduation speech given by two men whose comedic work I've admired for the past year. They mentioned, among other things, the arrival of the graduates in a world called "Reality."

Their speech got me thinking and, (typically), I had an epiphany about eighteen hours later as I was lying in bed letting my thoughts wander.

I feel that I have found my place in the world. Despite my recent worry that I don't know what I'm doing (it's normal, but that doesn't make it less terrifying), I do think that I've found what most people set out into the world looking for. I have arrived.

My arrival is rooted in the love I have for my boyfriend; the laughter I share with my friends; the support I seek from all of them and the lessons we teach one another. I am more open; I share more of myself with the world. I try. Trying is 99% of arriving, folks. This little engine finally made it over the top of the mountain.

It's interesting for me as an anthropologist to be studying the social constructs of 'Self' and 'Other' and realize just how definite my thoughts on those are. I am a 'Self.' I see 'Otherness' as the interactions between selves. Bumping into others, learning from or about others, causes one to define a view of oneself as A or B or X.

I am a 'Self.' For a long time I was an 'Other' even to myself (there's a metaphysical tangle for ya). But this Little Engine chugged along, not very fast and not very smoothly, until magically it arrived at the top of the mountain and found a nice, gently curving line of track.

The hard part is over, everyone. I hope you'll celebrate with me. I have found a family that will stay with me for as long as possible. I have found people to love, who love me undeservedly and unreservedly.

I did. You can too. I hope this realization gives you as much lift as it's given me.

Adios,
WolfGrrl

Stars

I love the film Tangled. Rapunzel is not my favorite fairytale, nor am I universally fond of Disney films. But I adore that film. I really do.

I love the stars. I love the way they sparkle, they way they peep down on us and the way they provide a constant source of wonder, hope, and delight. And right now I just feel as though the world is worth celebrating.

No, it's not Friday. It's not a holiday, or a weekend, or a day off. It's an ordinary school day, an ordinary work day. And yet...and yet.

If I was going to pick something completely random to celebrate, I'd celebrate the culture of inspirational videos and images that has sprung up on the internet. I love watching Susan Boyle sing for the first time on Britain's Got Talent; it reminds me how small we all are, and how large we can loom when we dare to try. I'm sure there's a reason we call celebrities 'stars.'

The sky is gray, my roommate is suffering computer issues, and my boyfriend and father are continents away. And yet...and yet.

There are stars, from the plastic fluorescent one on my dorm ceiling to the burning balls of gas millions of lightyears away. There are friends, dreams, presents, kisses, hugs, cakes and videos, messages and funny jokes to keep me smiling.

Smile! It's addictive. And watch the stars. It's soothing.

WolfGrrl

Week of Welcome

Week of Welcome is a tradition at my university honoring the freshmen (or first-year) students. Events, speakers, games and prizes are all part of the WoW agenda, but I rarely attend given how much I dislike crowds.

This year, my WoW experience is turned more onto my dear friends, some of whom I haven't seen in person for three or four months! I want to welcome my lovely roommate Giggles back to campus, and welcome all the new friends we're sure to find in our (eek!) grown-up classes. I guess I should welcome my classes, otherwise they'll put a curse on me for excluding them from my anticipatory joy. Yes, even you, scary PWAD 350 course. Welcome.

And that's really all. I'm late for my bus (yup, definitely back at school).

Adios, all!
I'll update when I can.

WolfGrrl

The Things That Still Hurt

Isn't is weird how some things long in the past can still sting like the wounds were fresh?

I'm grateful to be blessed with a rotten memory; as I grow happier in my Now, I tend to forget the cringe-worthy events of my Then. But there are some things no one ever really forgets, and even in my happiest moments these things spring up and surprise me.

Jealousy. Lord, I live for the day when I stop being jealous (my odds are not good on that, but whatever). There are people I'm jealous of for reasons that make my heart hurt. And yet, the sting is there every time I interact with these people.

Grief. I haven't had much experience with grief and grieving, but there are two things that make me sad (and one is most definitely not the film Titanic). Loss is a bit different from Grief, but it follows a similar path. Consequently, there are things I have Lost that I mourn.

Regret. Oh, I have a thousand regrets. Friends I abandoned, relationships I struggled to maintain or end, associations I can't seem to shake.

Shame. Oh yeah. Awkward childhood moments, old views of the world, old views of myself - the list is long. I'm working on not being bitter, but it's a work in progress.

Sometimes I feel that others judge me for being happy. I have a bad track record, admittedly, but I'm frustrated at times because I want others to be happy for me instead of questioning my happiness. It's a novelty for me, remember. I'm still learning how to function in the world of optimism. Don't think that because I've learned to smile and mean it I've forgotten the things that still hurt, the people I've left behind or the memories that haunt me.

I haven't.

WolfGrrl

Crisis Management

I always wondered if I'd inherited my mother's ability to manage a crisis. This weekend, I had my chance to find out.

I arrived home from a four day trip to DC to discover my parents at the hospital and the house a mess. Everyone is fine now, but things were pretty tense there for a while and I found myself thrown into the position of telephone operator, cook, housekeeper, and surrogate parent/caregiver.

It was an interesting 48 hours, with my sister being stricken ill in the wee hours of Monday morning and neither parent home to tend her. But I finally learned the answer to my long-unspoken question: Will I be able to cope in crisis?

Yup. Hey, I even managed to make a full meal for four in under two hours. For those of you who've never tried it, pie crust is a pain in the butt to make...but worth the inevitable cursing and crying.

Oh. And I love my boyfriend. He stayed with me all night, made sure I slept, and generally refused to let me fall apart. Thank you, darling. I try to look at everything as training for the future, and I know I can count on you to be there for me, no matter what (or where).

And think of the benefits! You get a Crisis Management team that also makes pies! Hehehe.

WolfGrrl

A Life Worth Living

It's 10:30 at night and I have managed to break my keyboard and lose my chance at the bathroom. Wonderful. Maybe I should take a hint and go to sleep.

As I sit here pondering random things like cake fondant, Wacom tablets, toilets, and the color red, it occurred to me that I have a little story to share with the world.

As you all know, I spent many years being depressed and anxious (and finally anorexic) without really knowing why. The more I look into these things, the more I begin to understand that there is a physiological reason for my misery, and a chemical reason why my meds have worked so well, so quickly.

The human brain produces all kinds of chemicals that control different, vital functions. I was born lacking the chemical responsible for self-soothing. There's evidence of this (which I've only recently put together) that goes back to when I was an infant. I find Psychology and the human mind fascinating; if it weren't for Chemistry (and Biology) I'd probably be a Psych major at school. I am genetically and environmentally disposed to anxiety, but the lack of the chemical serotonin amplifies ordinary anxiety into a debilitating problem.

I can remember years where I wasn't motivated to do anything; the only reasons I did accomplish anything were routine, force of will, and guilt. It's difficult to describe being completely disengaged from the world, because I'm not sure many people understand how severe it is. Imagine viewing everyone and everything from behind a layer of glass; you can hear others, see others, and interact with others - to a point. But they lack almost all understanding of you, and you of them. Ah, my metaphors are no good tonight. Suffice to say, people who cannot self-soothe lead very rough lives due to being under constant, high levels of stress. My father is a perfect example of this, and four months ago, so was I.

I would like to take this moment to speak to people who happen to read this blog and who might be depressed. I'm sorry for you; not because you can't handle what you've been given, but because you have a long, hard road ahead of you and the work never ends. But let me mention, (lest you think I support giving in to depression), that it DOES get better. I promise it does.

There's a saying floating around in therapists' offices and groups: Build a life worth living. Overcoming depression is a choice and a fight; the first few steps are incredibly difficult, and almost impossible to take alone. I hope that you are blessed with friends and family who don't let you shove them away; I know I am. These people, so stubborn and so convinced of the good you can't see in yourself, are the true heroes of any fight against depression. They haul you up because - difficult as it is to believe - there is something good in you that you can't see; you're not worthless, not hopeless, not lost or broken.

I lack the ability to calm myself down. I'm a reluctant drug user, but sometimes there is such a thing as "better living through chemsitry." (Never thought I'd say those words, haha.) Please don't be afraid to try the medicines available to you; despite the constant propaganda about drug companies and unnecessary drug use, these medicines were developed for a reason. You are that reason. I am that reason. Anyone whose life is improved, even the tiniest bit, is the reason for all that research.

To the people who I used to be, wherever you are, whoever you are: we hear you. The world hasn't abandoned you; you aren't alone. There is something more than darkness, than sadness, than misery. You'll have to find a way to take your first step that works for you; I don't even remember mine. But the work and the fight are worth the effort...as I am reminded every single day, in thousands of ways.

Do not give up, do not give in. Build a life worth living. Find one thing you love, like, or laugh at. Just one thing.

Just keep looking. 

WolfGrrl

Ahem

May we forever be lovers,

May we forever be friends,

And should we hurt each other,

May we quickly make amends.

May we enjoy our passion,

But never let compassion die,

Thinking in selfless terms as We,

Never emphasizing I. 

May we forever be soul-mates, 

May our love eternally last,

May the food of love sustain us,

May we never have to fast. 

May we use each other's strengths, 

When we are feeling weak,

May we both learn to compromise,

And always as one voice speak. 

May we never keep dark secrets,

May we never tell each other lies,

May we both work unceasingly,

To ensure our love never dies. 

Clive Blake 

WolfGrrl

Future Thoughts

They are on my mind as I think about money, careers, countries...

Emilie Autumn
Jordan Cecil

WolfGrrl

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