What's it been? Six weeks or so? I'm a bit too lazy to check the date of my last entry, so you can do that yourself if it tickles your fancy. What's a fancy, anyway? I really want to know. Answers would be appreciated.
Annnnnnnnyhoo, I just bullshitted my way through my last paper for the summer semester for my international politics class. Insert me puking right here. What a horrible, horrible way to spend the first six weeks of summer vacation, splitting time between two boring as fuck classes, being on-call, and watching a whole lot of rain fall down and make everything smell like earth worms. I'm glad that it's over because now I can do more important things, like attempt to get laid.
My summer goal was to have a lot of sex. So far, I've had none. Not even a teensy bit. Not even a hand up my thigh. Oh, wait, that did happen, but it was my pudgy, 55 year old gynecologist's hand that was smothered in about a pound of KY Jelly. Isn't it just a bit depressing that the most action I've gotten recently has been from my cooch doctor? How disappointing.
Although my sex life is at a stalemate, my professional life has shortly become very eventful. Although I'm not a certified teacher yet, I'm helping with a summer academy program at a local high school that helps incoming freshman who need a little academic booster transition from junior high to the real deal. The teachers that I'm working with have been very encouraging and insightful and I'm beyond grateful for their patience and willingness to let me participate in their classroom. One teacher in particular has really helped me to entirely solidify my choice to enter in the education field. He's one of those rare people who can relate to anyone and completely light up a room just by standing in it. The way he works with the kids is nothing short of amazing and it is because of hearing about teachers like him and wondering why I never had any that made me want to become a teacher.
Being on the other side of the classroom is kind of awkward because I still feel like a 15 year old most of the time. I never realized how much teachers can hear and comprehend of hallway talk during passing periods. Yikes, what my teachers must have thought of my potty mouth when I was a kid. It's also amazing how complex a teacher's job is. Not only does a teacher instruct the required curriculum, but if they are a good teacher, they learn about their students and pick up on what is working for them and what isn't. One student in my class has recently lost her mother due to breast cancer and her father has started dating again, making her very upset, but she feels that she can't talk to him about. Sometimes when the kids are doing a worksheet or doing small group work, I look at her and see her kind of staring off into space and I wonder what she's thinking about. I wonder how any kid can survive high school with only one parent and I feel a strong urge to hug her and try to convince her that everything will be okay when even I'm unsure that it will be. She's very quiet and timid and I often think about if she was this way before her mom got sick. She's very busty and dresses very modestly and I wonder who will take her shopping for her first homecoming dress. Will they know what dress type will flatter her? Another student is deaf in one ear and can hardly hear what you say to him, but he is so intuitive that you mostly forget that he's using all of his effort just to hear what you're saying to him. In an essay assignment where his peers were writing about generic things such as baseball, friends, love, music, etc., this kid wrote about eternal suffering. He did a damn good job of it, too, which almost makes it worse because in doing so, it made me wonder what he's gone through to know what eternal suffering is.
I can already tell that I am going to love my career, which is a relief, of course, but it also feels like I have a newfound purpose in my life, kind of like the links are all being connected and that it's going in the right direction. It makes me sleep easier at night knowing that I can enjoy going to work each day and feeling that I may be making a difference to a kid who really needs it in their life.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Hello, old friend
I'm alive and well, thanks for the concern. My life has been a shitshow for the last six weeks and I'm finally able to take a little "me" time. It would take forever to talk about all the stuff that has happened since my last post, so I'm going to sum it up succinctly.
Made it through my 19 credit hour semester with six As and one B (in my Christian Marriage class).
Got hired to be a summer RA. Meaning I'm living on campus this summer.
Enrolled to take two courses over the summer so I can graduate next May. The courses are International Politics and Principles of Microeconomics. I'm not looking forward to either class.
My sister and her boyfriend moved into a newly build house.
My little sister had her first boyfriend. For a day. Before bitchy 11-12 year old whores made up a story about how he didn't really like her. She dumped him via text. Actually, their whole relationship was probably a series of about ten text messages. Great.
My little sister was hospitalized for an ovarian cyst. There is a history on both sides of my family of polycystic ovarian syndrome as well as endometriosis. I'm the only female on both sides of my family over the age of 15 that does not suffer from either syndrome. The cyst ruptured and she has been fine since, but I was extremely emotional about it and realized how a mother must feel when they hear any bad news about their child's health.
I'm working over the summer at a summer academy, kind of like summer school, but more of a transition for 8th graders becoming high school freshmen, at a local high school. Hopefully this will look great on a resume and get me a job, because they're scarce in my field.
On to something that I wish to elaborate on. Douchebag got engaged! If you don't remember him, I hooked up with him last Fall. I found on Facebook, of course. It is the source of all knowledge. He hasn't even been dating this girl for even six months yet and he already proposed? What the effffff, man? I laughed about it and then thought she might be preggers because I assume she's pretty fertile, having two children already and only being 19 years old. I am SO tempted to write on his facebook wall, "Congrats. Did'ya knock her up??" But that may be a teensy bit too bitchy for me to do. I'm seriously considering it though and as of now, it could go either way.
I've been working at my main job a lot lately because now that I am on summer break, I'm able to work forty hours a week instead of the usual twenty that I have during the school year. With working, unpacking, doing summer school, and being a Summer RA, I'm pretty tired most of the time. However, I do like to spend a good half hour a night masturbating with the new vibrator. It's insane how amazing that thing is.
On another note, Rocker (hopefully you haven't forgotten about him) is still around. I've gotten pissed at him a lot in the last month or so because he tends to disappear on the weekends. I don't trust him basically at all. I still talk to him, but not like I used to and I think he's too blind to see it yet. It's irritating that in my world of everyone is engaged and has found their soulmate, that I am the lone chick who wants to go out, not to find a husband, but just have some fun. When did being independent and single become something that makes you feel isolated?
It's 9:33, and I am off to bed. Hope everyone is well!
Made it through my 19 credit hour semester with six As and one B (in my Christian Marriage class).
Got hired to be a summer RA. Meaning I'm living on campus this summer.
Enrolled to take two courses over the summer so I can graduate next May. The courses are International Politics and Principles of Microeconomics. I'm not looking forward to either class.
My sister and her boyfriend moved into a newly build house.
My little sister had her first boyfriend. For a day. Before bitchy 11-12 year old whores made up a story about how he didn't really like her. She dumped him via text. Actually, their whole relationship was probably a series of about ten text messages. Great.
My little sister was hospitalized for an ovarian cyst. There is a history on both sides of my family of polycystic ovarian syndrome as well as endometriosis. I'm the only female on both sides of my family over the age of 15 that does not suffer from either syndrome. The cyst ruptured and she has been fine since, but I was extremely emotional about it and realized how a mother must feel when they hear any bad news about their child's health.
I'm working over the summer at a summer academy, kind of like summer school, but more of a transition for 8th graders becoming high school freshmen, at a local high school. Hopefully this will look great on a resume and get me a job, because they're scarce in my field.
On to something that I wish to elaborate on. Douchebag got engaged! If you don't remember him, I hooked up with him last Fall. I found on Facebook, of course. It is the source of all knowledge. He hasn't even been dating this girl for even six months yet and he already proposed? What the effffff, man? I laughed about it and then thought she might be preggers because I assume she's pretty fertile, having two children already and only being 19 years old. I am SO tempted to write on his facebook wall, "Congrats. Did'ya knock her up??" But that may be a teensy bit too bitchy for me to do. I'm seriously considering it though and as of now, it could go either way.
I've been working at my main job a lot lately because now that I am on summer break, I'm able to work forty hours a week instead of the usual twenty that I have during the school year. With working, unpacking, doing summer school, and being a Summer RA, I'm pretty tired most of the time. However, I do like to spend a good half hour a night masturbating with the new vibrator. It's insane how amazing that thing is.
On another note, Rocker (hopefully you haven't forgotten about him) is still around. I've gotten pissed at him a lot in the last month or so because he tends to disappear on the weekends. I don't trust him basically at all. I still talk to him, but not like I used to and I think he's too blind to see it yet. It's irritating that in my world of everyone is engaged and has found their soulmate, that I am the lone chick who wants to go out, not to find a husband, but just have some fun. When did being independent and single become something that makes you feel isolated?
It's 9:33, and I am off to bed. Hope everyone is well!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The title's unnecessary
I wrote this poem after listening to some pissed off chick music. This includes some Alanis Morrisette, Amy Winehouse, and a bunch of others. Please don't read it and think that I've survived some terrible relationship. All of mine have been relatively tame with the usual cause for heartbreak, not abuse. I wrote it because I felt like writing something vengeful and if I had been in an abusive relationship, I'd like to think that this would be my big "Fuck You" before I peaced out.
Enjoy.
Tell me I won't leave, that I don't have a chance
Do you believe me now without the weakness behind my glance?
Tell me that I can't do any better and I'll prove you wrong,
Push me against the wall and beat me with your words; I've already heard this song.
Flashes of you on top of me, staring into your black eyes and your cold heart,
You are the one thing in my life that I wish I would have never let start.
Grip my neck and choke it out of me, do you want to know all of my lies?
Let's start with fucking you disgusted me and how I hate having you between my thighs.
It kills you to see me walk away, having lost so many battles but I'm the victor of this war,
I see your anger peak as you realize that you'll never be able again to treat me like your whore.
PS-I am no longer feeling like I'm going to have a panic attack, so that is the good news.
Enjoy.
Tell me I won't leave, that I don't have a chance
Do you believe me now without the weakness behind my glance?
Tell me that I can't do any better and I'll prove you wrong,
Push me against the wall and beat me with your words; I've already heard this song.
Flashes of you on top of me, staring into your black eyes and your cold heart,
You are the one thing in my life that I wish I would have never let start.
Grip my neck and choke it out of me, do you want to know all of my lies?
Let's start with fucking you disgusted me and how I hate having you between my thighs.
It kills you to see me walk away, having lost so many battles but I'm the victor of this war,
I see your anger peak as you realize that you'll never be able again to treat me like your whore.
PS-I am no longer feeling like I'm going to have a panic attack, so that is the good news.
Monday, March 23, 2009
I'm drowning
Today I looked at my school's course schedule for the Summer and Fall 2009 terms. Since my second semester of freshmen year, I have either taken 18-19 credit hours per semester, and during four of these semesters, I have had to complete an honors contract in four courses that is a requirement to be in the honor society of which I am a part of. Honors contracts mean doing 10% more work than the average student, but sometimes teachers have a hard time gauging what is an appropriate amount of extra work.
I'm saying all this because I'm about three seconds away from having a full on panic attack. Next year will be my senior year of college and I am struggling to work out a plan that will allow me to graduate next May. As far as I can tell, thanks to the many general education requirements that my liberal arts school has, I will need to take 9 credit hours this summer so that I don't overwhelm myself while I do my first round of student teaching in the fall. 9 credit hours during the summer translates to roughly $4,050; $450 per credit hour. Add in an extra $200 because two of the classes are online and about another $200 for books and I'm looking at being forced to take out a $4,600 loan for the fucking summer. Not to mention my already existing loans, which last time I checked will render me at least $42,000 in debt (including interest) by the time I graduate. Oh, but I get a six month grace period before I have to start making payments...how generous of the loan company.
I'm flipping out. The economy sucks, I probably won't have an college experience related job prospects in the education field when I graduate, meaning that I'll be living in my parents' house, trying to put every penny I earn towards paying off my student loans because I don't want to get married or have kids before I can get my loans paid off. The way it looks now, if I pay 6% of my loan each month (roughly $2500) (This is me assuming that I can get a job that will pay at least $38,000 annually) then I will be able to pay off my loan in 15-16 months......but realistically that won't happen at all.
I've never felt so much pressure about something that I can't control in my life. I can't help that my parents didn't save money for my college. I can't help that I got sick during high school and my grades weren't stellar, thus reducing my academic scholarships from my school. I can't help that my school doesn't look at academic scholarships on a yearly basis, thus making my college grades insignificant in regards to financial aid rewards.
I feel like I'm being strangled by the real world and that this feeling is what impending adulthood will be all about. I've never felt so broke, helpless, and unstable. My car won't start, I have to find a summer job dealing with teaching/watching kids so that I can write that on my resume next year, I have to pass my content test with flying colors so I don't have to pay another $100 to take the fucker again in a few months. The list could go on, but I don't really want it to. Oh, and I'm not getting any action. Awesome. I want to go to sleep and wake up 18 again and just starting college without a care in the world. I want to wake up with someone that can support me financially, emotionally, and physically. I want to wake up to something different. And I'm trying really hard not to turn back to cutting to help me ease the stress.
I'm saying all this because I'm about three seconds away from having a full on panic attack. Next year will be my senior year of college and I am struggling to work out a plan that will allow me to graduate next May. As far as I can tell, thanks to the many general education requirements that my liberal arts school has, I will need to take 9 credit hours this summer so that I don't overwhelm myself while I do my first round of student teaching in the fall. 9 credit hours during the summer translates to roughly $4,050; $450 per credit hour. Add in an extra $200 because two of the classes are online and about another $200 for books and I'm looking at being forced to take out a $4,600 loan for the fucking summer. Not to mention my already existing loans, which last time I checked will render me at least $42,000 in debt (including interest) by the time I graduate. Oh, but I get a six month grace period before I have to start making payments...how generous of the loan company.
I'm flipping out. The economy sucks, I probably won't have an college experience related job prospects in the education field when I graduate, meaning that I'll be living in my parents' house, trying to put every penny I earn towards paying off my student loans because I don't want to get married or have kids before I can get my loans paid off. The way it looks now, if I pay 6% of my loan each month (roughly $2500) (This is me assuming that I can get a job that will pay at least $38,000 annually) then I will be able to pay off my loan in 15-16 months......but realistically that won't happen at all.
I've never felt so much pressure about something that I can't control in my life. I can't help that my parents didn't save money for my college. I can't help that I got sick during high school and my grades weren't stellar, thus reducing my academic scholarships from my school. I can't help that my school doesn't look at academic scholarships on a yearly basis, thus making my college grades insignificant in regards to financial aid rewards.
I feel like I'm being strangled by the real world and that this feeling is what impending adulthood will be all about. I've never felt so broke, helpless, and unstable. My car won't start, I have to find a summer job dealing with teaching/watching kids so that I can write that on my resume next year, I have to pass my content test with flying colors so I don't have to pay another $100 to take the fucker again in a few months. The list could go on, but I don't really want it to. Oh, and I'm not getting any action. Awesome. I want to go to sleep and wake up 18 again and just starting college without a care in the world. I want to wake up with someone that can support me financially, emotionally, and physically. I want to wake up to something different. And I'm trying really hard not to turn back to cutting to help me ease the stress.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Even I can't make this funny
I just got back from a wake that was for a friend's mom. She was only 49 years old and left behind three children. I'm not particularly close with this girl, but I've known her for three years and have worked with her on the RA staff this past year, so I felt like I should go to the wake, even if it was briefly, to at least show her some support and express my condolences-which I'll admit came out better when I wrote them in the card than when I tried to express them verbally.
The only people close to me that have ever died have been above the age of 65, so I can't say that I can relate to someone who lost a loved one that was taken too early. The friend's mom finally succumbed to multiple illnesses, the last of which was lymphoma, after being sick for quite sometime, so I suppose it was not sudden, but it still doesn't ease the pain of losing your mother at 49.
The hardest part at the wake was looking at my friend's dad, watching him stoically greet guests as he stood near his wife's coffin. He embraced each person that greeted him like he was hugging a long lost friend. It really moved me and I was surprised by my emotions. I watched him the entire time I was there, thinking how difficult it must be to see your two daughters who look exactly like your wife and how hard it must be to try to stay strong from them and your son, who is about to be married. He would periodically glance at his wife's lifeless body laid out before family and friends and this truly broke my heart. The love that they must have shared was so obvious that it filled the room and was clearly shown in his eyes.
Then I thought about all that my friend's mother would be missing. Her eldest daughter's college graduation, her youngest daughter's high school graduation, her only son being married, and the countless other moments that will occur in their lives without their mother being at their side to support them, comfort them, embrace them.
My mind drifted as I tried not to think about my mom or dad passing away, but it was inevitable in this environment I suppose. I thanked God that my parents are relatively healthy, besides being fucking chimneys, and I prayed that they would be around for a long time to come.
I never know how to respond to hearing that someone's relative or friend died. I do genuinely feel sympathetic, but I have no idea how to express it. I don't know what's appropriate or what's inappropriate, so sometimes I awkwardly hug the person, pat them on the back, and just say the generic "I'm sorry for your loss, let me know if you need anything." Honestly, when my grandma died a few years ago, I hated when people told me, "Let me know if you need anything." What the fuck am I going to need that you can offer me? Some booze? Some money? How about my grandma back for another 15-20 years? It's so fucking generic, but we all say it, and I suppose a good percentage of us mean it. Still, I can't compare the experience of losing a grandparent to a mother, no matter how close I was with my grandma, it just isn't the same.
My friend held up very well during the time I was at the wake. Obviously the family knew it was coming for some time, but how can the death of your mother at only 49 years old not be shocking in some manner? She didn't cry that I saw, she smiled, she held a baby, she thanked her friends for coming, she graciously accepted cards and flowers. She went through the motions so well that I felt like it was going to be very hard for her later when there aren't motions to take or hundreds of people around, watching your every move, thinking that you're going to fall and being humbled by your strength.
I cry the hardest when I'm alone and I feel like she will, too. There's nothing I can say to make any of it better or less tragic, so all I can do is keep the family in my thoughts and prayers and hope that their memories of their mom and wife will keep them comforted for the rest of their lives.
The only people close to me that have ever died have been above the age of 65, so I can't say that I can relate to someone who lost a loved one that was taken too early. The friend's mom finally succumbed to multiple illnesses, the last of which was lymphoma, after being sick for quite sometime, so I suppose it was not sudden, but it still doesn't ease the pain of losing your mother at 49.
The hardest part at the wake was looking at my friend's dad, watching him stoically greet guests as he stood near his wife's coffin. He embraced each person that greeted him like he was hugging a long lost friend. It really moved me and I was surprised by my emotions. I watched him the entire time I was there, thinking how difficult it must be to see your two daughters who look exactly like your wife and how hard it must be to try to stay strong from them and your son, who is about to be married. He would periodically glance at his wife's lifeless body laid out before family and friends and this truly broke my heart. The love that they must have shared was so obvious that it filled the room and was clearly shown in his eyes.
Then I thought about all that my friend's mother would be missing. Her eldest daughter's college graduation, her youngest daughter's high school graduation, her only son being married, and the countless other moments that will occur in their lives without their mother being at their side to support them, comfort them, embrace them.
My mind drifted as I tried not to think about my mom or dad passing away, but it was inevitable in this environment I suppose. I thanked God that my parents are relatively healthy, besides being fucking chimneys, and I prayed that they would be around for a long time to come.
I never know how to respond to hearing that someone's relative or friend died. I do genuinely feel sympathetic, but I have no idea how to express it. I don't know what's appropriate or what's inappropriate, so sometimes I awkwardly hug the person, pat them on the back, and just say the generic "I'm sorry for your loss, let me know if you need anything." Honestly, when my grandma died a few years ago, I hated when people told me, "Let me know if you need anything." What the fuck am I going to need that you can offer me? Some booze? Some money? How about my grandma back for another 15-20 years? It's so fucking generic, but we all say it, and I suppose a good percentage of us mean it. Still, I can't compare the experience of losing a grandparent to a mother, no matter how close I was with my grandma, it just isn't the same.
My friend held up very well during the time I was at the wake. Obviously the family knew it was coming for some time, but how can the death of your mother at only 49 years old not be shocking in some manner? She didn't cry that I saw, she smiled, she held a baby, she thanked her friends for coming, she graciously accepted cards and flowers. She went through the motions so well that I felt like it was going to be very hard for her later when there aren't motions to take or hundreds of people around, watching your every move, thinking that you're going to fall and being humbled by your strength.
I cry the hardest when I'm alone and I feel like she will, too. There's nothing I can say to make any of it better or less tragic, so all I can do is keep the family in my thoughts and prayers and hope that their memories of their mom and wife will keep them comforted for the rest of their lives.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
It happens
I'm wasted. Again. On a Tuesday night....with classes at 10am tomorrow. Fuck. My boss, the one who is the sole reason why I applied to be an RA is leaving....we just found out tonight at our staff meeting. Rocker isn't taking my calls apparently. Funny how he never answers when I call him, but he can always call me with me answering. SOmething is weird there. Maybe I should assume that he has a girlfriend....fuck it. I called my cousin who goes to school in Indianapolis and talked to one of his friends there who told me he wanted to fuck the shit out of me (which i would not oppose). I don't want to go to bed alone...why must I go to bed alone and unsatisfied? I ask for so little and maybe that's why I receive just as much as I ask for..
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Another One Bites the Dust
This past Friday, I got a call from one of my guy friends at school. I knew what it meant as soon as I saw his name pop up on my caller ID; he had proposed to his girlfriend and they are now engaged. This is the third time this past year that some of my closest friends have gotten engaged, including four out of the 8 or so of my closest friends at my entire school. To someone who is single, it seems kind of intimidating. I'm without a doubt not ready to do something like get engaged at this point in my life, but it makes me question how they are so sure they want to marry this person. Sometimes I wonder if their relationships will continue as well as they are going now when they get into the real world and face real problems like bills, where to live, working full-time, dealing with each other's families, and even just planning the wedding itself. It's pretty easy to maintain a relationship with someone when you go to the same school and have the same friends and get to do all the fun college things together without having many concerns in regards to the relationship. Obviously you're both loyal to each other because at a smaller school like mine, one would find out rather quickly if their significant other was cheating. Here, the couples spend pretty much 24/7 together except for differing class schedules. They eat together, sleep together, hang out with different friends together, sometimes even shower together.
Saying all that makes me feel somewhat claustrophobic, I mean fuck...take two seconds away from each other for Christ's sake. In relationships like these, can you really love someone like that without losing who you are? I consider myself to be pretty independent, as much as a 21 year old college student can be, but when I am in a relationship that is meaningful, I give a lot of myself to that person. However, I never feel like I lose myself when I'm with that other person and the thought of that kind of disgusts me. I'm a big fan of "me" time and I let that be known in a relationship. I can't fucking think if you're always around me and that makes me crabby, which would make me irrationally bitchy to you. It makes me feel itchy thinking about it, but maybe I'm just a little cold-hearted for that, "I can't stand being a second without you" bullshit. When I spend more than a day with someone I start to lose my mind, which is why I was never good at those weekend slumber parties that little girls have where you spend Friday night to Sunday morning at someone's house. It was never for me. I like my own space, my own bed, my own time to think about whatever fucking nonsense I want to think about, and my freedom to do whatever the fuck I want to do.
I guess I'm a big contradiction though because even as I write this, I'm a little pissed at Rocker. He's been kind of distant the past couple days, and it's not like he hasn't called or anything, but it's little things. I haven't gotten a goodnight text in a few days or a good morning text either, which he usually does both on a daily basis. It's not even that I necessarily miss him doing these things, it's just that when it has become such a routine, it makes me wonder why he has broken that routine. Hello, trust issues, welcome to the party. Oh, daddy cheating on mommy, come right in and join the psychoanalysis of such goofy thoughts. Ah, piss.
Saying all that makes me feel somewhat claustrophobic, I mean fuck...take two seconds away from each other for Christ's sake. In relationships like these, can you really love someone like that without losing who you are? I consider myself to be pretty independent, as much as a 21 year old college student can be, but when I am in a relationship that is meaningful, I give a lot of myself to that person. However, I never feel like I lose myself when I'm with that other person and the thought of that kind of disgusts me. I'm a big fan of "me" time and I let that be known in a relationship. I can't fucking think if you're always around me and that makes me crabby, which would make me irrationally bitchy to you. It makes me feel itchy thinking about it, but maybe I'm just a little cold-hearted for that, "I can't stand being a second without you" bullshit. When I spend more than a day with someone I start to lose my mind, which is why I was never good at those weekend slumber parties that little girls have where you spend Friday night to Sunday morning at someone's house. It was never for me. I like my own space, my own bed, my own time to think about whatever fucking nonsense I want to think about, and my freedom to do whatever the fuck I want to do.
I guess I'm a big contradiction though because even as I write this, I'm a little pissed at Rocker. He's been kind of distant the past couple days, and it's not like he hasn't called or anything, but it's little things. I haven't gotten a goodnight text in a few days or a good morning text either, which he usually does both on a daily basis. It's not even that I necessarily miss him doing these things, it's just that when it has become such a routine, it makes me wonder why he has broken that routine. Hello, trust issues, welcome to the party. Oh, daddy cheating on mommy, come right in and join the psychoanalysis of such goofy thoughts. Ah, piss.
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