Keep Faith

As I lay in bed the other night, not quite ready to fall asleep, I went through the meager photo gallery on my phone. I deleted a few pictures and reset my wallpaper with a picture of a picture of my aunt's cat dressed as James Bond I'd taken a couple weeks ago when we were visiting my grandmother over Christmas. The picture that had previously graced my phone background since the beginning of December was one featuring a quote my friend Erica had forwarded to me in light of a low point at the end of the semester.

Because of the quote wallpaper, I had had to delete the text banner I'd had on my phone. So, naturally, when the cat James Bond picture was put up, I went back into my settings to reset the banner. What I've always wanted to have--but never have had the space for because the banner is limited to a certain number of characters--is "Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Goodnight," the closing to Potterwatch in the Harry Potter books (which was thus adapted by the amazing PotterCast as their closing). Shortening it to just "Keep safe. Keep faith" was still too long. I tried fitting the simplified phrase in again in the hope that it would somehow fit, but to no avail. So, as I'd had to do before, I typed in "Keep faith" and hit save.

The last year and a half has provided its share of both high points and low points. For the most part, I feel in close to the same place as I did in my last post; things seem much more complicated while I feel simultaneously better equipped to understand what makes up my anxiety and depression. In August I started grad school, which has improved things to some extent. My experiences thus far have provided an enormous but not unexpected amount of challenges, but overall I feel happy. Fall semester was rough, but I feel stronger for it.

And yet new anxieties have set in alongside those that were there last year. While I find myself more hopeful, I'm navigating new and different concerns, and it has continued to take its toll in the form of anti-peptalks and nights I cry myself to sleep. I haven't been writing as I've wanted to, as evidenced by the fact that my novel is still comprised of character notes and freewriting in addition to the lack of posts on this blog over the last year. It's been hard to overcome the negative head spaces. That's not to say that I haven't been writing, because I've done some solid writing, especially since school started. I'm thankful for it. But despite this, I know I have a long way to go, both with writing and everything else in life, because the funk has seemed to slip into everything else, too.

Last week was New Years. I spent it with the old roomies. It was a fantastic holiday following a much better Christmas than last year, and it was good to just be and catch up with my friends, most of whom I hadn't seen in months. I talked to them about what had been going on, about school, the quarter-life crisis, my fears, worries, everything. One of the girls pointed out, "You have to stop looking at it negatively; it's not that you have a long way to go. It's in how far you've come already."

Truth be told, I haven't had much faith in myself or in my own abilities lately. I didn't really realize it until New Years, when I was spending quality time with my friends and making up resolutions for 2014. The combination of anxiety and depression has manifested itself into my insecurities and made things so much harder, and I've let all the negative thoughts carry me off into the void. What I've realized in the last week, though, is that it's that faith that needs to be restored. Things don't have to be perfect. Things will work out. Little by little, I am gaining confidence, and I can't let the insecurities of today that have built up with those of years past break down the strength I have.

I chose the "Keep Faith" banner because I liked the simplicity of it. It can mean many things beyond the context of the Potterwatch message. It is a daily reminder that I need faith in every way, keeping it close. It is the way I will navigate the dark days, and the way that I need to allow myself the benefit of the doubt. It is how I will love myself fully and unconditionally. It is protection. It is hope.

New Year

I haven't posted anything in awhile. Mostly it's due to a very busy few months, with starting a new job and trying to pull graduate school application materials together in time for their deadlines. I haven't even finished reading anything since reading The Giver back in October.

But it's also due to a lot of other stuff.

The only thing worse than the quarter-life crisis is depression on top of the quarter-life crisis--and hell, it might even be the same thing. My grandfather passed away the day I started my current job, and since then, I've been in a bit of a funk. Much of November was spent in grief and the stress from trying to get the hang of everything at work. By the beginning of December, I was finally getting things for grad school applications in order when a mild-health issue arose, which led to one of the longest weeks of my life.

On Christmas Eve and Christmas day, I was incredibly weepy. I thought a lot about holidays passed, feeling horrible that I wasn't with my grandmother and my aunt for the holiday and trying to be thankful that I was working full-time, a grand change from the unemployment of two months before.

Then came crunch time for applications and various apartment issues, which lead into the part of depression that included all the wrong kinds of self-peptalks:

How can you think you'd actually thrive in graduate school? Let's be real. You did, what, one day of Nanowrimo, and look how you've screwed yourself over. You're always on Tumblr or Facebook, wasting time. You will quit. You'll go into debt. You're a fool for thinking this is where you're meant to be. All you'll ever be is right where you are now: a fucking failure working a job paying minimum wage. You want to get out? Get real. You're too afraid to go anywhere. You're wasting your time.

And look at everyone else. They're settling down, with good jobs and families ever growing. When was the last time anyone looked at you? Everyone is always telling you to be confident, and you've failed at that just like everything else. You can't even properly change yourself. The one boyfriend you've had didn't even kiss you in the year and a half you were together. You want to know why that is? Because you're disgusting and you act weird. He told you you were too perfect. The ones you fancy will always be looking the other direction. You're a fake. Give it up, because you'll always be stuck. Alone. Remember: single forever. That was your superlative in the yearbook. You were so effing naive. 

Needless to say, I've been feeling incredibly inadequate as of late; too many complicated emotions with too much stress from too many directions. It's gotten to a point where I can't even remember how I was so wide-eyed and eager back after graduation. I feel lost.

I spent a couple days with Brandi, Leah, and Cassie last week when we went to see Lady Gaga again, and for four days I felt really positive about everything. I'd just finished turning in the applications, I was out of the Little Apple for a couple days, and the thrill of seeing Gaga live is always such a beautiful boost in happiness and positivity. Upon my return, however, the feelings came rushing back. I worried that I bored the other girls, that I said stupid things that made them hate me, that I annoyed them. On top of it, I realized a few weeks ago that the last time I'd seen my grandmother and my aunt was back at my grandfather's funeral.

At the moment, it doesn't feel as heavy as before, which I hope is a good sign. I even did a little writing this week--not a lot, but it's a start. I stopped by the library earlier today to pick out a couple books to read, and I'm trying to look forward toward the Sigma Tau Delta convention. I am a writer, and I'm trying desperately to make myself believe it again, because I'm worried that I've forgotten it.

But my birthday is on Monday, and I fear it's going to destroy me like it did last year (aside from the drag show we went to, which was a wonderful pick-me-up). Valentine's Day is coming up, too, and my attitude toward the holiday has changed dramatically in the last few years; I cried myself to sleep in the last two years because everything was too much. I'm trying not to let things overwhelm me.

Things will eventually look up. I know they will. But right now, at this moment, I just feel so unsure. It's like I don't know what I want anymore, though I know I do.

It comes down to trusting in the right words, but all I can find are the wrong ones.

Quarter Life or Thereabouts

Shortly after I started dating him, I spent an entire Saturday with my first boyfriend at his house. It was a good day; he made me spaghetti, my favorite meal, minus the mushrooms because I didn't like them. That was one of the first days I ever shot off fireworks other than sparklers, and we just talked, and it felt nice to be able to do so. At that point, we had only been dating for about a month and a half, and because he lived so far away, things were still pretty new. He lived in a pretty small town, and so the two of us and his little sister drove over to the next town to get fireworks. We picked out the firework pack we wanted, paid for it, and we made our way to the nearest gas station to grab something to eat.

He finally mustered up the courage to take my hand as we were walking around. He dropped it, however, as soon as his sister screeched, "Ew, you guys are holding hands?!" and he didn't try holding my hand again for the rest of the day.

I've been watching a lot of The Office in the last three weeks. One of the last episodes I finished was the one where Phyllis and Bob Vance get married. It was a great episode. I was happy for Phyllis. Michael drove me nuts, as per usual. I was appalled at his actions.* I would be absolutely mortified if anyone acted that way at my wedding.

Things have seemingly become more domestic over the last year. My friends' Facebook posts have fallen into this category, ranging from wedding plans to baby announcements and the like. Even watching shows like The Office and Ugly Betty over the last few weeks has been eerily reflective of the job search as I've waited to hear back from potential employers. These things aren't bad. I'm thankful for them--I'm just not yet used to how grown-up everything seems all of a sudden.

I think about that spaghetti Saturday every once and awhile. The thing that taints it is, of course, the ex's reaction when his sister saw us holding hands. At the time, I was embarrassed, too. I thought that maybe things were always like that at the beginning of a relationship. We'd only been dating for just over a month, after all. I felt ashamed for wanting to hold his hand. And it was such a beautiful day, too.

What I realize now, many years later, is that it was stupid for him to react that way. I was hurt, though I didn't want to admit it at the time. The memory leaves a bad taste in my mouth; there was so much I didn't realize at the time that was wrong with the situation and, ultimately, the relationship. It was good that it ended, because the weirdness didn't end there.

One of my best friends, Amanda, is getting married next year, as is my good friend Nicole. I'm excited to be there to be a part of both of their special days.

I don't know if I'll ever have the opportunity to get married, and to be honest, I've never thought much about it. I mean, I have, but not to the same degree you'd expect of a young woman in her twenties. There are few things I'm absolutely sure of, regarding little details of what right now seems like something distant. When I told Amanda that I wanted this song** as part of my ceremony, her face lit up and I knew her excitement was due to the fact I haven't really talked about stuff like this very often; I'm usually pretty quiet/negative about it. But, I knew that if I ever get married, that was the very song I'd want to play. It says everything I could never be able to express.

I have a lot of feelings about it all, and I don't talk about it much. I know that I don't want a Michael Scott there to ruin anything about it, because I know exactly how I'd feel about my wedding day. It's too important, and too precious.



*As annoying as he can be, however, he's such a brilliant character. I can't help but simultaneously love and hate him.

**Here's the original.

Top of the World Without Flashlights

On the day of graduation back in May, after a rousing and hilarious game of Apples to Apples, my roommates and I and the remainder of our party guests decided to go to Top of the World* so that Abbey, Emma, and I could see it before we were "officially done" with undergraduate. So, we piled into two cars and followed Amanda up the hill to the outlook point.

Top of the World, if I'm explaining correctly, is a scenic outlook at the top of the tallest point in Manhattan. The hill can easily be identified by 'MANHATTAN' in very large letters that has been put into the side of the hill. Visitors can sit and observe the view from the letters, or take various trails that lead down the hill. The night of graduation was the first time I'd ever been there, so I was especially excited though I knew that it was probably the last time I'd get to spend time with Abbey before she left for Chicago.

Once we'd parked and realized that we'd forgotten flashlights--it was after dark--Amanda led us to the Manhattan sign, were there were two couples enjoying the view,** and we took a moment to enjoy the city at night, from Wal-Mart over to the other side of Tuttle Creek Boulevard.

"There's another place that I should show you, c'mon," Amanda said, leading us back up the path and into brush.

My phone was my only light source, and as soon as she headed what seemed in the dark as off the path, I got really nervous. Regardless, I followed Heidi and everyone else down another short path and up onto a wide expanse of concrete surrounded by trees. Here, we couldn't really see a good view of Manhattan because of all the trees, but we could see the stars. Granted, we couldn't see a lot because of the lights from the city, but there were a few that shone brightly enough for us to catch a glimpse of them.

There was a rustling in the brush bordering our viewpoint. Then there were noises. My scaredy-cat side thought we were minutes away from being attacked.

"Are you okay?" I asked Heidi, who was nearby.

"Yeah."

The others became louder. Emma and Amanda scoffed at the sounds, and Abbey was jumping around. Alisha was talking about Darren Criss. I stepped closer to Heidi.

"Seriously?!" I finally called out. It wasn't funny anymore. "This is immature. We are in college. GOD."

Amanda came over to me and placed her hands on my shoulders. "Heather, it's just those jerks we interrupted earlier. We are not going to be attacked. They got mad that we interrupted their make out session, and they're trying to get back at us."

"I KNOW," I shrieked. "But I have an overactive imagination that's going crazy right now. This is why I can't handle horror movies."

We made our way back to the outlook point by the parking lot, giggling, talking, and making jokes while trying to soak up every last delicious moment of what had been an amazing, wonderful day. It had been, truly, the best day, and as curfew came at 11pm, I was devastated that it was over. We said goodbyes to Abbey, exchanged hugs with one another and went our separate ways.

This summer, as far as I can remember, was probably the one that went by the fastest. I read a lot, worked, fine tuned my resume, applied for a few jobs. Packed. Moved into a wonderful little apartment that puts the Tiny Blue Room to shame a hundred times over. Classes have been in session for about two weeks, and it's been so incredibly strange not to be going on to campus. As I wait to hear from the jobs I applied for, I am trying to keep my head in the mindset of what I want to accomplish. Graduation day was so long ago, but it feels like it just happened. I'm thankful for the break, but I know I'll be ready to get back into the groove once graduate school gets here.

How strange time is.


*To this day, I'm not sure if it's officially called Top of the World or Manhattan Hill. For the sake of continuity in this post, I'm going to refer to it as Top of the World.

**They were making out. We were being loud. It was awkward.

Ground Control to Major Tom

So this post really isn't about David Bowie. But as crazy as things have been in the last week, as they are likely to be until move-out day on Friday, the countdown seems especially appropriate (even if it really isn't in the grand scheme of things).

As I write this post, I am sitting in a laundromat, glancing up at the dryers every thirty seconds like the crazy person I have surely become. Just outside the front door of the facility is a fancy silver sports car with a Batman plate on the front. I can't help but think of seeing the new movie just two days ago, and, by extension, the tragedy in Colorado that took place the same day. A young couple sits two tables down from me, the boy reading Catching Fire while his girlfriend fiddles with her phone beside him. Others come in and out, carrying a helluvah lot less laundry than I did nearly an hour ago.

My basement-dwelling roomies discovered what they think is a pretty mild case of bed bugs this morning, and though I personally do not live in the basement and use a mattress cover, I wanted needed to take precautionary measures.

It's not really fun to have to deal with stuff like this. And though Emma told me that, if it absolutely had to happen, she's glad it happened so close to us getting out of that blasted house, I was still nervous and frustrated that it had to happen at all. I just don't handle stress well. I couldn't think straight when my mom called earlier; I felt especially bad about it because I haven't had the chance to talk to her in a week.

And so now I've found myself at the laundromat with twenty dollars-worth of quarters in my pocket (long story short: I should have gotten change from the twenty, first). The HG fan and his girlfriend have since left, interestingly enough, in the sportscar/Batmobile. All of my clothes are now in dryers. I feel gross from having worked and then battled the heat to bring my stuff across town. In my haste, I didn't quite understand that 25 cents equals 9 minutes of dryer time, and thus more quarters meant more time. Along with saving time and money, I could have also saved dryer space.

And then there's everything else. Moving, of course. The job search I've put on hold, briefly, so I can move without completely losing my head. And then there is the continued news from Colorado. What a terrible thing to have happened. It breaks my heart to know that things like this actually do happen. People actually set out to hurt others. Why, I don't know. But I'm praying for the victims and their families.

Also, I haven't eaten dinner yet. This is Major Tom.

Bullet Points

• The Glee season finale was good for the first thirty-five minutes. It was excellent, in fact, until that point. And while I appreciated the twist with Rachel, I was frustrated with what was left out of the episode before we saw Rachel through the end. It had to be a writing or editing issue. Meh. I might talk about this more in another post, but this is not the time and place for that. Soon, though. 
• As I write this post, I am alternating between typing and making pancakes. Pour, type, flip, type, move to plate, pour, eat newly made pancake, type, etc. 
• In the last four days, I have had two school nightmares and one pregnancy dream. The school nightmares have been pretty standard, though I don't know how much longer they're going to follow me around, since I've graduated...
• Life as a graduate is nice, but also really odd. More on this later. 
• I've been slowly going through my belongings, really trying to pare everything down and get rid of the clutter. I've sold back some movies and books, and have gone through my clothes at least twice to pull out some stuff to take over to the Salvation Army, but I still feel like I have so much stuff. It's insane. 
• I feel like I've been incredibly lazy in the last week and a half. I've already have had at least two silent freak-outs and have tried writing things down in a list or two, but the problem is that I have two separate lists when I really should have one. I really need to keep tabs on what needs to be done. 
• While I was waiting for my car in the shop, I spent the better part of yesterday reading*, something I hadn't done in a long time. I finished a book called Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman and another called Someone Like You by Sarah Dessen. I hope to do a thoughtbox for both soon (as well as one for Mockingjay, which is long overdue). I like this part of the real world. I mean, realistically, I know that I won't always have a free day to do things like that, but it's nice to have even the smallest bit of time to read. Now, if only I can just get myself into a schedule...
• The more flexible schedule is going to take some getting used to. 

*I'm a slow reader, so any reading time is precious to me. 

The Worst Block of All

Drawing and I have always had a strange relationship. It's rare for me to be completely satisfied with a drawing, and I get discouraged easily. If something isn't looking right, or if I'm not connecting to the process, or even when I feel like all I'm doing is slapping media on to the paper, I shut down. And when that happens, I get really discouraged.

It started the week leading up to my birthday. I knew I wasn't making enough work (something that tends to come up a lot in talking with my drawing professor), but I was still waiting to hear word on a studio space. Thus, I hadn't had a lot of time (or, frankly, motivation) to make as much work as she had wanted me to. The weekend of my birthday, I made five drawings in addition to the two I'd started earlier that week, and I got so frustrated with myself and the unresolved status of a studio space and my upcoming show to be in the mood for any sort of discussion about my work. But, of course, on Valentine's Day, my professor wanted the class to have a critique of the eight drawings I'd done. I wanted to cry. I crossed my arms a lot and didn't pay much attention to what was being said, responding with a resounding "I honestly don't know" to every question asked of me. That same day I found out that because there wasn't a particular space for me to use, I'd be able to use the watercolor studio, a fairly public space for art students, as a studio space. That made me want to cry more, though I understood that the circumstances were beyond anyone's control. Everything combined together made me feel the worst I've ever felt as an art major. What was the point of drawing if all I could contribute was poorly-executed mixed media drawings that failed to connect with my artist statement? Where could I go?

I didn't draw anything for a week. This past week, however, was a little better, though the procrastination has seemed to worsen. I started two drawings that I have yet to finish but haven't had the energy or desire to do so. I started using the watercolor studio, but froze up when other students came in to work on their watercolor assignments or other homework as they waited for their next studio or art history class. I get nervous with other people in the room when I'm drawing. I hate the feeling of someone "looking over my shoulder" and my arm stiffens up and I'm uber conscious of my mark-making. I feel like I can't focus nor let everything go and just draw. It's horrible.

One guy in particular came in on Tuesday, and literally walked up to where I'd taped up the drawing across two drafting tables and was waiting for the gesso I'd applied to dry. He started asking me questions: "What are you using on this?" "Why did you choose to use the gesso with the charcoal?" "How do you like working this big?" And as nice as this guy was, I couldn't help getting secretly annoyed that he was asking me so many questions I wasn't prepared to answer. As far as my bad drawing side was concerned, he was a gawker and I would have given my drawing hand to be anywhere other than in the watercolor room at that very moment.

I feel like I've been drifting in every direction in the last few weeks. Graduation, unresolved studio space issues, the BFA show, preparations for the Sigma Tau Delta Convention, my unwanted but unrelenting senioritis, and the upcoming drawing portfolio all BFA seniors are required to turn in upon completing their BFA show...I've been so distraught I even entertained the idea that I was regretting becoming a drawing major. The other day I tweeted* about how annoyed with myself I'd been because I'd left some of my drawing materials at home, and ultimately that I felt my BFA show (which goes up on Easter Sunday) will suck. Almost immediately after I tweeted this, my friend Hunter, a painting major and fellow graduating senior, responded with:

STOP IT Stop complaining, stop doubting, and#GetYourShitDone If I, THE KING OF PESSIMISM, am telling you to stop, do it #believe

It was quite a wake-up call, and I told him so later that day when I saw him.

I don't think I'll ever be able to shake my low drawing self-esteem. I've toted it along with me against my will for a long time, managing to overcome it once and awhile (those are the good drawing days). I just want to be making drawings that I'm satisfied with, and thus far, it hasn't worked out that way. And frankly, of all the times for me to experience such a terrible bout of artist's block, this is the worst possible time for it. I cannot afford to be lost this close to the culminating event of my pursuit of a BFA degree.

Last spring, Heidi sent me the link to this song, hoping that it would help me find the understanding I needed.

Have I mentioned how incredible my sister is?


*I hate emotional tweeting, but I realized I've been doing it unconsciously as of late. Alas.

Birthday

On my ninth birthday, I was sick*. I insisted on going to school, though, because I had a birthday party after school that day, and I didn't want to cancel it. (Also, I've always hated missing school.) There was also a magic show at school that day, and I got called up to help perform a magic trick that involved pulling out a classmate's underwear. When the magician asked what my name was, I more or less croaked it because I was slowly losing my voice.

Yesterday was my 24th birthday. My parents came into town on Friday night and took me out to dinner. They brought me waffles, spaghetti, and cheesecake. I spent the majority of yesterday running errands or drawing (more of the former, however--I headed out to do errands late morning). My original plan for the weekend was to go home to spend some time with my mom and dad, but since I hadn't had the chance to get some serious drawing done, I needed the weekend to work. I was pretty bummed yesterday, to be honest. I had to remind myself that as far as birthdays go, it wasn't bad at all. I just didn't want to be stressed, and I was.

But it was a good day. I had the chance to see my parents the night before (they gave me a Coca-Cola cookbook, which I'm pretty sure is one of the greatest things in the universe, along with a few other things including a book about the Harry Potter movies and the soundtrack to the broadway cast soundtrack to How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying). I bought myself the Monster Ball DVD and put it on when I was drawing. I browsed the Dusty Bookshelf and bought three books with some of the birthday money I got from my parents. My sister called me to sing me 'happy birthday'.

And I spent the evening of my 24th birthday with friends at the 6th Annual K-State Drag Show. I didn't have to think about schoolwork or anything related to it. I just lost myself in the music and each amazing performance. I knew the moment when a mother sitting near the front brought her one year old up to the edge of the stage, and the toddler held out a dollar bill to the performer, that this is what would become part of making this birthday unique. The birthday I drew and went to my first drag show.

Happy February.

The cake my roommate Alisha made for me for my birthday. She had me blow out the candles on Friday afternoon before my parents came. They were arranged in the shape of a lightning bolt. 'Twas awesome.

*I think it was my ninth birthday. I was in second grade.

Points of Interest for 22 November, 2011

So. Have you seen the new made-of-awesome Hunger Games trailer? I have soooooo much love for it. Effie! The Capitol! Peeta! Gale! Katniss volunteering! Cinna! Caesar Flickerman! Rue! My heart! And March seems like such a long ways away....

The Leaky Cauldron has posted links to part one and part two of a documentary called "When Harry Left Hogwarts" (from one of the special Blu-rays of DHp2...I think). It's beautiful, and I have few words.

Finally, I highly recommend the Loudspeaker podcast, which is also made of awesome. (It's amazing. It really is.)

Have I mentioned how much I love having a break from things for a bit? I am currently watching Chamber of Secrets (Harry and Ron are just about to change back into themselves after taking Polyjuice potion), taking a quick breather from planning a drawing strategy for my final drawing project. This morning, Mom and I made a quick trip to Lincoln to do a little Christmas shopping, and I found a little something for Heidi and my goddaughter Emilyn. I also now own my very first pair of Birkenstocks. I feel like I've achieved some sort of right-of-passage wearing them. Is that weird?

When I have time to really think through things...I'm just really thankful for this week off. I really needed it.

Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds

My earliest memory of my sister, Heidi, involves a little orange jumpsuit with a matching bib decorated with a smiling, glowing pumpkin. She was just days old, and Mom had dressed her up as a pumpkin baby. This first memory is of Mom putting her into the car seat after church; perhaps Halloween was on a Sunday that year? I was too young. I cannot remember much beyond that; I was two and a half when she was born, and so I feel very lucky to remember that kind of a detail alone.

Heidi is a Halloween baby. She wasn't born on Halloween, though: just a few days before. Last weekend, when she and I were watching Hocus Pocus, one of her favorite movies, we talked about how this made sense with her obsession with horror movies. She's been trying to get me to watch every scary movie under the sun in the last few months especially.

But I digress.

Today is Heidi's 21st birthday. I've been very emotional the last few days thinking about it. It's not a bad thing; I've just been thinking a lot about everything that we've been through together. She's my best friend. We didn't get along too well as kids--well, we did, but we fought a lot, as siblings are prone to do--but then something clicked and we slowly became best friends. She is the most wonderful, kindhearted people I know, and I'm so proud to call her my sister.

One of Heidi's favorite songs when she was little was "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." There is a line within the song that goes: "Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile/The girl with kaleidoscope eyes." She latched onto this idea of a 'turnstile' despite her misunderstanding of what it actually was: she named the final turn before the highway that leads directly into our hometown on our way back from visiting family in Nebraska the 'turnstile'. I remember her getting it confused, however. She called it "the turndial."


She and Dad would mention on it almost every time. "It's the turndial! It's the turndial!" she would cry, if Dad hadn't brought it up first. 


I think she is Lucy. It may be odd to say so, it may be cliche, but I don't care, because I feel she really is, in so many ways. It was like the song is written for her, because it captures her essence so purely. Her creativity, her capacity to love, her steadfastness, and every beautiful fiber of her being. Looking on it now, I believe that whole-heartedly. The girl with kaleidoscope eyes, indeed. 


And so, Heidi, you have reached another turndial. Happy, happy 21st birthday, Hootie! I love you. <3

Home Again

My weekends at home are much too short, and I have noticed each visit seems to get shorter and shorter.

Anyway.

Fall is my favorite season. There is a small maple tree in the yard, and one of the best things about fall is watching its leaves turn from green to yellow and orange to a rich red-orange. I missed the turning this year; most of the leaves have fallen from the branches, and the red-orange on most of the remaining leaves has faded to a gorgeous burnt orange color.

I missed homecoming for the first time in years this year, and I can't decide whether I'm upset or not. At the moment, it's an ache that I can't really put my finger on. I love homecoming; it was and will forever be part of my favorite memories of growing up in my hometown.

Heidi's birthday is this coming week, so my family and I have been having a sort of mini-celebration for her. She's been home since last Monday for her fall break. After the having survived this horrible week, I wish I'd been able to have my fall break at the same time.

As is the tradition for being home, we've watched a Harry Potter movie (two this time around, both Prisoner of Azkaban and Order of the Phoenix on Heidi's request as she is the Birthday Girl). Heidi and I went to see the Footloose remake last night at the Astro 3, and despite the fact that there was a country remake of the title song during the last scene of the movie, we were both pleased and genuinely entertained. It was very good, and I'd definitely see it again.

After the movie, Heidi and I went cruising to talk and listen to music. Conversation is a beautiful thing, and those I have with Heidi are some of my most treasured.

I'm not looking forward to having to return to the Little Apple tomorrow; not that I hate it, because I don't. I just need more time here. I haven't been home much since the beginning of the year. In the last 24 hours alone, I've felt more calm, laughed more genuinely, and had more of a focus on life than I've had in ages. Thanksgiving break cannot come soon enough.

A Two-Parter Ramble

I'm going to borrow a segue technique from John and Hank Green, the Vlogbrothers, who happen to be my favorite YouTube people (and the only ones I regularly watch). So, without further ado, this post comes in two parts.

Part One: Being Home


Last weekend was the first weekend since June that I was able to spend more than just 24 hours with my family. Heidi and I coordinated our visit so we'd have a weekend where all four of us (Heidi, Mom, Dad, and I) were in the same house. It was far too short of a weekend.

I'll be honest: I did not get a lot of homework done when I was home. For some reason, my motivation shuts off whenever I'm there, as if every visit is a vacation for me. The only thing I actually accomplished was watching online lectures for Art History, which I made my sister watch with me. She spent the entirety of them playing with Naomi, one of our cats, and playing on the Facebook Sims.

Regardless, the weekend was wonderful. Heidi and I watched a TON of movies:

• Wild Target, with Bill Nighy, Emily Blunt, and Rupert Grint. This movie is HILARIOUS. There's just something magical about British comedy that American comedy has a hard time living up to for me. Perhaps that's too cruel for me to say, but I really believe that. Now I just need to hunt down a copy for myself....
• Take Me Home Tonight with Topher Grace, Anna Faris, and Teresa Palmer. The movie was pretty funny, and I liked the touches of '80s culture included. Two things, though: first, I'm not a big fan of Dan Fogler (see above for a watered-down version of my thoughts on American comedy). Second, while I really appreciate what the movie's simple plot was trying to accomplish, I felt that Adventureland, which focuses on a similar kind of post-college state of wandering, was much more successful--and thorough in the journey of the protagonist--in conveying it. The holes in characters and the plot irritated me to no end. Overall, though, it was fun. I thought Topher Grace and Anna Faris topped themselves. 
• Jane Eyre, with Mia Wasikowska and Michael Fassbender. LOVE. I would cross oceans for this movie. No joke. 
• Crazy, Stupid, Love., with Steve Carrell and Julianne Moore. There were plenty of romantic comedy cliches, cheesy writing, and an almost completely predictable outcome for the characters. It was, however, very funny, and surprising at times. I loved Robbie, the son ("I love you. Please."); Jessica, the babysitter (her characterization/subplot was amazing); Hannah and Jacob's relationship (so funny and so tender, and it helps that I love both Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling). Little surprises all around. Plus, Josh Groban makes an appearance. 

The four of us took a mini-daytrip to Beatrice, where we scoured the $5 bin at Wal-Mart and returned with a large stack of bargain CDs between us. I met up with Maggie on Sunday for dinner to catch up with her and Emi, who's eyes are still as big and happy as they were when I saw her last at the end of May. She is adorable and I feel incredibly proud to be her godmother. Meanwhile, I joked around and talked music with Dad, spent time with Mom, filling her in on classes and such. Heidi and I cruised twice around town, blaring music from our iPods and pouring out our hearts about the things in our lives that were simultaneously important and heartbreaking in some form or another. There's something incredibly therapeutic about sharing this with my sister. I remember when Dad and his brother Rod would go cruising when we were little; there was a reason we were never allowed to join them--that was their time to share. Nothing but music, conversation, and honest heart-pouring. Those moments are special to me, more than I can put into words.

Part Two: Two Concerns and Many Feelings


First, I grow more and more wary of the future each day. I have no idea where I'll be at this time next year (and I feel the time swiftly slipping away from me). I do want to go to graduate school, but call it laziness or being too busy, I haven't looked into anything yet. There are so many feelings that I can't yet articulate, and I know I just have to push them and the worry aside and get the ball rolling so I don't waste any time. I know it will work out in the end. I mean, I do have time, and there are a few other things I've put on my educational bucket list (more travel, a writing fellowship, etc.) that are also on the timeline. I just need to sit down, make lists, prepare applications, take the GRE, and write.


Second, I noticed something when I was at dinner with Maggie on Sunday, and it's been hanging over my head since then, amplified from what it was before. I don't remember the exact train of our conversation or what prompted me to say it, but at one point, I made an off-hand comment that was along the lines of, "Well, if and when I ever get married and have kids..." Maggie, who was in the process of trying to keep Emi occupied (she was being fussy), laughed a little and looked up at me.

"You never know; if [so-and-so] got married, anyone can." Or something like that.

I feel like sometimes I let my cynicism about marriage get out of hand. No matter how hard I try to remain neutral concerning me and marriage, I feel like I always sound so bitter about it, as if I bring it up just so I can beat it to death over and over again, which is not my intention at all. It's not that I don't believe in it--because I really, really do--but part of me honestly feels like I won't ever get married, that God does not mean me to be.

Amanda gets really mad at me when I start talking like this. "God meant for you to be a mother," she says, speaking with a firm tone and looking me directly in the eye. "You have to have confidence in yourself. He has someone for you." My argument (which I feel is just as sound) is that maybe God does not have this planned for me, that I'm meant for something different. So, shouldn't I have trust that He knows what's best for me? Everything happens for a reason.

Thing is, I haven't dated in over four years. Most people my age are at a point where they are settling down. Facebook seems to magnify a pressure that doesn't really exist that I am desperately behind the times. I'm not socially comfortable enough to be able to use whatever "flirting protocol" is required to date, and of the two guys I had some sort of more-than-friends-type feelings for, one flat-out told me he'd never date me because I reminded him too much of his ex, and the other was only at K-State for a semester and I never understood what was going on with my relationship with him, anyway. When I go out to the bars with friends, I'm the one who stands just off to the side watching as my friends get hit on and the guys in question giving me that "Who are you?" look in the few times they break eye-contact with the object of their affection.

The last time I talked with Nate about dating, he suggested online dating sites. I shot down that idea almost immediately.

My ex-boyfriend (the only one I've had) told me four years ago that I was "too perfect." I'm still not sure what that had to do with our relationship and why we ended up in the mess we did.

My heart is much too invested in this complicated thing I've found myself in. And I have to understand that in no way am I supposed to find someone at this very moment; I have all the time in the world, if that is indeed what I'm meant to have in my life. Brandi, bless her heart, encourages me to embrace my single status (as, we joke, Jason Derulo does in the song). And I try. As I try to gain and maintain the confidence Amanda has urged me to find. Sometimes, though, the feelings get too heavy. I just wish things made more sense, sometimes. I can't spend the rest of my life dwelling on these things, you know?

So when my bitterness seemed to creep into my conversation with Maggie on Sunday, I felt awful that I ruined the mood of the conversation. I did not want her to think I was rude, or against anything related to it. It was just me, feeling too much, getting caught up in them and letting some slip away, becoming entangled in it.