writers never die

Last week I planned to write my favorite post of the whole year: what I did this year to make it significant. Then I got into a physical fight with my 20 year old sister (who has always been more important to me than I like to admit) and was threatened by her 34 year old gun toting “boyfriend” (quotations because the relationship is not real). All of a sudden, everything I claimed as important seemed small. Instead of thinking about all of the things I did in 2011 that, in fact, WERE amazing, I spent the week wondering how anyone in this entire world could possibly drive me to physical violence. Aren’t we supposed to stop hitting our siblings when we’re much younger? Don’t I, in particular, hate the idea of hitting anyone? Doesn’t the thought of being physically threatened send me into a fit of anxiety?

Yes, yes, and yes. Do I love Caitlin? Yes, I think so. I know that I always have, and I hope that I always will. But, do I respect her? No. I don’t respect anyone who chooses an unhealthy relationship over a person that shares their blood, their secrets, and their tears. I do not deserve to fear someone that claims to have my sister’s best interests at heart. Do you? Do you care that she spends her entire day in bed? Do you care that she drove every single true friend out of her life for you? Do you care that she has no ambition? Do you care that she is slowly losing her grasp on reality? Because I do. Maybe that translates as me trying to push my life on Caitlin, but that is not my intention. I don’t care what she does as long as she is happy. When I ask her about her goals, it is because I think she has them, not because I am trying to force her to create them. I have ALWAYS had her best interests at heart. I would never bring danger into her life, the way you have brought it into all of ours. I know what it means to love someone. Do you?

I finally feel better. I didn’t think that I would. I didn’t think I could forgive myself for hurting someone, and I didn’t think I could forgive someone else for hurting me. It turns out only the latter is true, and it extends far beyond any physical act. As always, words cut the deepest wounds.

With that out of the way, I would like to do what I originally planned and sum up 2011. I don’t know that it’s necessary as much as it is just important to me. I’m going with a list rather than an essay. You can thank me later.

1. I moved out of my dream home and into a studio apartment. It was the first time I ever lived completely alone. My first semester was miserable. I was consumed by loneliness. I regretted the move every day. All of my friends were still living the fun lives I left, and I was stuck in the academic grind. However, this semester, I experienced the opposite. I was still alone, but not lonely. I learned to love my apartment for the peace it offered. I remembered, finally, that I thrive when I’m alone. (Is this good? Probably not.) So, the move was a success.
2. Because I chose to move to the city that housed my university, I was able to fully commit to school. I finished the spring semester with a 3.8 GPA and the fall semester with a 4.0 GPA. To the girl who flunked out of school and let herself down, this was a HUGE deal.
3. I slept in six beautiful American cities: Austin, San Diego (this sleep was a big red mistake), Indio, Flagstaff, Kansas City, and Tulsa. I also learned to love my OWN beautiful cities above all of these: Norman and Oklahoma City.
4. I left the country for the first time. I navigated a Spanish speaking airport by myself. I saw the most gorgeous sunset of my life in Colonia, Uruguay. I found myself broke in beautiful Buenos Aires. I ate empanadas every day. I rode in a subway, a bus, and a terrifying taxi. I danced to drum circles. I prepared a park picnic. I had a 100 peso bill returned to me at least 5 times for being ripped, but continued to try to use it anyway. I drank the best mojito of my life in a Venezuelan bar playing French music. I purchased a piece of art. I bought hand crafted gifts for people that I love. I got to witness my vegetarian boyfriend devour a steak. I drank expensive wine for cheap. I had the most eye opening and amazing time.
5. While losing touch with my youngest sister, I grew closer to my other siblings. My older brother traded in prison for a home, and I have watched him become a productive member of society again. I am so happy to have him in my life again, and so proud of all that he has accomplished in the past six months.
6. Abbey, who has been my best friend for 12 years, became part of my life again. If I am most thankful for anything in 2011, it is this.
7. I broke a car 1000 different ways but learned to love driving it.
8. I made friends at school who had the same interests at me. I remembered that I am an interesting person and I do have things to offer to others.
9. I learned, or maybe just accepted, that love is volatile. Either fight for it, or let it go.
10. Finally, I felt the truest to myself that I ever have. I did the things I wanted to do, and refused to be pressured into being someone else for the sake of a good time. I studied, cooked, wrote, read, danced, laughed, and spoke my lovely mind.

What do I plan for 2012? Nothing. I’m just going to let it be. My biggest commitment is to me this year. Can you dig it?

(Based entirely on this week.)

• Try to find a way to eat pancakes every day.
• Panic about my bike being stolen before realizing I didn’t ride it to school.
• Overdress for work to make up for the disheveled mess I am during school.
• Spend an unnecessary amount of time trying to figure out how to take a nap while still getting everything done.
• Make really sound decisions about my life and then change my mind.
• Bite all my nails off.
• Take extra showers. (This is the weirdest.)
• Text message people in panic mode. The content of the messages may or may not have something do with the actual reason I am panicking.

I will add to this list tomorrow when things really get out of hand.

Hi.

It’s been a while. I’ve been scared of this screen. I had to confront the fact that I am no more or less than my angst. Let’s be honest- is there a such thing as nice angst? No, there isn’t. And I know I’m angsty. (Kind of a word.) I always have been. But I guess I’m not comfortable with the label. Rather, I guess I’m not comfortable with anyone else calling out my angst. Can’t I just do it? Please. It’s so much easier to mock ourselves. Let me have it. Phew. After a rowdy internal argument over this very little fact, I then had to consider the possibility of people I didn’t invite to read my angst (just kidding. I’ll drop it.) being able to read it. What is the big deal? Right? I mean, I have a public blog on the internet. Any number of weirdos (and intellectuals.. ha.) could be reading without my knowledge. But OI VEY! The possibility of my friends reading what I have to say about very little? Oh god, no. That just won’t do. I will be honest- I made a new blog last week. I just couldn’t fathom the idea that I might have to be responsible for my words. Also honest, I never posted in it. I just don’t think I’m read to give up two years worth of beautiful, thoughtful, frustrating, and truthful angst. So, I guess what I’m saying is that I’m going to try this whole blogging to the unknown thing. I suspect that most of this is in my head, as most of everything is, and that is how I like it.

I have kept many blogs over the past 10 years. Yikes. That is a little too true! My favorite place to blog was livejournal because, before you posted, you could include your current music. This was such a thrill to me because I had this idea in high school that I needed to be a music snob and love music that my friends hadn’t heard yet. (Of course, this didn’t stop me from secretly listening to “Konstantine” on repeat for a year.) I don’t think I was alone in my desire for snobbery. As far as I know, unless I was the only poser, we were all doing it. Any time I saw a song that my friends were currently listening to that I hadn’t heard of, I went into a panic about how to illegally obtain not only that song, but the entire album it came from so a week later I could post that I was listening to the same band, but a different song. I had to be coy about my new fandom. “Oh, I’ve just loooooved this band for so long. I never knew you liked them!” Ha. I’m being a little unfair. I, and my friends, listened to awesome music in high school. The funniest part was how possessive we got when someone else started to truly like our favorite band. My best friend was really bummed when I started listening to Ben Harper, someone she had liked for at least a year before I would give him a chance. I went on a rampage when a girl a year younger than me started quoting Ani Difranco in her AIM profile. “How dare she? She doesn’t even know anything besides 32 flavors.” I knew I had truly grown up when I was not upset but excited that my friends liked Bright Eyes. Aaah, funny truths.

That was unintentional. I’m going to walk a new road with this space, hopefully. I have to get past words that mask words that mask words and just say what I mean/want.

In addition to confronting my angst and my secret angsty space going public, I have also been attempting to get to the source of some of my other entirely odd and unwarranted issues. For example, I am trying really hard to figure out why it bothers me so much that my little sister doesn’t want to move out and go to college. The worst part about this is that I KNOW that it is not my place to be bothered. I know that I have no say in what she does with her life, but I constantly worry that she won’t do anything with it. I think it is a statement to how much I love and care about her, but to her, and everyone I’ve tried to discuss this with, I am just pushing my own agenda on her. Maybe I am. I’d like to think I am just trying to make room for the discussion of her future, as I sometimes worry no one else in her life is. She always gets angry with me though, and tells me that she doesn’t want to be me. It’s funny the way people let you know they aren’t listening to a word you say. Why would I ever want her to be me? Must I remind her how well I handled my first attempt at college? Work? Boyfriends? Actual friends? I get an F in life from 18-21. Overall, I just want her to want things. They don’t have to be the things I want for her. I just make suggestions in the hope that she will find in them something desirable.

Heavy. This is hard. I have two other things I planned to talk about, but I don’t think I can yet. At what point am I disclosing too much? This is truly something I struggle with every day. I constantly end sentences before they’ve started because I am nervous that the person I am talking to will find my feelings either insane or typical. Both options are unattractive to me, so I just keep things to myself. Or, I come here and talk in circles until I feel like I’ve exposed my feelings without anyone knowing what I’ve actually said. I want to get out of that comfort zone because, honestly, it’s not that comfortable. This is just a teaser.

lq

This is what happens when I try to blog:

If you need clarification, nothing happens. I stare at the screen and try to recall all of the hilarious and original thoughts (…) I had during the day. After about five minutes of staring at the screen, pondering a good title for blank text, and choosing the best song to listen to while writing nothing, I either give up or save what little I have written as a draft to be finished later. Later will happen sometime, I’m sure. I have a really good draft written on the eve of my 24th birthday. I guess that will never be relevant again..

(It’s happening right now but you wouldn’t know if I didn’t point it out. That’s one of my favorite things about writing. A paragraph can take seconds or days, but who knows the difference besides the writer?)

School has become a game of survival. Though, I’m not having any fun, so I guess it’s not a game. I only have class two days a week, but it is the days that I am not in class that I dread. Every page of a book that I get through is an accomplishment to me. Any amount of writing is the most daunting task. I think of papers I have to write in December and start to panic. What is this? It’s an odd mixture of laziness and over achievement. I realize that doesn’t many any sense. Just come spend a day with me to understand this lovely paradox. But really, don’t spend a day with me unless you want to take on some of my reading. The Bible is a nice read. Have you heard of it? You might like it.

Also, about school, can I just fast track through the next 7 months? I realized tonight that between work and school, I have one night of freedom. It was tonight, by the way. You want to know what I did? (Besides realizing I am a prisoner to the MAN.. or myself. I’ll get back to you.) I read The Phantom of the Opera in its entirety.. for school. All week I feel sad about the fun things my friends are doing- not because they are doing them but because I have to turn down the invitation. Today I secretly waited for something fun to arise so I could say, “YES!! I’ll be there! Can’t wait!” I probably wouldn’t have said it quite like that externally.. but you know. Anyway, I read a book all night instead and felt like a little weird girl for waiting to be asked to do something.

So, maybe the reason I don’t blog is because I am trying to prevent myself from making embarrassing confessions. See above for an example. And past entries..

I don’t really love the term “undergraduate.” Because of the state of mind I am in right now, I am choosing not to expand on this thought. However, think about it for a bit and you’ll probably catch my drift.

I can’t listen to sad music tonight. Except “Temazcal”.. that will do.

I have to end this before the madness starts.

lQ