twenty-ten

Not resolutions. Those get broken by the time the roses on the floats from the Rose Parade die. I'm taking about bulletpoints on a list. Nothing intimidating, nothing impending. Just a list of suggestions. Say I go through this year and tick a few things off of this list, alright. If I don't, I'm not going to be sitting on the bathroom floor in front of the scale in February crying because I gained a pound and ate a

carb. I'll probably be right back here this time next year with a bunch of the same things I still would like to do, trying to think of another creative way to present them to the world of Facebook to try and motivate myself. Anyways..  

- Complete a triathlon

I figure that since I swam for 12 years, the most intimidating part is taken care of.  

-Watch the sun rise over the Appalachians  

Ok, now I'm cheating and picking things I know I'll be doing. Spring Break 2010

-Skydive  

This will be on my list of things to do with my life up until the second I launch myself out of a plane. Or timidly get pushed off the edge.

-Bike the entire DesPlaines River Trail & Bike the Drive

The trail begins at the Illinois-Wisconsin Border in Wadsworth and ends in Chicago South of the Loop. It's about 50 miles long. Bike the Drive is a charity event that takes place in the summertime when you bike the drive, obviously. Lake Shore Drive is closed down completely from like, 6am until 9 and biker

s of all ages ride. Obviously, I don't want to do this alone.

-Get baptized

I'm not exactly sure how I've gone this far in life without being baptized, especially with being part of such a Greek family, but all the same, it's something I would like to get done.

all roads point right back to home.

I'm not sure when it all started, but somewhere in between making a cheesecake and catching up on the DV-R, I started to feel like steam was shooting out of my ears and felt really angry for absolutely no reason. Maybe it started when I walked out of high school for the last time and began meeting other people than the ones I talked to when I thought it was alright to eat play-dough and I pretended I was one of the Spice Girls at recess. Yeah, that was probably it.

I don't think I'll ever understand the concept of counting down the days till I come home, unless it's to see my parents or to feel the comfort of a "home." Home is hard to come by in an environment of bottle collections, tagged photos, lecture halls, elevator noise, pop tabs in milk jugs, creaky doors and shared bathrooms. To me, home is walking in the front door and seeing that it really is me that makes the mess in our house. My parents have put bets on how long it would take for me to take over all of the free space. It's hard not to, because after moving on to college, home is never really a permanent thing, I feel like. Home can be found randomly at school, though. It comes in small doses- salvation as the nervous freshman who isn't sure who they're going to eat dinner with on their first night of school. Then you find out the dining center is serving something your mom always used to cook, and everyone on your floor wants you to eat with them. Home is getting mail, being with friends, and the familiarity that begins to fill your day. College has become more like home to me, in part because there is less tying me to Round Lake now that everything I care about other than my parents is gone.

Home to me is branching out and meeting the people that exist outside of my zip code. Maybe then, when I have spent time hearing about other places, other lives, can I truly realize that I don't hate all of this town. The way that the whole subdivision decides to mow its lawn within 24 hours and the whole world seems to smell like freshly cut grass. How I can't go anywhere with either of my parents without them seeing someone they know. 

I don't need to come home to find some of my best friends. I could see them a million miles away from the 847 and it would be the same friendship. I don't need to spend every single weekend visiting them at their schools or hosting them in mine, because I don't fear losing it just because we are however far away.  What reassures me the most is that with time, there is no differentiation between those close friends I have known for years and those who I met this year, other than time itself. Quality of time over quantity of years.

<3

Since it's Thanksgiving break, and since you're supposed to name off things you are thankful for, I figured that this would be appropriate to do while I'm trying to type a paper.  

-I'm thankful that I can fall down flights of stairs, run into coffee tables and doorframes on a regular basis and not die. Health is key. I guess so are bruises because they make cool stories.  

-I'm thankful for my family. That ranges from my dad never being surprised by anything and being loyal to the DV-R to the point that I know that we'll catch up on our shows within an hour of me coming home. My mom's love of Panera and always sending me mail when I'm at school with newspaper articles. Chris and his continued education at Hoodridge College. My grandma and anything that comes out of her mouth.  

-I'm thankful that I finally found a job I love going to. I'm thankful that my checks get direct deposited, but I somehow never see the money I make anyways.  

-I'm thankful for the 609 & the G-Unit. The three of you have been by my side through a ton of shit, and I'm pretty sure that in all of that, I found the people who truly matter the most.  

-I'm thankful for the leaves changing from green to all these amazing shades of orange and red. I'm thankful that leaves are somewhat soft so that when I get thrown me into a pile, I have something soft to land on.  

-I'm thankful for my given family. Twelve letters with the power to bring strangers together to become sisters. First. Finest. Forever. To all of the new girls who already are showing their dedication to the chapter, to the girls who went through it with me from the beginning, to the older girls who made us feel at home, and of course to all of the girls who are leaving this year. I don't know what I would do without you.  

-I'm thankful for sushi.  

-I'm thankful for the thread. Funny, how it's called a thread. I feel like sometimes that message between all of us as a thread that holds us all together, despite the distance and differences.  

-I am thankful that there is always an open elliptical when I go to the Rec. And that no one is ever waiting for one when I hit the 20 minute limit, so I just subtly start over. Shhh.  

-I'm thankful for how comfortable the futon is when we're cuddling and how you haven't gotten sick of lasagna rolls yet. Also, I am thankful for gas ovens that don't cause backdrafts because I do not know how to light a match.  

-I'm thankful for Von Maur.  

-I'm thankful to be doing well in all of my classes. Even if this does mean whispering answers across the row to each other during tests and quizzes.  

-I'm thankful for all of my friends, those who I see once a month, and those who are there to eat lunch with me and laugh. Those who have made a difference in my life this past year, week, whatever. I'm thankful for what we have, and what potential there is as time goes on <3

red is the color of the sun with my eyes closed

I like cyclical idioms. Like "it is what is is" and "all we are we are." I like to take solace in sayings like that, because that and the time I spent on the elliptical are about all I seem to have control over at this point. I really really have come to hate nights like this, when I don't have anything I absolutely need to be doing. Nine times out of ten, some song I used to love sophomore year of high school comes on, and I get in this miserable mood where I can't tell if I'm happy or the complete opposite. In the midst of all this, I realize that there actually are things I should be doing, things I should be saying, etc., but I lose the drive to actually do them. I can't get the question out of my head, if I should be crying over the lack of control or happy at everything I've been given. Who the hell knows.

I think I finally have it figured out. I will always be as much in love with you as I was that perfect Friday, when we went on five first dates and I tried to guess when you would kiss me. I think I'll always be at that point, because that was before I figured out I could never have all of you. There have been so many times my heartbeat quickened as my phone vibrated from a text you sent. Whenever I hear your ring tone, I get excited and I can never tell if I'm out of breath from the stairs into your apartment or because I am excited to see you. I made all these plans in my head before considering anyone else into the equation, even you. There is no place I like more than being in your arms, or that look you give me as you kiss me on the forehead. I think that as the summer fades away, we realize that while everything is great between us,  we don't really know what the fall and winter hold for us. My eyes aren't always meant to be that beautiful shade of blue they only ever are after I've been crying. 

Dear Denise,

About a year ago to the date, your life changed. Given, life is always changing; sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse, but regardless, it changed. You went to sleep on Sunday night as an only child who had always dreamed of having sisters. A sister who would be there in the middle of the night when you couldn't stop crying. A sister who would be there to truthfully tell you that your shoes did not match your outfit, and then loan you a pair that did. A sister who was not your best friend all the time, but would still have your back when you needed it. You went to bed on Monday night with all that and more. It's impossible to say you found exactly what you were looking for right away, but over time it came, and it came in a lot of forms. It came in the form of relief when you remembered that a sister had stayed in tonight and would be more than willing to come rescue us from the fraternity party from hell we were stuck at. It came in the form of some glue when your heart was split into a hundred pieces- once in November, and again in March and April.  It came in the form of a stupid choice on your part, and your sisters helping me reconcile what you'd done and make something good come out of it. One can go on and on about the form of sisterhood that happens when a group of sixty-some girls comes together for a common cause, but then again, it couldn't be put it into words. Someone who is not blessed with this amazing experience could not look at you and your sisters and understand the love that exists for each other. 

Tonight you're going to Bid Night. It'll be your first time being on the other side of this amazing night, but obviously not the last. Tonight is all about changing another set of girls' lives. Tonight is about being strangers and Alpha Delta Pi being all it took to bring us all together. It's why our motto "we live for each other" is true, more than anyone realizes. 

Love,

Denise

I think it's funny how, I've spent most of my summer dreaming about the end of it. When it would be time to go back to school, but right before that, when all of best friends would be at home and make this town feel normal for one of the rare times since we all went away. Interestingly enough, most of my time since the summer began has been counting down to various events, driving places, dreading going to work, driving more places, and forgetting to reapply sunscreen while I roast myself in my backyard. While my gas tank filled, I saw my bank account move in the opposite direction. I realized that I should have been working my ass off about two weeks before it is time to leave, with almost an entire week taken off of work to go get drunk in a forest somewhere with my best friends. And looking back on it all, I don't give a fuck what mistakes I made, what nights I stayed in to read instead of going out, or all of the times I didn't answer my phone when I knew work was calling me to work extra hours. I picked a fight because it was easier than admitting it was wrong, I have played two sides of something to benefit myself, and I have spent money on clothes I didn't necessarily need. This summer was not one of those life-changing, revelation-having, epiphanies-every-morning ones. Far from that. Most mornings I woke up and calculated exactly how many minutes until I could peel off my guard suit, change into a bikini and roast myself in the sun. The extent of any revelations I had was that one night I was a third of a catfight waiting to happen, and the next morning we all learned to forget about it and remember that we were best friends again. Epiphanies? Texting while driving is usually a bad idea. Oh, and that life is too short to waste time reading a book you don't like. If you're 50 pages in and aren't feeling it, move onnnnn.

So maybe I didn't spend days in the bleachers at Wrigley like I planned. I didn't swim in the ocean, but only because it was 50 degrees on the day I went and I didn't wanna get my Uggs wet. I didn't skydive, and I only went to Lake Geneva once so far. 

But really, there's two and a half weeks left, and there are infinite possibilities. I'm going to cliff jump. I'm going to drive fast with the music as loud as it goes while we scream at the top of our lungs to the radio. I'm going to buy a pair of shoes because they're on sale, but that match with nothing I own, just to buy an entire outfit to match.

And at the end of my time with my favorite season, I'm going to move all of my shit into a dorm room some twenty stories in the sky hope for the best. This time last year, I knew nothing about how the upcoming year was going to pan out. I had my certainties, but soon learned that even the things you trust and believe in most will not always come through for you. But for all the things that went wrong, I found goodness in so many places. And on that note, I can only hope for another schoolyear to be just as amazing as the last one was. But first, I need to savor my summertime....

it is what it is

It's familiar and amusing, this feeling. Almost like I've had one too many drinks on practically empty stomach. I ran the last straightaway too hard and now I'm on all fours in the grass trying to catch my breath. I've been knocked flat on the floor and have just opened my eyes to realize I am nowhere familiar. I'm about to open a door, behind which I have absolutely no idea about. I could anticipate a mountain of dead fish behind the door, or I could predict that it leads to a sunny patch of clear blue sky above a field of sunflowers.

I'm gonna expect the field of sunflowers. I'm gonna be okay with some dizziness, shortage of breath, and this general feeling of cluelessness because I like where this all is heading.

Whenever I hear the trite phrase "home is where the heart is," I kind of laugh to myself and think about how Round Lake is a place I can't wait to move away from for good. But as I flew over Chicago today on my approach to O'Hare, I realized that home is not just the place you park your car, the town you live in, where you buy groceries, and fall asleep at night. Home is a state of mind. 

Home is me stretching across the woman sitting next to me's lap to see the skyline, something I missed a lot over the past five days. Home is walking to the fridge and seeing that we have water in pitchers, and thankfully pouring myself an ice cold glass of water. Home is knowing that in the end, things will probably work out. 

Home, to me is something I cannot wait to establish. Home is something that I will only find in Chicago. Maybe it's because it is the only place I have come to know, but I truly cannot see myself anywhere else but here.

I find myself visiting new places and seeing aesthetics I hope to one day include in the place I come home to at the end of the day. I see people and things and I cannot wait to have a part of that, however big or small it is. I see a color and know that that exact color is what I want painted on my bathroom walls. I see a man lovingly look at a woman and know that I want something like that. I see a cookbook and think about the thousands of other books I own and think about if I would like built in bookshelves. Am I thinking too far in the future? Absolutely not, because right along with thinking of my preferences of linoleum or wood floors, I'm not thinking of the floor I'm about to spill my drink on. I'm not thinking about how nice the fridge I'm opening is (how it has the freezer on one side and the fridge on the other, something I've always wanted), I'm more focused on the fact that there has got to be another frozen pizza in there somewhere. I'm not fixated on the grill my burger is currently cooking on and how it is built into the deck, I'm just wondering where the ketchup is. 

So while I'm busy living my life, I occasionally wonder when it's going to get started.. but oh wait, it already has.

things i will not say out loud

-Sometimes when I go somewhere, I want to never come back. Take Boston, for example. A part of me wants to bring everything meaningful with me out there and not come back. I'd live by the ocean and in a beautiful city and probably learn a lot about myself while I started over. And then I realize that everything meaningful to me will never fit inside a suitcase, or even a car. I couldn't pack Dexter nights on the couch with my dad into the suitcase, nor would going grocery shopping with my mom fit. My friends wouldn't be able to drop their lives and follow me to the east coast, so really I'd be leaving behind everything meaningful. The buses idling on Fell Street at 5am every day, avoiding stoplights on the back roads with knowledge that only comes from spending many years in one place. The more I think about it, I'll be coming back willingly.

-I'm tired of giving out endless amounts of advice to people who do absolutely nothing with it. I can't count the times in the past six months I've listened to someone talk about how awful things have been going with their lives, and gave them my whole, honest opinion of what I would do. Almost every single one of those occasions has been met with "Don't be mad, but I (insert contraction to whatever advice was given)." So this is me being done. I will not answer when you call me at an obscure hour to hear the same thing I've been hearing. This from the people who were less than willing to hear me out when I needed an ear. 

- I'm really liking the idea of the we pronoun. More and more lately I've been thinking about it and, to be as vague and subtle as possible, I love the concept of being a part of something. More than anything, I want to have something static in the hecticness of the world. I want to look forward to what "we" will do together. Vacations, movies, nights out, and staying in. I love being a part of a constant group of friends, or a constant companion. I want to wake up next to someone I can depend on to be there for me. After a year of trivial relationships and setting my expectations low, I can say that I've been ready to be mature about things.

twenty

I think about turing 20 as a completely irrelevant and useless age. Sure, you're not a teenager anymore, but you stop associating with being a teenager when you become an adult at 18. You're not 21 yet, which is truly the most important age in sight to most of us. Something about 20 gets me though. Maybe it's the fact that some of us never got to turn 20. Yesterday would have been Mike's 20th birthday. Twenty is probably a big deal to a mom who doesn't have her only son anymore. Twenty is a bigger deal to her than it is to any person actually turning twenty.

favorite state of mind

My favorite place to be varies, depending on my mood. At times, it's in front of a treadmill display, watching the timer go from 39:59 to 40:00, or another notable milestone on my workout. Other days, it's anywhere I can spread a towel across the sand and bake my skin for a few hours. A lot of the time, it's anywhere within the Bloomington-Normal city limits, when I have everyone I could possibly want within walking distance or a phone call away. My bed ranks high up on the list, but never as high as possible because sometimes it feels like it's too big for just me. Other times, it's Michigan Avenue, right as you're approaching it about to walk up to Millennium Park. But really, truly, my favorite place is thousands of miles away. 

My favorite place is somewhere between the top of the Acropolis, where you can see all of Athens, the Aegean sea, and probably the Mediterranean if you look hard enough. Between a cobblestone street running through the Plaka, fending off calls of 'Kalimera, tikanis?' from shopkeepers and trying not to get trampled by flocks of tour groups. It's somewhere between the center of the city at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider, and about an hour outside the city on the pebble beaches of Glifada. 

At times, especially recently, I find myself completely and absolutely overwhelmed. Rather than just relaxing, I let my thoughts drive me into a less-than-pleasant place, and spend afternoons worrying over something irrelevant. I simply need to teach myself that whatever happens, will happen. I need to find myself standing on top of the Acropolis and feel the wind blowing through my hair on an eighty degree day and realize that there is a lot more to life than hating my jobs, overthinking, and worrying about whether or not I'll get enough sleep tonight. Maybe not that there's more to life than all that, but maybe to just slow things down for once. Focus on the good things and soon anything negative will push itself out of focus. I inhale and try to picture what that day looked like two whole years ago. There is a little bit of smog over the city, and you can see the Mediterranean Sea through some of the mountains. It is really hot out, at least eighty-five degrees now with no shade. We timed our trip to the Parthenon poorly, since it is a Saturday and high noon. I try to pick out the ship we'll be sailing on the next day, but there are too many boats going through the port to focus on just one. My mom is trying to drag me towards some sort of photo opportunity, and I wonder just how many pictures I can take up here before I fill my camera card up halfway into our trip. I just want to preserve this moment forever.

Preserve this moment forever so that two years later when I find myself about to cry from being overtired, overworked and underappreciated, I can bring myself back to that exact moment in time and feel calm. I close my eyes for a few minutes and think about how it felt above that city to have the wind whirling around me, the sun beating down, and history rising up from the cracks in the architecture. When I open my eyes again, I don't even remember what was troubling me before, and all of the sleep I've missed in the past few days is irrelevant. 

It's like my worries are nothing when I am in my favorite place- physically or mentally, and that is exactly where my favorite state of mind rests.

paint.

I find myself sitting in the room where all of my paints, brushes and anything else art-related is stored. As I roll out a piece of wax paper to begin mixing paint on, I can't help but feel like one thing I truly love never really cared for me back. Art was my passion. Upon nearing my high school graduation, I figured that I could take my passion and turn it into a career. I busted my ass putting together a portfolio, meeting with professors, and staying after school to keep making things. All summer I could hardly think of anything but all the art classes I would be taking. By the second week of the semester, I loved my art history class more than I could imagine and was completely obsessed with my 3-D Design class. But have you ever felt like you were giving your best to something only to fail miserably at it? I feel that way about 2-D, a class I needed a C in order to continue being an art major. I fucking cried over that class, tried to email my professor and spent hours in the CVA trying to understand the assignments we were given. For the first time in my life, I felt like a blind person trying to read letters off a page. For the first time in my life, I felt like something I had once loved so much didn't love me back. It was as though I was in a bad relationship, spiraling downwards and I was holding on for the ride. I dreaded going to my art classes and I no longer felt excited to start new projects. The night I officially switched myself out of my second semester art classes and regressed to being an undecided major, I sat down with a 24"x36" canvas and a photograph of a church I took in Greece. I stayed up until I was completely finished with the painting, and at 4am I realized that I didn't need to turn my passion into my job for me to truly love it. I didn't need a grade to tell me that I had some form of talent. So here I am on a random summer morning when I should have probably gone back to sleep, about to mix paint for the first time in a while. Every time my mom has people over, she points out the painting above the fireplace and tells people about how I painted it for her. She doesn't mention the first D I ever received, or all of the projects I keep hidden in the guest bedroom & I don't mention the fact that I lost touch of something I really loved for an entire semester. Love is a funny thing. It has the ability to disguise itself, make you doubt it's not there, but when there's paint loaded up on a brush, I know that the love is there.

transitions

It's funny how I can go from having one of the best weekends ever to feeling so, so low. Really, it's quite simple. All it takes is me driving far away from about 60% of the things that hold relevance and meaning to me (The other 40%- my family, the tcd, my bed at home, and the dv-r- are still important, however). I drive away from the place I've lived the past nine amazing months at, my close friends, and familiarity for utter boredom back home- so surprisingly, I'm not too happy. Mix in about all of Illinois' licensed drivers who have no idea that the left lane is for passing and not driving in tandem next to the slow moving farm equipment in the right lane. Factor in the fact that when I got home, all I could focus on was how my throat was killing me and I was exhausted. I could barely leave out enough details when I recapped my weekend with my mom so that she would not know I spent 3am on Saturday night chugging Lunch Boxes and rolling around in the backseat of a cab. Exhausting. And then, I found myself in bed, unable to fall asleep, not so different from the past two weeks. There's something about laying next to someone you care about and not sleeping because you're busy talking in comparison to laying in your bed by yourself, restless. And amazingly, I somehow managed to drag myself over to the pool to dip myself in chlorine with ninos for two hours. I ran like hell out of there to bake myself in the sun for the remaining hours of my day and even that felt like un-quality time. The rest of the afternoon was unproductive up until Derrik and I spent a good two hours on the phone plotting our lives in general. I cried at some point, laughed my ass off, and knee drove my way to work. Within an hour of working at Forever, my feet and shoulders started hurting while I dragged around a cart of run-backs. I realized that retail customers are possibly the rudest people in the world, and I couldn't understand why after someone tried clothes on, they would possibly see it fitting to ball the garment up in the corner of the fitting room rather than just fucking hanging it on the hanger. A whole hour and a half after Gurnee Mills closed its doors to all of the quality customers who shop there, Forever 21 was finally restored back to its original splendor- a somewhat disorganized chaos. One would think that when a mall parking lot is empty, it would be easy to remember where you parked, but this is not the case. After finding my car and subjecting myself to listen to downer music to continue my mood of being pissed off, I made my way home to where I am right now: cranky and not looking forward to my life this week. The most important thing I learned today is that I need to start creating occasions for all of the clothes I buy, and that I will never live in Round Lake for a long period of time again. That is fucking all.

It's been a good two weeks since I've been able to write anything notable. I hate that I have so much to say but I can't seem to get it all out there. I want so much to put it all into words, but yet I'm holding back. I'm holding back because it is probably too early to start making assumptions and ideas. It's too soon to start putting my thoughts into motion when I want so badly to do just that.
I pride myself on being honest to people, but I feel like the first person I need to really be honest with is myself. I find myself saying that I hate how insecure I am, how harshly I take things, and how much I over think. If someone came to me and told me those things, I could think of a bunch of ways to change that, yet I'm the worst person to help myself.
I believe in exceptions to how someone is behaving. I believe in routines, that if I do something a certain way, then this result will happen. 

It's frustrating.

What's more frustrating is that I cannot get what I want to say out of this mess of words

I hate that I have so much to say but I can't seem to get it all written down. I want so much to put it all into words, but yet I'm holding back. I'm holding back because it is too early to start making assumptions and ideas. It's too soon to start putting my thoughts into motion when I want so badly to do just that.

Is it ever too early?

While cleaning through my room, I found a bunch of shoeboxes tucked into the back of my bookshelf. I admit, I knew they were there, but a part of me had forgotten those parts of my life. The outsides said "Freshman Year," "Summers," "Junior Year," and some guy's names that are completely irrelevant at this point in time. Looking at one of them, I felt like something was wrapping itself around my neck. It was the familiar sense of strangling that I knew all too well for almost two years. I stopped for a minute, and realized that I would never have to deal with that again if I didn't want to, and that fact alone reassured me. I pushed past that box, contemplating just throwing it away when I was done, and found one that gave me all happy memories at this point. Before I even opened the box, I remembered the beginning of it all. Some summer afternoon in the middle of a nap, I got a phone call. I spent a good two hours reading the letters in that box, looking at ticket stubs, and things that had decorated the locker we shared. There was a letter to "the only girl I would walk four miles for at 5am" and I found myself remembering those times. That fall we shared was a blur, mostly because it was so many good times spent together. The winter came with the kind of destruction it can do to pull people whose relationship is based on warm weather. I remember saying goodbye at school for winter break and then everything changed. That was goodbye to whatever was normal, goodbye to our fall together and goodbye to the hypothetical fall. The months to follow can be summed up by busying myself with other things as to not have to think. And in that spring came my time tested theory that rather than being upset, I'll just find something else to spend time thinking about. Enter what can be best described as two years of not letting myself feel upset or remorse for things that had gone wrong. When one relationship ended, I had already found something or someone else to amuse me. And you know what? I don't feel like any worse of a person for doing that. Rather than be upset as what I'd spent a year and a half working towards self destructed, I fell in love with a world that was completely different than what I had become accustomed to. And rather than feel like a year and a half of my life was missing and had been pointless, I felt absolutely fine. I eventually found that my distraction had could stand Greek Islands and hotel courtyards, but could not hold its own on American soil. And then began more distractions.
Looking through those boxes was an mixture of a lot of different feelings. I found things I related to people I wouldn't dream of talking to today. I found things I had completely forgotten about up until that moment, and most of the time I found myself laughing at how dumb I was when I was fourteen, sixteen, and even eighteen years old.
I love remembering things; looking at pictures, hearing songs from a certain time in my life. Memories the first time you really look at someone you haven't seen in a while. You either get that warm feeling of recognition, or you realize you never even really knew them at all.

I've always been the type of person to put in more than enough effort into something. When it comes to getting what I want, I go for it. I make the plans for my friends days in advance and watch when they make other plans. I tried to talk things over to make things better, but somehow he didn't see I was worth any value to him.
Right now, I just want to know if the people I care so much about think about me nearly as much as I do them
Because it doesn't seem like it at all. After spending three weeks alone, save for my parents and the two times I've gone out and did something, I'm not too optimistic

I am usually so full of optimism. I had a great day today, but as I sit in my room right now doing absolutely nothing, I have never felt more alone.

Why is it that no matter how hard I try, it always comes back to you?
You, the first person I woke up next to consecutively to where it felt normal. You were the first person I truly felt like I had couple friends with. You saw me through the beginnings of the worst and a lot of the best. When I think about you on "paper," you were not good for me. I cannot shake the sense of caring that I have for you, now months later.
Ugh

ideally.

Sometime in the near future, I want a wraparound porch that can easily fit twenty of my closest friends and a keg for those summer nights when the last thing we want is to go inside. Ideally, it would be somewhere in Lincoln Park, of maybe just steps away from where I grew up. A part of me longs to return to Damen and Grace Street when I am done with my time at school. To be a few blocks away from a fly ball, the city, and the Lake would be ideal. I want a guy who understands my urges to lose myself in a new city or town, who will not hesitate to be right there with me as we drive just to hear the wind and music at the same time. Someone who sleeps better when he is holding onto me, and understands the many things I can find myself fitting into. I will shed the outfit I put tireless effort into buying from a trendy store and put on workout clothes to train myself for something or another. When I get back from the gym, I will neglect to wear makeup like I do any other day, and as soon as I hear some of my favorite songs, I long to have a blunt in one hand and a Long Island in the other. All of this can and will happen within the same day. I want there to be buttercream cupcakes with just a little frosting easily accessible when I want one, yet far far away when I know I should not have them. If only there was an endless supply of Propel water in my fridge and watermelon grew all year. Ideally, Bob Marley would still be alive and would live down the street. Most importantly, guitar would not be so damn hard to learn.

A large but comfortable sweatshirt that smells attractive, a David Sedaris book I haven't read yet, the smell of lilacs blowing in through the open window, an eventless afternoon, and some chai tea.
I find this to be a decent beginning to the summer of 2009, even though I swear up and down that I'm bored of being home already. I have enough Snow Patrol and Keith Urban downloaded onto my laptop that I'll probably be content for hours without having to change the song.
In this entirely empty, uneventful afternoon lies a large amount of what I look for in the future. Whether it's the lyrics I identify with, or anything said by David Sedaris. One day, I hope to be somewhat like him- except straight and lacking a nicotine addiction. In "Sweet Thing" I hear how I hope my summer will go, and I feel like I'm close to getting what I want, if not a little bit off. (Something about speaking vaguely makes me feel confident that the people I'm talking about will not catch onto what I'm saying, but then again, that's never the case). In the stack of books I got from the library I can see more of what I aspire to be. While I didn't get any books written by what I really want to be- a high school English teacher who somehow has the income to support endless summers of traveling the world- I feel like almost any writer knows what I'm dreaming of.
And again, I'm stuck by that constant desire to be anywhere but someplace familiar. I'm going to Boston next month, a place I've been to many times, but still I would be counting down the days if I knew exactly when I was leaving. I can't wait to follow a red line through a city whose baseball team I loathe just to experience something out of the ordinary. And more importantly, to be able to have something to say about it at the end of the day.

As soon as I get home and can spread out on my cloud of a bed, I feel like I can't do anything but write. I want to travel the world and write about what I see, but I worry that I will never be able to compose thoughts as much as I can when I am right here. What if that really is the case? Can I see more clearly when I am in my room at home, with it's blue walls and a novice attempt to paint myself into some exotic destination? Or is it that when I am at home, away from the rest of my life, per say, I can see things from a different perspective?
I think that while looking at things from a different perspective, I'm finally realizing the magnitude of my actions. As of lately, let's say, the past two months, I've adopted an attitude that is all too familiar. I seem to get my heart stepped on by someone who is less than deserving of it to begin with, and in the weeks to follow I set out to prove to everyone that I don't give a shit to cover up for how much or how little I do care. I feel like the past few weeks are reminiscent of the last weeks of summer and my whole carpe diem approach to things. I find myself being openly critical and a little too honest about things. With that attitude, I'm realizing that even the smallest thing is important.
But back to feeling bad. I feel bad that I have so much when others do not. I feel bad about my actions towards certain people. I feel really bad about my actions towards certain people. I feel bad that I do not see my family as much as I would like to. I feel bad when I convince myself to cut a run short. I feel bad that I write things I wish I could share, but am too afraid of how certain people might take it.
I feel less bad because I volunteer as much as I can. I feel less bad because I am always willing to apologize when I have done something wrong. I feel less bad because I can reminisce and see the goodness in people that I may not like anymore. I feel less bad when my family all gets together and laughs for hours straight. I feel less bad when I wake up and can actually stand without my legs being sore. I feel less bad when I post everything I write to a blog that no one knows about.



sleep.

Put Dispatch on the stereo again and we'll kiss until we can no longer stay awake. Then and only then will it seem like a good idea to move into your bed. It's chilly in this room, so we'll snuggle together for warmth. There's not much room, but between the two of us, we could not care less. Dispatch is still playing on the stereo in the other room, or maybe it's the Red Hot Chili Peppers now. It doesn't matter, because your skin is enough noise for me. Let's take a drive when we wake up. We'll switch genres and play some country music as we drive down back roads with the window's down. Diet Pepsi tastes so much better out of a straw in a cup far too big for any car's cupholders. Will you kiss my forehead and look at me in a way that makes me feel like the wind can go right through me?

As I conquered my mountain of laundry tonight, my mom told me how she couldn't believe it had been a year. I laughed, and told her I couldn't either, but the realization I had made me stop what I was doing for more than a minute. The past nine months sort of played through my head like a low-quality movie montage, and I realized that I can't believe it either. At all. Like, the past nine months of my life have been amazing, so many highs, some lows, and amazingness in between. I almost feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow and this will all have been a dream. Everyone who has touched my life and I have been blessed to spend time with seem so wonderful it's like they're not real

we leave as family..
I don't know what my life is going to be like this time next week when all of my friends are mile away from each other. Interesting, because this was exactly how I felt at the end of the summer. I have a small family, but such a large group of friends who have become family.

I wish that every day of my life could be like this past Saturday: Sun, punctuated by pointless rain showers and occasional trips inside to continue hydrating and eating.

The more I think about it, my life is like this past Saturday.

I stay optimistic like sunshine, and then some pointless rain showers come to give me a hard time. The thing about these pointless rain showers is just that. They are pointless. I think a lot of you can figure out what I'm saying, no matter how cryptically I'm putting it. I think that sometimes you need a little bit of rain in your life to make you realize how good you have it when it's sunny out. Sometimes that rain comes in the middle of the night in the form of a lapse of judgement, and sometimes you wake up to rainbows and blossoming flowers and all that good stuff. I think that with the flowers and everything nice, you realize that life isn't as hectic as you once thought it was. Maybe all of my problems have been resolved within the past week and it's not possible to be as stressed as I once was. Or maybe it's because I'm a little over a week away from summer and haven't let it hit me yet.

Regardless, my life is like Saturday because I can drag my ass out of bed to get my shit done and have a damn good time. I dance on top of the stage that is my life, and I throw myself into crowds of people like it's my job. Most importantly, I have some of the best friends in the world standing right there with me.

I imagine that when you do something for yourself and just for yourself, the final outcome must be satisfying.
I feel that lately, I haven't been doing things for myself as much as I deserve. I'm constantly ruled by everything I've scheduled for myself. The study hours I must complete, classes I need to be at and functions I need to attend. I am constantly making sure everyone else around me is happy before I even begin to care about myself. I feel like it might be time to put a stop to all of that and start doing things for myself more often.

something i can't define : ]

I can't shake the fact that I resemble a deer or Ben Franklin in like, 80% of photographs. Or the fact that my fingertips hurt in a way fingertips should not hurt. Regardless, I'm in one of those weird moods where I know that I should be asleep and not writing... especially since I have nothing good to be writing about. I mean, I guess I could reiterate my point that my birthday is always a letdown, but I've been saying that for weeks now. I could blab on and on about how my friends, sisters and family have been the only reason I have not thrown myself into traffic (even though some of them are the reason I would feel that urge at all). I'm going to abstain from doing all of that and fall back on what is probably my favorite subject to write about- going places that are not here.
Today my uncle showed me 300-some pictures from his and my grandma's recent trip to South America. At first, I wondered why my grandma, someone who thinks that her homeland of Greece is flawless and doesn't realize it is a third world country much like the rest of the world, would go to South America. Or my uncle, who, upon arriving in Turkey for the first time two summers ago did not leave the ship except to take pictures of the Royal Caribbean ship coming into the port next to us. I, on the other hand was almost sold away to marry some Turkish man in exchange for camels and a rug or two. Before I completely lose track of why it's so strange to me that my elderly relatives were in South America, let me elaborate. My grandmother is eighty four years old, talks to strangers, and refers to anyone hispanic as "espanols," as though they would not guess that she was referring to them in a particularly unappreciative sense. All of this being said, she is a sweet woman and a die-hard lover of all things Chicago. She has season tickets to the Cubs and the Bears, and gets around better than most 40 year olds. My uncle is at least twenty years younger than my grandmother, his sister, and does not have his driver's license. The two of them combined are quite the pair. So, imagine my grandma and uncle in South America.
Think about how many people you even know that have been to South America even. Exactly. I want to go there. Any unpleasant situation I am put in, I am almost always thinking of what exotic location I would rather be at. 9am on Tuesday rolls around and I'm staggering across the quad to my math lab. I would rather be jet-lagged and sleepless at 4am in London than listening to someone whose first language is obviously not English try and teach me word problems. I am stuck in traffic on 294, what else is new. I would much rather be back in the mixed traffic of bikes, cars, animals and buses in Beijing than stuck in my own car. I can go on and on, but I feel like that would be redundant. The outcome to any unpleasant situation is that I'd rather be doing it somewhere new. I love Chicago, to the point where I play Kanye's "Homecoming" every time I come back to the city after a long time. To me, there is nothing like driving down the back roads of Lake County or watching the sunset over the lake. As much as I could see myself anywhere but here, I can see myself in Chicago forever. Maybe it's like I need to go away to find out where I truly belong.
From what I've already experienced, I can take a part of whatever distant city I'm visiting and bring it back home with me. A part of my heart will always be somewhere in Greece, lost somewhere between the Parthenon and the caldera of Santorini, but in place of that missing piece, there is something more. Upon leaving Greece, I found something to identify with. I think I truly learned to appreciate spending time with myself in San Antonio, and I found identity in a gift shop in Edinburgh, Scotland. Jamaica taught me that you can wake up in paradise and find that your entire world has been changed and will never be the same ever again, but if you stick together, you can make it through just about anything. Somewhere in between Michigan and Wisconsin, I learned that when no one else seems to be there for me, I will always have my best friend, and that it is always a good idea to go to the bathroom while still in civilization. In a Norwegian fjord, I learned how to breathe for the first time.
From Dubai, I want to experience and appreciate a culture I otherwise do not agree with. I expect Bali to teach me serenity, and in Cairo I want to feel infinite. I want to read a French newspaper in a cafe on the Seine River. I'd like to understand what the words meant, but it's not completely mandatory. I'd like for tourists to stop me and ask for directions in Istanbul. I'll speak Greek to anyone and everyone I meet in Thessaloniki. I want to drive from Chicago to Los Angeles without feeling any particular regard to time. I want to watch the sun rise over Sydney and watch it set from Santiago.
I want so much out of life. Now that the haze of the past few weeks has dissipated, I feel like I can finally see where I am headed again. My God, it feels so good to see again.

always coming down from the night before i met you

I haven't been able to write lately, and it's really bothering me. So I guess I'll ramble in hopes that it'll form something of quality.
Lately, it seems that everything is getting piled on. Right now is either a test, or a giant, hectic mess. I feel like it's the latter, but I'd like to stay optimistic that it's just a test. A test because I've been selling myself short lately, and I know I can handle things if I look at them the right way. There have been nights these past few weeks where I prefer not to fall asleep, and mornings when I wake up before it's light out and wonder why I can't sleep past dawn anymore. Tonight, I looked through a bunch of old pictures and saw how much fun I was having- at the beginning of the schoolyear, or even a few weeks ago. I've managed to allow myself to get so consumed with things that are bringing me down, that I overlook the simple things. I forget to eat because I worry about things I have no control over. I worry myself to sleep and wake up exhausted. I feel like I have such a large part of my life missing, and I can't seem to find it. I know that it's not just because certain things having ended that I feel this way, it's something more than that. 

I need to find it.

you met my parents yesterday. I feel like that solidified how I feel about you, even if sometimes my non-existent self esteem makes me question if you feel the same way. As much as I tell people that my parents are easy to impress and 'ohh, they'll like you, don't worry' that is false hope. I feel like you genuinely did impress them, the same way you do for me. We were sitting on the couch and my head was resting on your lap and I caught you looking at me in a really loving way. You've done it before, but nestled up on the couch with me in the place I call home meant something different to me. I'm falling in love with you and I want to tell you, but at the same time I'm terrified of being vulnerable.

things are not the same

i want this dress so much, even if it means asking for it to be my birthday gift divided up amongst my relatives. i've never felt as beautiful or as skinny as i did when i tried on that dress today.

moreso than anything, i want to go back to when my mom didn't almost cry when she had to tell me she couldn't buy me something because we didn't have enough money

things are not the same.

saves the day, sophomore year & subconscious.

When I come back home from school, I feel like I'm regressing into something different.
I'm sitting here in my old room, talking to and thinking about new people, and something feels strange. Saves the Day is playing on my laptop, and that alone reminds me of sophomore year: Sunday night walks around town, driving back from Mike's wake, and afternoons on back porches. I left that part of my life a while ago. Some might say when I realized that half of the people I spent time with then are no longer a part of my life, minus two or three people. But mostly, I left that part of my life when I moved away. I moved away and learned that some people will come and go from your life like a blip on a radar. Some are constantly there, somewhere in the background like radio static, and some are by your side no matter what. I seem to always be having this epiphany about people and friends, but it's true. 

For some reason, I can never sleep the night before something important. Today held no other importance other than the fact that I was going home and Mike was taking me out to lunch, but I still couldn't sleep. I started thinking about a bunch of stuff that was at best, a bunch of useless thoughts. I thought about what could best be known as the biggest waste of year and three months of my life. If you knew me in high school, you can pinpoint exactly who that waste of time was. Sometimes when I smell weed and cigarettes, mixed with a father and son devastated by a divorce that was a long time coming, I'm reminded of Josh. I feel like I'm going to be sick, and it's not sick with regret or being upset, it's mostly because I'm a completely different person right now and I can't believe I put up with some of the stuff I did. Getting called at 3am, accused of being out at a party, when I obviously had been woken up.. the saddest thing was that I reassured him "No baby, I love you. Go back to bed, you had a bad dream" not "No, you're an idiot if you think I would do that to you. Use your senses" No. None of that was said. Sadly, I could not even come up with something mean enough to say when he told me he cheated on me, something he had said I would eventually do to him. Right.

Back to how I am now. I feel like I'm a million times better, less likely to get walked all over, but just as weary towards guys who seem like they'll cheat. What can I say? After being reassured that a girl is "harmless, just a close female friend" time and time again, how will I know that the second I leave the country she isn't jumping on my boyfriend's dick? Most importantly, after everything: the attempts at controlling and manipulating me, I have walked away a much stronger person. I'm not afraid to tell anyone exactly what I think, want or need. I don't need someone to set me boundaries and I sure as hell won't take shit from anyone.

With that being said, I would like to leave off on a lighter note that the beginnings of a relationship when you first start falling for someone is some of the best times in the world

<3

Plain and simple: the things in my life that make me happy are far more abundant that anything that's trying to bring me down. Real talk, I'm in love with the world right now for many reasons.
I'm in the process of making something awesome for someone rather important to me. Upon reading this, I'm sure it will ruin the surprise, but I can never keep things under wraps long enough for them to be a surprise anyways.
I keep going from laptop speakers to headphones because my roommate keeps walking in- a pain in the ass, but I can't help but think of how this will not be a problem next year when I have a room to myself. I'll be free to open the shades upon waking up and blast some cheery music without waking anyone up.
And most importantly, it is almost springtime and my wardrobe can expand from a hoodie underneath a North Face to, oh, just about anything.
I have found that I have a weakness for charities, especially those with exciting events and the promise of a free sweatshirt with a minimum donation. I just heard about a 2 day, 180-mile bike trip from Evanston to Lake Geneva for AIDS awareness, and really wanted to do it. I should probably just stick with training for my triathlon at the end of the summer, but I'm enticed.
Working out truly does have a positive effect on me.. come 5pm on a Monday and I can barely function unless I am en route to the Rec Center. I feel like that is an obsession I can deal with, since I've lost a Freshman 15 and then some it seems like.
Most importantly, I am in love with the world because of the people who have become my world. I feel like I am pretty good at showing my appreciation, but for the times I am not, I feel like this not would be a good reminder of just how much certain people mean to me.

-My family, for constantly harassing me via text message about something or other, or all the crazy holidays we have spent together, bonding over making fun of each other.
-To my five best friends from home: Derrik, Rob, Tabatha, Kim and Ari. I don't know how I would have survived without any one of you in my life the past few years, and even moreso now. There are, at the least 60 miles between us, and the greatest, a full day of driving. I feel like I am closer than a few minute's walk away, especially because I wish that was all it was.
-To my newfound superclose friends, the girls who were there for me when I went through hell and made it nothing short of amazing in the end. The guys who have had my back through the good times and the bad. Allie, Nicole, Sarah. Sam, Ryan, Josh. I can't imagine ever having as much fun as I've had without you all around. We are never not having fun, and I know that we'll stay close next year when we're all over campus and over the summer. There are many trips to be planned and I know I'm the one who will handle it..
-To Mike, who's been there for me more than I think he realizes. I feel like it's been such a short time, but there have been so many memories and happy times already. I love our Saturday night ritual of pizza, a movie, getting ready together and going out. I appreciate that I can come over at any time of the day and you'll probably be asleep and really, really warm. And of course, (however, I don't appreciate this, as much as I've come to tolerate it) your penchant for calling me "honey" in the most condescending tone over.
-To my sisters, Sarah, Eryn, Caitlin, Amanda, Amy, and Geralyn. I feel like I can count on you girls for anything. We've had our crazy times together, some rough times, and some really memorable times. As much as study hours start to wear on me, I dread chapter, and don't look forward to telling my mom it's time to pay dues for what seems like the tenth time this month, it's all been worth it.


So yeah, that's it.
I think this is slightly more endearing than tagging you all as South Park characters for what i think you represent, don't you think?
<3

do SOMETHING

I feel like I would be awful at meditating. Trust me, I've tried it and it did not go well. I simply cannot be still. I can't quiet my thoughts, I dislike being alone and I always seem to have music on. The only time I can really handle still is when I'm falling asleep, and that's because my mind is running so that my stereo is not.
It's almost as though I can't function without giving myself something to worry about- whether it's my GPA, if I'll be able to run for long enough tomorrow, or simple, meaningless things such as how my room will be laid out next year. Interestingly, I have a hard time thinking about the things that really matter as they are happening- that maybe I don't need to buy whatever shoes I'm trying on, or that by being really blunt about something I might not be helping the situation.
Mostly, I feel that even though my mind is always moving at a thousand miles an hour, that I don't get to write as much anymore. I don't get to sit outside and just enjoy the breeze. And the obvious, I don't get to take long baths on Sunday nights anymore. I have this urge to be perpetually in motion. Sometimes I feel like my obsessive planning is a good thing, and other times, at the end of the night it has completely worn me out. I'm not sure what the point I'm trying to make is even.
I recall a text I got earlier this week when I turned my phone on, from a number that was not in my phone book saying "Your writing is beautiful." All I've ever wanted to do is create something beautiful. Words, pictures, a concept. I feel like I'm so close to achieving everything I've ever wanted to do. The more I am in motion, the sooner I will get there. The simple reason why I make lists like its my job.. the more I can see where I want to be, the easier it is for me to envision it. I feel like it is no coincidence that last summer was the best summer I've had when I made a list of things I wanted to experience at the beginning. By no means do I live off a list, in fact, I'm pretty spontaneous, but guidelines can get you anywhere you want to be. I feel like I'm alright at letting go of things that are unattainable. I'm even better at setting a goal for myself and going above and beyond it. However, I'm always terrible at ending things.


<3

so much of the time there's a lot running through my head and i can never get a moment to capture it all down.

a lot has changed in the past few weeks.

i've realized that the friends i have back home will always have my back, no matter how many miles are put between us. 

i've realized that more than anything, i love being kissed on the forehead.

i've realized that i cannot wait for the weather to warm up

and that i need to set aside more time for myself, no matter how much i dislike being alone.

that is all.

for some reason I've been really bummed and nervous all day today. not a good way to spend one of the last days of break.

pointless things.

i wish i didn't overthink things as much. i wish i could shut my mind up when it's time for me to sleep. i wish that a nice boy would realize that i'm a really sweet girl with the capacity to love someone a lot. i wish that more than anything, really. i wish i could read minds. i wish it wasn't so cold out. i wish i felt a little more secure about my future, and whether or not i'm making the right choice changing my major. i wish derrik lived closer. i wish things were like how they used to be with certain people, and i wish i'd never met others. 

that is all.