Hannah being home apparently means no blogging...  Sorry about that.  I don't have much to tell you.  I've basically been sitting around all day.  I organized, and threw things away (which is very hard for me to do, as I like to hoard things...  Throwing things away is so hard.  Until the thing is in the trash bag.  And then you wonder why you're held on for so long.), and cleaned, and unpacked, and moved many pounds of books from the house to the garage.  I also sat on facebook for several hours.  Yup.  And took a nap, and played video games.  I guess I did a lot of things today, actually.  They were all just things that aren't impressive/interesting.

I did flip through a couple of my old journals today, as I was looking for a specific entry from four years ago.  It was... amusing... or interesting... or a little cringe-inducing.  Reading them back, I was so young.  Or naive.  I was trying to figure out who I was in this world, and it's a little embarrassing to read that.  Especially as that was the year of my first huge crush (actually, I think my only huge crush... no, I guess there has been one other since then.  Maybe....  And Aaron doesn't count as a crush, because I was never infatuated with him.  Infatuation does not equal love in any sort of way.)...  Oh dear.  I was so... young.  Even though I was sixteen, I was still so young.  So that was interesting.

Tomorrow I get to hang with one of my best friends!  Yay! for summer vacation.

I am home.

And I am happy.  I slept about eleven hours last night, after hanging with Aaron for nine hours, which was fantastic.  I got a little sunburned, because we have a habit of hanging out in parks, and I forgot to put on sunscreen, but that just meant that I slept long and deeply last night.  I am regaining peace and normalcy, after this past semester when neither of those things were a part of my life.  I am so happy to be home.  And I get to hang out with Gwen tonight, which I am pretty jazzed about.

Thoughts in my head tonight

Endings are sad, even when you know that the next beginning will be so much better than the thing that is ending.

I need to start a list of projects for the summer.  Have I turned into someone who is only happy when they are busy with a project?  Oh dear lord, I hope not.

I should go to bed.  Or pack more.  Or go to bed so I can get up and pack in the morning before my mother gets here.

My room is sad and empty.  I am sad as well.  But it is a transient sadness.



I'M COMING HOME TOMORROW!  ARMFLAIL!

Lalalalalala

Instead of writing my take home final, I've been watching things like this...



1 day!
Happy Dance!

Float On

2 (Two!) More days till finals are over.
3 more days till I'm home!
4 days till I get to see some of my favorite people in the world!

So....

I was sitting on my bed an hour or so ago working on my paper, thinking about how great it is that my mind is cooperating and supplying me with lots of words and sentences and ideas, and that I've actually learned stuff from this class, and how cool that is.  And then I realized I was clacking my hands together in a pincher movement, rocking back and forth, and quietly chanting "wordswordswordswords".  O_o What is wrong with me?

5 days!

How I feel this morning

(apologies to Gwen.  Oh wait, she doesn't read peoples blogs. Nevermind)

Spamming, Shenanigans, and Spiels

I wrote a long blog post this morning that I didn't finish.  And I'm still not done with it so you're not getting it tonight.  Oh well.  Today was a good day, once I embraced the fact that I wasn't going to get any work done at all.  I was on facebook for hours and hours.  Most of the day, in fact.  I watched one movie and part of another.  I played many, many games of solitaire.  I listened to a sermon.  I tried to write a blog post.  And I enjoyed not having class and not having a ton to do.  I still have some things to write and study for, but the end is actually, really in sight.  Finally.  And I am regaining my normal positive outlook on life.  Yeah.  Life is good again.  That isn't to say that in the midst of writing a paper tomorrow, I won't be all "WAHHHHH PAPERS ARE OBNOXIOUS!"  But things are better, and more normal.  I think.  I hope.  I believe.

I can do this!



6 days!

I like this poem

LINES COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR. JULY 13, 1798 by William Wordsworth

      FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length
      Of five long winters! and again I hear
      These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
      With a soft inland murmur.--Once again
      Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
      That on a wild secluded scene impress
      Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
      The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
      The day is come when I again repose
      Here, under this dark sycamore, and view                        10
      These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
      Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
      Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
      'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
      These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
      Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
      Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
      Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
      With some uncertain notice, as might seem
      Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,                     20
      Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
      The Hermit sits alone.
                              These beauteous forms,
      Through a long absence, have not been to me
      As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
      But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
      Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
      In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
      Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
      And passing even into my purer mind,
      With tranquil restoration:--feelings too                        30
      Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
      As have no slight or trivial influence
      On that best portion of a good man's life,
      His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
      Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
      To them I may have owed another gift,
      Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
      In which the burthen of the mystery,
      In which the heavy and the weary weight
      Of all this unintelligible world,                               40
      Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood,
      In which the affections gently lead us on,--
      Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
      And even the motion of our human blood
      Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
      In body, and become a living soul:
      While with an eye made quiet by the power
      Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
      We see into the life of things.
                                       If this
      Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft--                        50
      In darkness and amid the many shapes
      Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
      Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
      Have hung upon the beatings of my heart--
      How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
      O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,
      How often has my spirit turned to thee!
        And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
      With many recognitions dim and faint,
      And somewhat of a sad perplexity,                               60
      The picture of the mind revives again:
      While here I stand, not only with the sense
      Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
      That in this moment there is life and food
      For future years. And so I dare to hope,
      Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
      I came among these hills; when like a roe
      I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
      Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
      Wherever nature led: more like a man                            70
      Flying from something that he dreads, than one
      Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
      (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days,
      And their glad animal movements all gone by)
      To me was all in all.--I cannot paint
      What then I was. The sounding cataract
      Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
      The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
      Their colours and their forms, were then to me
      An appetite; a feeling and a love,                              80
      That had no need of a remoter charm,
      By thought supplied, nor any interest
      Unborrowed from the eye.--That time is past,
      And all its aching joys are now no more,
      And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
      Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur, other gifts
      Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
      Abundant recompence. For I have learned
      To look on nature, not as in the hour
      Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes                    90
      The still, sad music of humanity,
      Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
      To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
      A presence that disturbs me with the joy
      Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
      Of something far more deeply interfused,
      Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
      And the round ocean and the living air,
      And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
      A motion and a spirit, that impels                             100
      All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
      And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
      A lover of the meadows and the woods,
      And mountains; and of all that we behold
      From this green earth; of all the mighty world
      Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create,
      And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
      In nature and the language of the sense,
      The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
      The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul                  110
      Of all my moral being.
                              Nor perchance,
      If I were not thus taught, should I the more
      Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
      For thou art with me here upon the banks
      Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
      My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
      The language of my former heart, and read
      My former pleasures in the shooting lights
      Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
      May I behold in thee what I was once,                          120
      My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
      Knowing that Nature never did betray
      The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
      Through all the years of this our life, to lead
      From joy to joy: for she can so inform
      The mind that is within us, so impress
      With quietness and beauty, and so feed
      With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
      Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
      Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all                    130
      The dreary intercourse of daily life,
      Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
      Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
      Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
      Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
      And let the misty mountain-winds be free
      To blow against thee: and, in after years,
      When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
      Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
      Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,                       140
      Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
      For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
      If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
      Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
      Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
      And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance--
      If I should be where I no more can hear
      Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
      Of past existence--wilt thou then forget
      That on the banks of this delightful stream                    150
      We stood together; and that I, so long
      A worshipper of Nature, hither came
      Unwearied in that service: rather say
      With warmer love--oh! with far deeper zeal
      Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
      That after many wanderings, many years
      Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
      And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
      More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!

Tonight I wish...

8 Days, not counting the hours left today until I sleep.

Meh

I wrote this a couple of days ago.  I'm actually feeling happier today, which is good.

***

I am sad tonight, for no reason whatsoever (freaking hormones).  And I hate that.  And there is no way that I can think of to make myself feel better.  I just have to endure.  I am getting tired of enduring, of waiting, of patience.  I am getting tired of accepting that this is the way things are right now.  I am tired of all the crap in my friends' lives.  I am tired of my mind being fuzzy and not focusing.  I am tired of fear.  I am tired of being tired all the time.  I am sick of it all.  And I am sick of my coping mechanisms.  How I take my feelings, my tiredness to books and stories instead of to God.  I seek healing and life but settle for numbness.  I run away instead of engaging.  And I am so sick of it, and so sick of watching myself make decisions that I know are bad ideas, but which I have too little self-control to not make.

God!  I need you.  So much.  I am so inadequate.

***



9 days

Feeling Better

Sometimes, you think you need sleep, but what you really need is God.

God is good.

What is motivation, and where can I download some?

I am sitting here, staring at my computer, knowing what I need to do before tomorrow, and unable to summon any motivation to do it.  At all.

And I am sad, oppressed by a meaningless sadness that has no actual cause other than some stupid chemicals produced by my body going out of whack for a couple of days.

I freaking hate hormones.

Especially because I know that what I am feeling is a lie, and yet I still cannot summon up happiness or motivation.  I am still slouching here, my face slack and my eyes sad.

10 days.

Hang On, by Guster

Hang On :
Here we are inside a novel
Waiting for an end
We don't know the authors of the book
Maybe someone's writing chapters
For us while we sleep
From a million miles away

Stuck without a captain or a chart
No one seems to know just who to follow anymore
Hang on
Hang on
There's a twilight
A nighttime and a dawn
Who knows
How long
Just hang on
Hang on

If we fell inside a forest
Would it make a sound
Doesn't seem there's anyone around
Days are long and carry on
We still don't understand
We're a million miles away 

Stuck without a captain or a chart
No one seems to know just who to follow anymore
Hang on
Hang on
There's a twilight
A nighttime and a dawn
Who knows
How long
Just hang on
Hang on

Hang on
Hang on
When all is shattered
When all your hope is gone
Who knows
How long
There is a twilight
A nighttime and a dawn

We break
We bend
Hold my hand
Pretend
When your hope is gone
Just hang on
Hang on

13 days

Homework schmomework

I seem to be having trouble with my homework.  See, I know that I need to do it for tomorrow.  I know that.  And yet I cannot seem to make myself get up off my behind and actually work on it.  I did look at it, went "My brain doesn't want to" and then I didn't do it.  There is just so much more interesting and fun and amusing and great things to be doing.  Life demands to be lived, not filled with things I don't care about.  And yet I don't seem to be doing those great things instead of doing things I don't care about.

15 days

"You know some days are aces, and some days are faces, Well some days are twos and threes."

Paper writing, etc.

So even though I'm in the middle of writing a paper, I'm actually in a pretty good mood right now.  I'm wondering if my mood of death for the past couple of days has been partially caused by dread of writing this paper, and now that I'm actually doing it, I feel better.  I mean, there are obviously other reasons as well (more deaths in the past week, Alyssa's grandma and Lisa's great uncle), but I'm thinking that the paper actually had a larger impact than I thought.  Also the presentation I have to give in a week and a half, but now that I've seen a couple of my classmates do theirs, I feel better.  So yeah.  I'm actually kind of happy right now.  All those shenanigans on facebook didn't hurt, even though I didn't participate in them because I was writing this paper.  And I'm coming home tomorrow to see you lovelies!

Also, because patterns in numbers make me happy, there have been 2323 page views on this blog, and I've written 432 posts :)

It's been one of those days

Except I'm both Calvin and his parents.  If that made sense.  I'm exhausted and at some point you need to know when to give up.  I'm going to bed now, and hopefully things will be better in the morning.

Yeah...

Time. Ahh, time.

Waiting for things to come
Waiting for days and minutes and hours.
Sometimes I feel like my whole life is waiting.
Waiting for the bus,
waiting for class,
waiting for a reply,
waiting for my appetite to come back,
waiting for sleep,
waiting for my emotions to settle
waiting for you
waiting for me.
One would think that all of my busyness would fill up this empty time spent waiting.
It doesn't.
And so I wait.
For rest
For summer
For you
and for me.

I don't even know what normal feels like anymore.

Reading you

I have trouble reading you sometimes
When we're on the phone
and you're quiet
and I've had a hard week
and my people energy is low.
I have trouble communicating sometimes,
or at least I feel as if I do
my words shrivel up
turn into empty husks
with no meat, no meaning, inside.
But even in the midst of such trouble
such internal difficulties,
if I can make you laugh,
I know that you're going to be all right.
And if you're going to be all right,
then I know that I'm going to be all right too.