Why hello, ledge, I'm thinking I need some space from you.

To clarify last blogpost, ladies and gentleman, I'd like to say I don't hate Monmouth College. Truly, I don't. It's beautiful here and the people are pretty friendly, all things considered.

I'm just a freshman stuck in a brand new world and the future is creeping up on me. Existential crisis, a friend or two has called it. And now I'm wondering what I'm doing. Where am I going to end up?

But then, I finally calmed down. I talked to a few of my good friends. I talked to a professor. I'm stepping down from the ledge, so to speak. I guess it's just a typical part of life - and sometimes you hit it early, sometimes you don't. I typically hit things before everyone else. I'm not sure if this is one of those cases.

It's all baby steps, I suppose. Invite people over, talk to people you typically don't talk to, chill out in the library or the lounge or sorority house as opposed to your room. Give out your number if the person passes the creeper test or the bitch-you-don't-want-to-have-on-your-contacts-list. And just *be.*

It takes time, but I'll get there. I've got all this time, and don't have any time, all at once. That's beauty of living, isn't it? Not having a clue when it all ends. It kind of sucks because when the moment comes I imagine you feel pretty stupid about all the time you wasted…but that's just being human, really. I know I waste time. I feel pretty miserable sometimes. I think it's inevitable. I guess just try to live in the now, and don't sweat the small things. I hear people complain about the most retarded things, and it really makes me go, "huh? Quit being so negative."

Seriously, positivity is key. I have my moments, Lord knows, but at least I'm trying. And that's all I can do.

I don't know.

"and we'll climb up on the mountain, y'all, we'll let our voices ring, and those who've never tried it, they'll be the first to sing."

I don't know what I'm doing here.
What if I made a mistake? What if I picked the wrong college? What if it's not the college and it's just me? Maybe i'm just tired of being in school. I hate that it's "required" to graduate college to be successful. I hate being in school. I'm not learning anything important, and I can't imagine it's different anywhere else - private, public, wherever.

I seriously hate it. I hated it in high school. I don't hate it quite as much as I did then, but I still just look around sometimes and ask, "Why am I here? Why the hell am I here?"

Am I supposed to go on my own? I feel like the moment you lose your drive for education, you lose any value you may gain. I'm trying, I'm definitely taking steps to figure out what's wrong within, but sometimes I wonder if maybe I should just quit.
Give up.
Do something really different.
Scare myself.

But how do I do that? No one will help me. Hell, hardly anyone helps me now. I try to map out what I'd do if I actually did it, drop out of college, but I don't know. I'd be alone, and while I generally like my quiet time, I can't be alone for long. It bores me. It saddens me. Sometimes it angers me. But then, if I leave school and just go somewhere, anywhere, will that be any better?

Or am I just traveling the typical voyage of a college drop out, and never amount to anything? Wind up trapped somewhere? Be dead inside for the rest of my life?

My god. There would be no safety net. But what if I wind up finding out what I'm meant to do?
Or is it too soon?
But seriously…I don't know what I'm doing.

I just don't know anymore.

Get Mad. Sometimes. No, Really.

You ever read a book that randomly reminds you of a long-suppressed memory, and suddenly, something makes sense?

I'm reading a lot of books I've never read before for my Young Adult Lit class (English 180). One is 'The Skin I'm In.' Maybe you've read it - it's a junior high, elementary school-level book. It's about a black girl who is picked on mercilessly by everyone, yet affiliates herself with the worst girl of them all as a semi-sort of protection. Needless to say, I want to punch the bully in the face. And I want to shake some sense in Maleeka.

But I know it can't be done. Because I was there. I used to let someone pick on me, beat me up, do all sorts of nasty things - childish things, terrible things, things that hurt long after they happened, long after the wounds were inflicted. And there's only so much anyone else can do before enough is enough.

I never really got my 'enough is enough' moment. At least, if it did, I don't remember it. I fought back, but I was overpowered.

Now, there's no one that can push me around. I get mad. And I do something about it. So maybe all the childhood/adolescent trauma did something to me, something that can't be undone, something that many people try to protect kids from but, hell, it made me stronger. It made me fight.

I heard the click. Something finally fit in my mind, something small but really important to how I am. I always get mad when I read books where the protagonist is picked on. Whether they do something or not is not quite as relevant, although I usually keep telling them to do something. I mean, looking back, junior high was worse than high school because that was the only time I was bullied by multiple people. Now, well, let's just say those people are fuckin' losers. Never going to amount to anything, probably wind up dead in the next ten years, the whole nine yards. I could be wrong. Maybe they'll be the next dude of The Pursuit of Happyness, and in a way I hope I'm wrong, but I doubt I am.

Looking back, I see how ridiculous it is not to stand up for yourself. I mean, when you're a kid it's a big deal if you're different. Oh God, it is. But there's a difference between wanting to fit in, and taking every shit that is dumped on you like a patch of grass. There's a fine line. And I know how to walk it. So while I am prone to hitting people, it is because I am hard-wired that way, after letting someone physically assault me - I literally, sometimes, must hit back.

And now, some words of wisdom from the a guy who used to be a major eff-up:
"Don't ever take no shit off of anybody. I think that's the best piece of advice I ever got."-Johnny Depp

Soundtrack of My Life

So, to put off homework, which is something I should major in, here are the songs that would be on the soundtrack of my life. This is just for right now, my 18th year of existence - the one that would span my whole life is too much for me to chew on right now.

In a Small Town ~ Kenny Chesney
Like a Rock ~ Bob Seger
Enchanted, Sparks Fly ~ Taylor Swift
My Favorite Regret ~ Gigolo Aunts
Under Pressure ~ Queen feat. David Bowie
Don't Stop Believin' ~ Journey
Tell Me I'm a Wreck ~ Every Avenue
Only the Good Die Young, She's Always a Woman, Vienna ~ Billy Joel
Raise Your Glass, Who Knew ~ P!nk
Stand By Me ~ Ben E. King
Misery ~ Soul Asylum
Welcome to the Jungle ~ Guns n' Roses
Eye of the Tiger ~ Survivor
Scotty Doesn't Know ~ Lustra
Ready to Love Again ~ Lady Antebellum
The Engine Driver ~ The Decemberists
21 Guns ~ Green Day feat. American Idiot Cast
Lose Yourself ~ Eminem
Music is My Boyfriend ~ Skye Sweetem
I'll Make a Man Out of You ~ Mulan soundtrack
O Children ~ Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

What is brave to you?

What is bravery to you?

I'm scared of new people. I'm scared of never fitting in. I'm scared of time.

I go to a school over 150 miles away from my hometown. I know two people before I move here. I go to a classroom, and do not know a single face. I talk. I speak. I try to branch out. I take advantage of each moment.

Does that make me brave? I don't know. I think that just might be life. Thoughts, anyone?

Yrbooks R N

I got a text message from Mr. Steele. It's simple: 

Everyone was excited about it. Steelecat said it was gorgeous. They blew off anything important to talk about "how awesome it is." 

my book. 

It all paid off, and I can't wait to see it.

A meandering response to a ridiculous question

It's a question I was asked during a scholarship interview, and I found myself fumbling - I didn't know why at the time why this question in particular threw me off completely, but now I do: It's ridiculous. Here's the question:

"Where do you imagine yourself in 10 years?"

Let's put this in to context (at the time). I am 17, very nearly 18 years old. I'm a senior in high school. I'm still debating between colleges. I only know I want to be an English major because English is the only area I have had a chance to explore, discover I have an affinity for it, and most importantly love it. I have so many dreams I don't know which one I want to explore, or if they are even feasible at this point.

Here's a rundown of professions I have briefly or not-so-briefly entertained: a veterinarian, a fiction writer, a reporter, a literary editor, a newspaper/magazine editor, a contributing staff writer, a photographer, a stunt double, a screen writer, a special effects coordinator, an actress, a publishing mogul, a lawyer, a singer, a freelance writer, a musician.

Those are the ones that spring to mind anyway. And you know what? No matter how old you get, once you have a dream, it never completely lets you go. A part of you always yearns to be that, even if it's not possible, even if it's not probable, even if you have discovered something else you want more.

Most importantly is that I don't know what dreams will become attainable by careful planning. I don't which ones will be attainable when/if Fate intervenes. Say I audition for a play, and get a good part. A movie producer or an actor or something comes along and sees me and offers me a role in a movie, or gets me an agent. Becoming an actress seems very likely, no? But say, a year or two or more or less, I write a novel and manage to get it published. What do you know, a dream is accomplished, because I took a class or I finally disciplined myself into sitting down and forming a piece of publishable literature.

Or say I complete college and land a job at a publishing firm. Say that I become a newspaper writer/editor for the college newspaper and my resume builds up so I get a job for the Chicago Sun-Times.

Idon'tknow.

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Now that you see me, see what's in my head, tell me, how can I answer that? Explain to the interview in a few seconds what it just took me roughly five minutes to write? Time is money, very literally in this case. No way could I give a feasible answer except, I don't know. I don't know where I'm going to be because my life is still very much open to interpretation. It's an ambiguity.
(There you go, Professor Suda and Hale.)

In my eyes, that's a good thing. I would undoubtedly be very depressed if I knew exactly where my life was going to be in ten years, when I was only 17-18 years old. I don't want to know. I want to be happy. That's about all I can think of. And I think that's all I can feasibly imagine at this point.

It doesn't take Fate or careful planning to be happy. You just have to look at life, and be happy with what you see. The way I look at is this: if I don't know where my life is going to be, I have hope. And I am happy with that.