if i could be sweet

Kailee and I are going for a walk. This isn't significant. This happens almost every day. but I'm trying to walk the line between daily writings and things that make sense and mean something to me, and it's kind of hard place to fit between. This week has felt like a century. Partly because of feeling alone, partly because of living under siege, partly because uninterrupted anger for three weeks is bound to get someone down eventually. I lose my anger very quickly, and my memory is so short. This has enabled my survival and yet also hinders my productivity for the future. Please, I'll never tell you why you're wrong. There are so many reasons. I don't think I have it in me to change people, that's not my job, and has never been.
There's just a feeling in my stomach that things still aren't right here, maybe this is mostly because I miss sophie, or maybe this is just me being unable to speak up yet again. I don't know. I wouldn't publish this post, except it's been over half the month without a word from me, and i thought maybe this blog was getting lonely.

since you've been gone

I haven't worn my ring in two days. It's not like I am married, it's not like this ring means anything to anyone but me. But i was looking for it so many times, i kept going to pull it off to flip it around and turn it over, and I couldn't.
I keep thinking about becoming a teacher. I don't know if this is me, chickening out, signing off from the world of things that make no sense to me or if this is really what I want to do. I'd like to go someplace small, with a few close friends maybe, in the woods in the middle of nowhere and be able to figure it out.

For now, though, i am waiting. I am waiting for the right thing to jump at me and scream for me to notice it.
I am vaguely sure this is not the way to go about doing things.

People can stand outside all they want, looking in, telling me what's wrong. That's not going to do a thing to change me.

Our apartment is approximately seventy five degrees and sunny all day and night long. You think i might welcome this in the early winter months of boston. It's awful. I fall asleep lightly, uncomfortably, sweating with chills from the freezing breeze of my window. I hardly sleep, I have crazy dreams, too much is happening and I am always anxious. I don't know if this is just me, missing deadlines, failing at all sides of every equation or if I am just reacting to the heat. It must be...

I just finished reading Margaret Atwood's The Tent. I am not sure if it was academically well received or even noticed by any community other than the one inside my head, but it sounded a lot like something written close to my heart. Kyle asked me to read to him from my journal, and I refused. I think it's strange that nobody keeps journals. Why is that? How do people go for so long without keeping documents of their daily inquiries? All of my favorite journals have been chronicle books. They did give me a dud once, for which I wholly blame the journal.Though my grandmother died at the beginning of last year, and I am vaguely sure she is responsible for the many strange events that occurred thereafter.
Here is a list of the number of things I lost this year:
a room key
a student id
about six assorted socks from different pairs, creating about six pairs of unsightly un-matching socks
a digital camera
some lofty air-headed goals
my best friend, for a while
my roommates
concentration, sight, vision, direction

Or maybe this is all just the city, this black wormhole of a city. I still think it was the ghost of my dead grandmother, and I'm somehow sure this is all a strange sort of retribution.

Today I watched the boys next door clean their t.v. Well it was one boy. He was very avid about it. Neat lines.

Do you see what this city is doing to me? But where else is there to go? College is the one choice you get with no strings attached. And now it's all me, and there are a million strings, and I can't even open my eyes to decide.

here is the thing they do not tell you:
a long-term side effect is that you might always feel you are outside the room you are standing in. There is nothing you can do to eliminate this feeling, except maybe find others who feel the same way, so you can both stand outside and look in at yourselves looking out.

she leaves through the window, of course she leaves through the window

Last night I saw John K. Samson, and I swear, every time I see him it makes me want to do insane things. I stand there with my mouth wide open and my hands clasped in front of me, he is my elvis and I am his 1950's poodle-skirted teeny bopper. The Weakerthans have been one of my favorite bands since high school and even after their lackadaisical recent album, I am still a devoted fan. Granted the night was strange, seeing Harry and Justin and Bunky in the same place makes me feel like all these different parts of my life are coming together, only haphazardly and too fast. There are x's on my hands to signify my youth. I stole a wristband anyway, or rather, was given one by Harry who slipped his off his wrist.
There are few reasons why I love boston, one of them being that I am actually given the opportunity to see great things if I really want to see them. My life here has been strange, and I always feel like I'm swimming against the tide, but I don't think I would be satisfied any where else. I would always wonder what it would have been like if I had actually gone to Boston, which was where my heart really wanted to go. My heart. How did I get so melodramatic? Am I the only person who makes decisions solely based on what her heart is saying? When did a heart grow a mouth and learn to speak?
The band that opened for the Weakerthans was a group called The Last Town Chorus. It included an adorable girl from Brooklyn and a nerdy sidekick from Sleepy Hollow, NY (represent!). They made me happy, because they seemed real. After the show, the girl stood outside and waved at everyone and everyone walked past her because nobody realized she was the one they were all swooning over not two hours before. But Justin noticed her, and Harry, and they both talked to her so I gathered all my courage and my samson-inspired hopefulness and ran up to her like a psychopath: Do you remember meeting a boy in colorado? You called him adorable? He told me and asked me to ask you but you don't remember, it's okay, he's my friend. You were great!
To which she grabbed my hand, and kissed it, and said "We'll meet again some day." I think she might have misinterpreted me, but i am still grateful for her response to my weak-hearted weepiness.
My parents visited last weekend and it made me unusually happy. Usually after their visits I am disgruntled and grumbling about the many inconsiderate things they had done. I don't know why I do this. I do miss them an awful lot, and think they are unnecessarily proud of me, and I am happy to be able to provide them with something to be unnecessarily proud of. I still feel like I'm doing nothing though, I still feel like I am treading water that is too deep. I thought that would change drastically this year, but lo and behold, with one rejection i am back on the cutting room floor trying to remember what it was in high school that made me so love my school work, so obedient, and so untouchable.
I would like to remake friends with friends I have lost touch with. I understand that sometimes it just isn't in the cards for people, but this always ends up upsetting me. Kyle, I would not have spent six years of my life pining over you if it was all for naught. I don't know why you don't see the end of this tunnel, and I think you are misinterpreting the things I am saying to you. You're right, there are things I will not ever understand. But I understand you, and I understand how I feel about you, and how that is never going to change. If I lose touch with you, i think i will lose everything. I know that's dramatic, but I'm just saying.
I talked to Karlo tonight for an hour. I think he just checks in every few months to renew our friend contract and make sure he is still in my wedding. There is a point of glory in every boy's life... I'm afraid that might be his. But it always makes me happy to hear from him because it reminds me that some people are just going to be in my life forever, no matter if it's a phone call three times a year or if I see them every day. My feelings towards friends don't change, apparently, there actually is something in me that is reliable. Something that lasts.