My Eighteenth Post

I believe today is the first time I think I have actually been frightened by my laundry--but not for the reasons you might think. See, I had spent the last hour or so alone in my room cleaning, folding laundry, etc. Yet, when I sat down at my computer, my chair was warm, as if someone had just left after sitting for a while. I was really creeped out by this... until I realized that I had been stacking my freshly laundered towels on my desk chair. I had moved them so that I could sit down, and, since they had just been removed from the dryer a short while ago, they left the chair feeling warm. Mostly this is just an example of how paranoid I can be.

Another funny laundry story. I was downstairs doing my laundry when I realized that I really wanted to wash the bra that I was wearing. So, being the quick thinking person that I am, I removed it and tossed it into the washer with the rest of my clothes. This was a really odd thing for me to have done, and I was thinking about it as I went back upstairs to my apartment. By the time I had unlocked the door and walked into the hallway, I was laughing hysterically (don't ask me why... I really can't explain why I found it so funny). Anyway, my roommates demanded to know what I was laughing about. After repeating the story three times so that everyone could hear, we were all inexplicably in hysterics over the situation. Roommates are great. They make me feel like removing my bra in a semi-public place is a perfectly normal thing to do. Plus, I love laughing at silly things, especially if there's a whole group of us laughing.

So I went with H to see a performance of Machinal . It was a short play (it only lasted about half an hour), but it was very well done. It was an expressionist piece that tried to display the contrast between the main character the machine-like world around her. All of the other characters wore dark colors, and had this ever-present rhythm to their speech and movement. This provided a stark contrast to the main character who wore a lovely green dress and floated around barefoot. It really helped to set the scene for the story, which focused on finding freedom from the restraints of the world. Plus, it was free (always a good thing)! I really enjoyed it.

My Seventeenth Post

Monday, Monday...

This is my day:

I have to take a test today.
I have to go to work today.
I should go to class today.
I should do homework today.
I should do my laundry today
I want to read The Lovely Bones today.
I want to watch TV today.
I want to go to FHE today.

My Sixteenth Post

My eldest sister is pregnant. I just found out today. That is exciting news. She's 26, and this will be her third child. It makes me wonder how my life is going to work out. I visited my grandparents in Salt Lake yesterday, and my grandpa asked me if I was going to go on a mission. He caught me quite off guard. It's always been a possibility in my life, but I've never really allowed myself to think about how a it would actually fit into my life. If I went on a mission, I would leave next summer to live in some unknown place for a year and a half of my life. It would completely change the way I think my life will go. H has talked about wanting to go on a mission. She turns 21 this summer. B is also very adamant about wanting to go on a mission when she turns 21. I don't know. What if I get married before then? I sort of have a feeling that I'm not going to get married for several years at least, but I really don't know. After all, two of my former roommates (A and T) are engaged to guys they didn't know a year ago. They're both getting married this summer. It's not completely out of the realm of possibilities that I could meet somebody and get married in the next couple years. I guess I really don't know what I want. Except a new niece/nephew. I do want that. And now I'm going to get one! Yay!

My Fifteenth Post

So last night, I got a call from H.

Me: "Hello?"
H: (sounding distressed) "Hi, Can you come get me?"
Me: "Yeah, where are you?"

I love that I responded that way. A friend needed me, and instead of debating or questioning, my immediate reaction was to do what she needed. I hope I can nurture that quality in myself. Maybe it will help me to be a better friend to the people around me.

My Fourteenth Post

Maybe I'm just not smart enough. I actually think that would make me feel better. Then, it wouldn't be my fault. It would just be circumstantial, and I could console myself that I was doing the best that I can. But as it is, I know I have huge potential. I know I have the ability to be great. So I just have this massive guilt hanging on me for wasting my potential. I wish I was strong enough to make goals. I'm too afraid that if I make them, they'll be hard to keep. So I don't make them. If I don't have goals, I can't fail to reach them. Is all this crap really about fear? Could I make it all go away if I just buck up and put in some hard work? Of course I could. Which is why I feel so guilty for doing what I'm doing. Slacker.

My Thirteenth Post

Once upon a time there was a very lazy girl. She always put off things that she was supposed to do until the last minute. I've never seen such an advanced case of procrastination. Sometimes she didn't finish her tasks, but most of the time she did. Her work was seldom "top notch," but it was satisfactory for the most part, so she didn't let it bother her. She knew she had a problem, but she didn't do anything about it. Life was fine. Until one day, all that changed....

I don't know what happens next. It is unlikely that our heroine will change her ways without some sort of motivation, but I don't know where her motivation will come from. Will it be a good cause? Or a selfish one? Or will the change be forced upon her? In any case, I hope she finds her happily ever after soon. It's got to be stressful living from deadline to deadline, constantly feeling guilty about all the things she should be doing. Plus, one of these days, she's going to mess up big time. I'd hate to be around when that happens.

My Twelfth Post

I just did my laundry. It’s sitting in a laundry basket taunting me. You might be surprised at what it wants me to do. It’s telling me to dump it out onto my bed and take a nap on top of it. I know this would not be a rational thing to do. I should go and fold/hang it up. But it’s got that warm, clean, fresh-from-the-dryer quality right now. And it’s tempting me.

My Eleventh Post

I love spring! I could just go outside and people watch in this gorgeous weather for hours if I had the time. I like to people watch... especially if I'm close enough to do a little eavesdropping as well. I hear the most random and crazy things while listening to complete strangers. It's just a brief glimpse into the complexities of the life of another human being.

You know what I’ve realized? In high school, I never really talked about my friends behind their backs. Now, I'm constantly talking to my friends about our other friends when they're not around. This especially happens with H and C. Every time I'm alone with one of them, we inevitably talk about the other one. I've been trying to figure out why this is.

I think in high school most of us were somewhat insecure with ourselves and our place in the social sphere of that world. When we finally became comfortable enough to identify each other as friends, we wanted to keep those relationships as a safe haven against the numerous other unknowns of social relationships in high school. So we weren't catty-- if we were angry with a friend, we made it pretty clear, and we usually resolved the problem before the day was over.

But in college, a lot of our friendships develop because of circumstances: we live together, we work together, we have a class together. And there isn't time to develop a truly strong bond because the circumstances that put two people together change too quickly. These are those ambiguous friendships that we're never sure about. Because the circumstances demanded it, we became friends. There is no safe haven. So we become defensive and withdraw from committing ourselves to a situation in which we can get hurt. And our frustration and curiosity leads us to ask for others' opinions. So we talk about each other and try to analyze exactly how we fit together. If only I could just let go and accept people and give them the chance to accept me. If only, if only.

My Tenth Post

Thursdays are usually good days, except for one thing: they are almost without exception followed by Fridays. Fridays suck. I know some people enjoy them, because it means only one more day until the weekend. I loath them. They make my week miserable. They're like the Trojan horse in my week. They arrive each week shining with the promise of a relaxing weekend, and then, out of no where, all these problems surface which eat away at my weekend until there is nothing left! And the worst part is, I never learn! Every week I let myself believe that I just have to make it until Friday, and then I'm home free. And every week, Friday finds another way to catch me off guard, knock me over, and kick me while I'm down. Every week! You'd think I'd be ready for it, but I never seem to expect it. And that is why Fridays suck.

My Ninth Post

I made cookies today-- a whole batch. They turned out well, which was a big relief, since my chocolate chip cookies are rather finicky. Now I have to figure out what to do with them.

I also watched A Beautiful Mind today. It made me think about my life-- I will never be considered for the Nobel Prize. But I’ve come to terms with that; I'm sure I’ll have other accomplishments to show for my life. The problem with accomplishments is that they expire too soon. All of the hard work I did in high school is completely meaningless now. Who cares what I scored on my ACT or what my GPA was? Things that I did when I was 17 have no significance in my world now. I wish I could hang onto those things for just a little while longer. But, I guess it's better this way. Now I have to work hard in what I'm doing right now-- to try to achieve bigger and better things. Maybe I wouldn't be motivated to work for those things if my ego continued to be placated by my past accomplishments. Despite what I may pretend, I do a lot of things to receive recognition from others. That’s not the only reason I do things, but it certainly is a contributing factor. So I was right in saying that my ego motivates me. It’s constantly screaming for some proof that I’m superior to others in some way. And lately, it hasn’t been getting much proof. Oh well, just more motivation to do better.

I like the titles of my posts-- that I define each post as mine. I especially like the possessive quality of ‘my’ because it helps to remind me that I’m not writing for anyone else. This belongs to me, and only me. It's mine.