| Date: | 2006-05-17 12:42 |
| Subject: | Heavy... |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  contemplative |
Diary dearest,
So here I sit at a computer at Cheney, ready to spew forth thoughts onto the keyboard. And while one might wonder why "spew", it is pretty accurate. The thoughts seem to be causing me discomfort, and it will feel better to get them out. It's just the process of getting them threw my esophagus that will burn.
I have been attending the classes which are meant to prepare me to go to Ghana. The one class is taught by a very radical, communist/feminist. My only prior experience with feminism is with my dearest Emily, whose beliefs I can understand, though I somewhat doubt when she says "Amber, you're a feminist". This professor however is quite hard core, and I spent Monday and Tuesday on the defensive but today I'm too tired to hold up any walls. So I let them go, and she made me think.
We talked about the oppression of women. Not just in Africa, but the world over. "When the protector becomes the persecutor, where does the woman go?" And all I could think of was my mom, and how she came to me and I had nothing to offer to her. I thought of my dad...the anti-feminist. The stereotypical white male that we are being semi-brainwashed to hate. I can't hate him though, and he hurts to love, so where does that leave me? I added Dr. Register to my facebook yesterday, and he messaged back today (obviously an addict) telling me "Have fun in Ghana. We're all proud of you." Who is the "We". It is however enough that he is proud. But why is he proud? Why is my dad disappointed?
And oh the problems of the world that I could tell you about. Slavery, child labor, and the way the American government is screwing everyone over. I almost don't want to go on this trip anymore. I don't want to see the countries of the third world. I don't want to be greeted by school children I have to leave behind. I get to leave. They never will. And I wonder with three weeks of this stuff, how is it going to change me? Because I'm changing, whether or not I want to.
The lonely old men at Eat 'n Park already made me tear up...what now? This trip will destroy whatever sanity I have left. Already, I don't want a job. I want something more. I want to go against this ridiculous system, even if I'm the only one going.
But I'm not.
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Upon the manifestation of intelligible thoughts, I type in to my livejournal, as this is the place where I store such rarities. Besides this, Emily and myself are most likely the only eyes that gaze upon these pages, thus making it somewhat safer than xanga. Ah xanga...
Perhaps I am being self-centered...no, wait. I am being self-centered. I see my "many" high school friends who once had complaints about life in the collegiate world while I was ok to take off. Granted, I did apply to the peace corp, and they clung to high school, but my point is, at the time, I saw (2 of) them being whinny, crybabys. I was doing so good at the game of life. And now, it sort of feels as though I'm without a pawn, and they are cruising around the board, filling their car. I don't even have a pawn. What happened?
I wonder if perhaps some of my theories of how my own life was to pan out are actually true. Which, is actually a bit depressing. I did not want them to be true...but it seems to be how it is going.
I guess the point in all of this confusion is, I have to wonder, why? Why me? Isn't that the question everyone bitterly asks at some point in their life? But I'm upset that they are doing so well, and I have slipped. Sitting on the ground now, because I don't know where to go, I envy their new found confidences in life. What happened to mine??? Why am I stuck sitting on the ground. I was always the one who had it together. I can't keep it together anymore, and that's not so bad, except that I hate the fact that they are doing so well.
True thoughts. Terrible of me, I know. I am a terrible person. But I'm not even of the philosophy that if I suffer, all should suffer. But it's not fair.
Like the whinny three year old who doesn't get her way, I want to knock over the gameboard and go sulk for awhile. Maybe I'll do that.
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Apparently in my months of absence, my livejournal decided to renounce its lime green, fruity guise and instead
revert to what it once was...subtle colors with a cutie cartoon in a cape and mask, and a goat who shares my innermost emotions with those who happen to read. I am not mad at my friend (you can indeed have non-breathing friends) for the change in heart. As much as I enjoyed the senior recital of Emily K., I was greatly revitalized by the taking off of panty-hose and the putting on of sweats.
{Insert: I roll my eyes as in the hall I hear a certain professor chewing out a student for being late.
"You're late!"
"I'm not late...I was in class and you weren't there, you're late!"
"Just because I'm not there is no reason to leave class. Now you're making everyone late!"
So, my thoughts about this are, "why is his time more valuable?" One dares not enter a choir rehearsal for a cello, on account of the risks of being eaten alive in front of approximately 100 students, yet this same man interrupts lessons of actual worth daily. Where's the justice?}
I thought that I would update on account of taking a stint at AWOL. Whatever. I am back now, and perhaps I will have actual thoughts to fill the pages of this livejournal. Today, all I have is this; personal hygiene is something that was once at the very most top of my list. I would shower not once but rather twice in one day. However, I'm becoming closer to Laura Ingalls bathing habits...Besides this, my eyebrows are going to take over my face.
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Diary dearest,
Though finals bring about high tensions, and reduce the total number of hours of sleep I get (which, are already terribly limited), I know that though this week is a hellish existance, there will be a day that I miss even this.
I will come to miss those who I didn't know four years ago, yet now are woven in my life so tightly...it's funny how suffering and rejoicing at much of the same will bring you close to people.
I will miss my first apartment, and all the joys it has brought. I will miss joking with roommates and dancing and a bed to go to with someone who cares when the willies have been brought forth. For whatever the reason, it matters not that I'm 21 and should really be able to sleep alone...
I will miss much too much to list, and yet I know that the inevitable will come, and another chapter shall close.
What brought upon all of this missing? Sitting in the hall, breaking from piano, a certain professor walks up to me and asks how things are going. I answer in my sarcastic "Swell" and she laughs. I tell her that I can't memorize five meausures of the piece of music that is to be played Wednesday, but I'll somehow get it. She looks at me and says in a steady, reassuring voice "I have every confidence you will." Where does her confidence in me come from? Why does she urge me on, despite so much resistance? I'm not sure. Continuing the journey to her office that she had been on when she stopped to talk to me, she pauses once again and says "Don't kill yourself practicing." I will miss her...
Will there come a day when I am to be my own person and my own support? When I must look into the mirror and gain my own confidence? It's frightening, and I wish that forever, I could remain in Thursday at 11 with some of my favorite people in what has become my favorite place.
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Diary dearest,
on account of a fruity layout, I figured it was about time I update this thing. Perhaps I have strayed for such awhile because
as of late, my mind has been null and void of any intelligent ponderings...all of my mindless ramblings are posted to xanga (singingchicken88, for all who are interested) Life is stressful and I have to wonder, when do you get to that point? That point where you simply do not worry anymore, because you have somehow "arrived". Like any good movie, you knew of your arrival by the cheesy music in the background and the monumental task that you have against all odds accomplished. When does this happen in the real world?
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| Date: | 2005-10-15 23:22 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  energetic |
Diary dearest,
the entire element of life baffles me. Not so much the scientific aspect of it...I mean, I get it, we breath in, we breath out. But how is it that one moment, the world seems so shattered and the next you're soaking up a day. The past 24 hours have been glorious. I have come to the conclusion that I cannot become a recluse due to the fact that I need people. Whether it's a 16 year old brother of a boy who crushed me, calling to ask if I'm ok, or a friend who you're so unbelievably close with, you can say and do absolutely everything, and it's fine. (seriously, EVERYTHING) Or maybe it's an afternoon of sunshine and adventures in a car whose ceiling is the sky and the adventures stretch previous limitations. (illegal pumpkin patch? maybe) Or perchance a group of people who come together to march and play. I'm not sure what makes life so worthwhile right now, but I think my high comes from a mixture of these things.
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Sometimes, life sucks. How's that for deep?
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Diary dearest,
Today I acuired the knowledge that I am an anti(-)social historian...music major what? Ah well. At the very least, I no longer owe the university (which began as Carrier Seminary in 1867) $20 gagillion dollars. My question for whoever is in charge is this; should I have had $20 gagillion spare dollars simply in my pocket and paid this fictious debt, would anyone have been the wiser? The fact that I lodged a complaint and only then did they realize their mistake makes me wary. Contrary to the beliefs of one short professor, one should always question authority...or remain a British colony being unfairly taxed until the Brits just lose interest...of course, I have always felt that the Canadians are a step ahead of the game....Now I'm unsure. But any patriot should know where that title came from...patriot. It wasn't such a compliment in 1776. In fact, it was rather traitorous. But really kids, you should accept that which I give you as factual simply because I have a degree. Despite the fact that sometimes, even the greatest of teachers will put nine notes in a scale. Don't question this, but rather, pass it on. For those of you who cannot decipher sarcasm, do question. Everyone and everything. Since we're seriously being taxed without representation (or at least fair representation) once again, at least our forefathers died for something. Questions are good. Tires are bad. If you're not one Emily Fields, don't look too deeply into that last comment.
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Diary Dearest,
Today I conquered the world of technology. Not alone mind you. I still can't get "Tommy" to spit out onto the computer what I need, but that's why Emily and myself make such a fabulous team.
After this, I will venture to the office of the registrar and commit myself to no commitment, or credit-no record. What a concept; you either do well enough to get credit or poor enough that it's as though it never happened. Or Clarion could have a glitch in the computer system and you can do both at the same time. It doesn't look as though Tommy will be done before my shift is over.
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Diary dearest,
as I've broken ties with my other blog, this seems to be the blog of choice. Which, in actuality, is perfectly ok with me as this blog seems to be of a higher level of, well, everything. It's more classy. Today, I pondered why some people get so uppity when faced with the truth. Such as, "You know, music isn't exactly relevant to everyday living like math or English is." and the response is, "Hm", gives a glare and moves on. Anyway, kudos to Emily for sticking her neck out despite.
Sometimes, you know who your real friends are because they don't seem to mind in assisting to meet your basic needs...such as food. Forced anorexia is foiled by pasta bowel on a Friday. Today, the promise of salsa makes my head turn every time I hear someone at the door.
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Diary Dearest,
Such an adventure had I this weekend past! 'Twas simply wonderful. It began on Friday morning when I hopped in my little red car, and despite the wishes of the Faulhabers, drove to my mother's house. Now, I have been well informed where the consortings with my mother will lead me, yet I'm somehow skeptical that the gates of hell shall truly swallow me up for something so trivial. Anyhoo, so we load up one diesel powered truck and Ed, my future step-father, takes us to Hickory Creek campground just a few miles from Tidioute. On route, Ed told stories which made me laugh and smile and just enjoy the sunny day I had ahead of me. He looked over and said "Amber, you have a nice smile. Like your mom." The more time I spend with this man, the more I actually WANT him as a step-father. He's yet to say a harsh word to me...so unlike my unstep-father.
We get to camp (by driving forever in the woods) and I wonder how on earth a camper and horse trailer were able to squeeze in among the trees. We truly were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the woods. A bit from where our campground was, there was a bus, and remnants of a tent, and just a bunch of junk from a campsite long forgotten. It appeared as if the people just stood up and left...or worse. I didn't think much of it though as my mother's friends and daughters soon arrived for what is said to become the annual mother/daughter/horsies weekend. There was Patty who instead of bringing a mother or daughter brought Mary, a wonderfully sweet older lady who knew the secrets of cooking and good storytelling. Patty herself was wonderfully "rough around the edges". She said everything she thought. Everything. And she made sure these thoughts had just the right amount of curse words. She asked me how old I was and when I said 20, she mentioned that she thought I was 12. When I asked why she said that I "exude innocence". Oh. I do believe the woman has seen a lot in her life. Then there was Penny who brought her step-daughter Faith. Faith was only 15, but she seemed much, much older. Three summers ago, she and my sister had been friends, and she's wisened so much since then, I didn't recognize her at first. I dare say we became good friends. Actually, we became cousins, as I adopted her step-mom Penny as my own Aunt Penny because she was so wonderful. The woman was the right mix of all the good qualities. Like, she knew how to be very motherly, but also how to have fun, as she was the one who led an expedition to that abandoned campsite I spoke of earlier. Her sister-in-law Nora and her daughter Lauren were also there. Lauren was 16, and rather quiet, but you could tell she was thinking a lot. Nora was the opposite. And then there was Chris, whose daughter is much too young for campouts. However, she is one of my mother's very very good friends. And so, she's heard how well my father and I get along. And she offered me a room in her house. She doesn't even know me.
So we rode all weekend in the Allegheny National Forest. We even got lost on Saturday. It was wonderfully fun. At night, you would sit around the fire and be surrounded by nothing but trees and you would ponder just how small you really are.
Ed picked us up and we went back to my mother's where before I headed to Waterford, Ed took us for a ride as I had been pestering my mother all weekend to allow me to ride bare-back. She didn't want me to, but Ed said I'd be ok and so he hoisted me up on his horse Red who is wider than my horse Rupert and he and my mom and me and Ed's grandson Calvin went off riding. Bareback is so strange if you've never done it...your sense of balance is thrown off without a saddle and stirrups. I was doing ok, even trotting a bit, when a porcupine spooked the horses. Mine reared up and took off at a run leaving me to grasp for any bit of mane my fingers could find. Gaining some balance, I stopped my horse where Ed comes riding up going "Are you all right? Are you all right?" I just laughed and laughed because I was. He started laughing too and said, "I thought for sure you were going off the back end of that horse." I didn't tell him that as my horse was spooking, I thought the same thing.
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| Date: | 2005-05-12 12:12 |
| Subject: | Hey... |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  giddy |
Diary Dearest,
One word has sent me from looking at life with a sort of "take it or leave it" attitude to wanting to live so desperately I can feel it in my toes. What wondrous word made its way to my ears? "Hey" and only one ear as I was on the phone when I heard it. I called one boy James, who recently professed I am the greatest person on earth...aww, and as he lives two hours behind me, it was only 9:30 am. As it's summer, he was still asleep. I figured this when he picked up the phone and it took him a minute of phone fumbling and voice clearing. And then, in a way that I cannot describe, he says "hey". All I want in the whole world is for that first "hey" someday to be mine alone forever. Someday, I want to wake up next to sleepy boy and wait for my "hey". I don't even care WHERE we wake up...it could be a box. I just want to be with him... I want this so badly, that I'm willing to wait to see what happens with our different time zones, waiting for vows, severe differences in politics lives. I could dance and sing in the streets with the love that fills every inch of my being. However, I live on a dirt road and would only get rocks in my shoes.
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Diary Dearest,
Well, today I got my final math grade. A 62%=failing. Well, at least I can do SOME math. And at least I can tell Billy "I told you so", though I think I would have preferred for him to have been right. I rather would have the correct pronunciation of Tcherpnin. Ah well, life is funny like that.
Seems that a Grey Hound bus ticket to New Mexico is only $162 dollars...though, that is just a one way ticket. Which is what I would want. Someone should let my subconscious in on that. Last night, it gave me the dream of making out with a girl. I only kissed her though because she was going to kill me if I didn't. Wait, no...I rubed her feet for her because she was going to kill me if I didn't. And then she kissed me. Analyze that one if you will. I don't know.
I don't know where I want to be right now. Not in Clarion, though I miss my Clarion friends. Not here. New Mexico. I should just do it. I should just go buy a ticket. Or finish the beer I stole from my fridge and go to bed. I've always enjoyed the smell of beer, but somehow, the taste is never what I hope for. I think this is one can that will not be emptied.
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| Date: | 2005-05-08 20:29 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  melancholy |
Diary Dearest,
I know now as I try to cram two decades of gathered material into one small allotted corner of a room which once belonged to me, there is no redemption. At least not here. Whatever it is I did will eternally be refused forgiveness from those who share my blood; I thought that blood was supposed to be thicker than water, and yet, it is water who has shown me what love is. Those not my family have been the ones to nurture me, to support me, to encourage me. This thought came to me when I was told that I must be home for a graduation party given in honor of my brother. Maybe it's trite of me, but I think back to my own graduation and wonder "where's my party?" Then I remember, it was my church choir, water, who made sure that rite of passage was taken care of. I look at the senior picture of my brother sitting on my piano and remember that it was Mrs. D, water, who made sure that the monumental things of my senior year were documented on film. Looking at my siblings, I'm a bit jealous that they have such strong ties to their blood, but at the same time, I'm very grateful for the water that has kept me going. I pack up the elements of my life that are not necesary for survival and take them to the closet my mother has so willingly provided for me. I stroke the dolls and pictures and memories that I will not see again for a long time; I know they will sit until I "settle down" and have a house of my own that I can fill with stuff. All of my stuff can be out and among me; my life will no longer be shoved into a corner. Right now I'm living the Cinderella lifestyle...I wonder if I'll get the same ending she did. God I want a fairy-tale ending.
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Diary dearest,
Questions of "ready?" bring nervous giggles and uneasy fidgeting as if this one were THE TEST; pass or fail life 101. Did you study? Only about sixty-eleventy hours...I breath in academics. I have no life. I need the A's to be higher. What is success to the one who never fails? I don't know. I fail math. Who came up with this idea of "finals"? Just the word...final. This is final, your grade, your life...you better stay on top of things. This is dumb. I quit to be a migrant worker. Too bad they don't have a category for that on facebook...
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flabenhaben's journal
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