I've also been thinking and doing a lot recently.
I'm annoyed because the program I wanted to do over the summer in DC, which would have included an internship and two or three classes at Georgetown, the program which I spent the past week getting excited about and preparing my application for, I learned today will not transfer credits.
I fucking wasted my time, didn't I.
And I was excited, too.
It's like, you know, when you really really wanna eat Chipotle? You psyche yourself up all day to eat a burrito, you think about it constantly, the texture, the beans, the meat, the tortilla, all wrapped up in that simple foil, and you think about how it drips and falls apart all over the place but you don't give a shit because it tastes so damn good and you're so hungry? And then you're finally on your way to Chipotle and you're as excited as someone can possibly be to eat faux-Mexican food, only to realize that it's closed. It closed two hours ago. And you don't know where the next nearest Chipotle is, or if that one's even open, and you're too hungry to go looking.
It's kind of like that.
I suppose it's better I learned now than later, though. But would it be more crushing to be rejected by the university, or to be told before I even got a chance to try that it's not worth it? Guess I'll never know.
Man. The past few weeks/months, I have been pretty much every emotion ever.
It's Crazy Towne Village here.
This semester has been pretty much the definition of a transitional time of my life. Not necessarily fun transitions, but necessary ones nonetheless.
But I thought about it. When am I not in transition? Isn't transition just changing, which I'm constantly doing anyway? I always imagine my transitional period coming to an end, and I've become a person who has definitive beliefs and a life with direction and purpose and a career path. But even then I'll need to transition into something else, or I'll need to change my opinions when more information becomes available to me.
I decided that I don't like the idea of picking one political party to be a part of, mainly because everyone calls people who have different political beliefs than them stupid and ignorant and fucking hippies and racist monsters and I don't like the idea of being called any of that based on some beliefs I do and don't have. That, and I don't want to be forced to believe everything that one party believes. I feel obligated to when I do.
I can't decide if I like politics or not. I find it interesting and stupid at the same time. Which is weird.
I wish there was more than just family at home. I feel bad saying "just family," because I love seeing my family, I really do. But other than family, I really have nothing else left there. I have a shit job and a couple of people who know my name and face. I spend more time in front of the tv than doing anything else. It just feels counter productive being there, I'm wasting time. I almost feel guilty at times thinking about things I need to do at not-home and I get antsy.
But I miss my parents.
I love them so much.
And I can never express to them how much they mean to me.
Because feelings are hard for me to express directly to people. I have a tendency to fuck it up.
I embarrass myself a lot.
I can tell sometimes when people pity me for it. It saddens me more than the acts themselves.
I wish I could express myself better.
I wish I could be more artsy.
But art is so damn complicated sometimes.
I don't really find beauty in poetry or paintings or photos very often.
I find beauty in simplicity, and that's about it. Elegance, sometimes, but mostly just simplicity.
Simple pleasures for simple minds, I suppose.
I've been cutting a lot of people out of my life lately. In a way, I feel clean and less worried by it, but in another way, I feel lonely.
I guess it all comes with transition, though.
Do you ever look back at what you've just written, and realize that almost every sentence has "I" or "my" or "mine" written in it? Because I notice that pretty much every time I update.
Homer: Ever since you started therapy, all you can do is talk about yourself. Well what about me, Marge?
Marge: I just left my first session and I haven't even opened my mouth yet!
Homer: You see? You see? "I just left my first session and I haven't opened my mouth yet".
I remember that quote a lot.
...And I think I'm done now.