This’ll just be a short hodge-podge of things.

First, I want it known that it sucks to live with any kind of stomach problems. I’m happy for the rest of my health, I can deal with fighting to lose weight just like every other person in this world. But I can’t deal with being doubled over in pain because it feels like someone has poured hot lead into my intestines just because I ate something that wasn’t leafy green. It isn’t normal to endure such pain and try to move on with your day like everything’s fine, like you weren’t just trying to squeeze yourself into the most comfortable position just to make it through the next few minutes without moaning and shouting. The world needs to be more comfortable with talking about stomach problems.

Next, I’ve been working on that ex story some more, and it’s taking me through another wild ride of emotions. Sometimes reminiscent, other times infuriating. But I really enjoy writing it, and I’m not sure why. I’m not sure who I’ll dwell on the longest, but I would assume it will follow chronologically. I want to be able to share this one with the world, but it’s already 50 pages, and I don’t want to run into any lawsuits with the people I’m writing about. But hey maybe that’s the risk with dating a writer? Give me a good story and I’m going to write about you.

It’s making me miss a few people, one I never really let go of. The other one is really dangerous for me to miss, and I have to wonder whether or not I romanticize it. I know that I romanticize it, I guess I just wonder to what degree, whether it’s completely skewed or not. Side note, maybe I should date people that aren’t going to be dangerous for me to miss…

I’m burnt out from school, and I keep thinking about the days in elementary school that I think I reached a higher level of thinking, as if opening my crown chakra. I had moments that I questioned everything, and I mean everything. I would be running in from recess and think to myself why am I here? Why am I this brain? Why am I this body? That’s all we are, brains in bodies that somehow come from different walks of life, different situations. Why am I here right now in this brain with this body? And it happened all the time, like I was looking in a mirror and seeing a complete stranger, unattached to my body, unaffiliated. I’m not sure if that qualifies as an out of body experience.

I haven’t had one of those moments in a while, and I wonder what has changed. If I have been beaten and brainwashed by schooling, if I’m not as close to such spirituality because I have closed myself off to different religions. If that has blocked my crown chakra, and now it takes effort for me to consider not being this body, not being who I am. It’s very strange, and I wish I had more time to reflect on it, but right now my life is too busy.

I miss nature, as always. Yesterday I followed home the sun, taking the time to appreciate the steeples on campus, comparing them to the clustered spires of Frederick, and for the first time since orientation, I felt a connection to the campus. It was a nice change of pace from the constant resentment of being here in winter, seemingly putting my life on hold.

But I shouldn’t think that way, should I? My life’s already started. And I’m so close to having that degree and being able to do whatever I want afterward. If I still had three years or so to go, I’d probably rethink the whole thing. Do what I want now, go back to school later when I could afford it. Chad is always in my ear when I have those “I can’t wait to start my life” thoughts, because my life is already here. It’s helping me take the opportunities that arise in front of me (I spontaneously went to a concert with my friend on Tuesday and was in a mosh pit for the first time – very exciting opportunity that I’m glad I took).

I guess I should say that soon I will be able to take my life in the direction that I want. I will have more time for nature and reflection. I will have more time for myself. For yoga, for work, for exercise. I look forward to it and all the other days of my life, including tomorrow, should it come.

Cheers

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I Don’t Even Know the Question

What can I say about finals week… Sleep deprivation, I guess. Lots of anxiety. I might have heartburn? Who knows. But I’m ready to get the hell out, even if it’s only for 12 days.

So I’ve had this interesting dilemma. As you know, I like to write, and I’ve always hated reading and writing love stories that are entirely based around a relationship rather than some other major plot points (Nicholas Sparks doesn’t count as plot points, I’m sorry, he bugs me). In all, or at least most, of those love stories, you know who the person will or should end up with, if it works out yay if it doesn’t what a tragedy. Real life isn’t like that. There isn’t this be-all-end-all person that you know you should be with. Some people might like or dislike some of your romantic choices.

As someone who enjoys reflecting on her romantic choices, I had an idea. What if I wrote a book that had a realistic amount of love interests, something that took place over several years, and they all had their strengths and flaws, like regular human beings? I bet you different audiences would have different feelings about who the main character should end up with, and sometimes it’s powerful not pleasing everybody. Like I said, it’s realistic.

However, my dilemma. I have based my story, my characters almost entirely on my life story. Part of me wanted this, in a sadistic yet cathartic way. I enjoy romanticizing my relationships; it makes them more fun to miss. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how hard it might be to go through all of these old emotions.

It’s important to me as a writer to accurately describe when someone is devastated by a loss, to embody just how empty she may feel. Of course, as I draw from personal experiences, I draw from personal emotions, and I didn’t understand how hard that would be. It’s literally just feeling sorry for myself again, something I don’t enjoy doing very often. I think the book has turned more into a letter to my exes, which could be very dangerous.

I’m barely halfway through my first boyfriend, and I’ve had to hold back tears, something I never thought I would have to experience with him again. But I suppose that when you are truly attached to someone, when you genuinely loved them, those feelings are going to come back no matter what. Not in a meaningfully romantic way, just as a reminiscent nod to the past.

It also doesn’t help to write these emotional moments to this song, but I suppose both are rather beautiful experiences.

I’ll let you know whether or not the book is worth publishing. Perhaps it’ll just become a memoir. All I know is it feels good to write again, especially when it means reflecting on your past choices. Sometimes you catch something you missed the first time.

Love