I keep reading blogs, websites and other such interfaces that friends or quasi friends have created and, to be perfectly honest, I am jealous. I think, "Well, I could do that" or "I've always wanted to do that" or "I'm definitely funnier than she is."
The deal is, these people are doing things. They are putting their prose out there and I, quite frankly, am not. Until now.
I'm going to stop freaking whining about wanting to write and just do it already. Also, I need to start making some room for myself to figure things out and keep it real. Like the guts-inside-out kind of real. I have about 1.5 more years of grad student-dom and I will be trying to resolve some things in myself and the world that simply won't be put to rest by a glass of wine and episode of Glee after a long day.
"Wherever you go, there you Are."
Sometimes I think I can run from things--from feelings and parts of myself I'd rather not acknowledge, much less confront. Things I thought I would outgrow but have, in fact, lingered as unwelcome visitors.
I seem to have a knack for turning potentially great experiences into burdensome ventures. Right now, I'm in an internship for school. It sounds great in theory. Work with parents in poor communities. Fight for education reform. Better our public schools. And, for some reason, I can't seem to connect with most of what I'm doing. Being hypercritical of everyone and everything certainly doesn't help matters.
Trust me, there is a lot to flesh out with this, but sleep calls loudly right now.
There's also a boy (there's always a boy). He dropped off the planet as of last week. Same song, different verse. What the hell is wrong with men? It's like they want to date a prop and not a real person. Heaven forbid we make them break a sweat to chase us.
Ok, I will stop now. I promise. But those were some good lines....
I'm back.
