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I slept for twelve hours last night. God, did I need it. I haven't slept that long or that late in a long, long time. It felt really, really good. I have a feeling I'm in store for another sleep-a-thon tonight, though I am getting up early tomorrow. I need to get back into my routine and start doing some serious work.
Seeing my friends last night was...odd. The dynamic is [obviously] very different from my friends at Purchase, but amazingly the same from back in high school. It's strange how so many things can change and yet still remain achingly, frustratingly the same. I sat there half-expecting to see my 17-year old self walk into the room - well, she would strut - in some skimpy outfit pining over one of the boys in the room and trying to both broadcast and hide that fact. It was kind of surreal.
And fake. It all felt fake. It always felt fake, but now I can recognize that's what it is. We didn't all get along, it wasn't all sunshine and roses like I thought it was back then. Maybe I'll have that realization again in a few years about college. What a tragic thought.
We didn't all like each other. We pretended we got along, but everyone knew better. High school was a battlefield where everyone lived but body parts still lay strewn in the hallowed halls of WAJ Central. We weren't friends forever. We were friends by convenience. We were friends because we grew up together. We were friends because we had no choice, and by the time we did it was too hard to break away, so we chose the easy path. The fake path.
Not that I don't cherish certain friendships. What's sad is how those too have morphed into things I no longer really recognize or relate to. Our conversations are all anecdotes on how very different we all are now. And yet, even those differences are rooted in the creatures we were before, so there's similarities and familiar glances and inside jokes that don't go away, just get hidden and forgotten and lost in the recesses of locker clusters and the hideous blue walls of the senior lounge.
So those awkward silences don't last too long, and there's something about being with people who knew you back when that is comforting in the way old slippers that are falling apart at the seams are.
It's funny, I keep referring to everyone as different, but I think that's a lie. A lie to comfort myself about the fact that everyone is still the same. Even I'm still inherently the same. My relationship with Adam has echoes of Mike, Brian, and Derrick clinging to its coattails. I worry that I will never grow out of this abhorrent adoration/fascination with men because I think one day it's really going to destroy me.
The boys last night....they were all the same. They seem older, they've grown into their faces and bodies, but they still laugh at racist jokes and think they're god's gift to the world.
I think high school prepares you for the real world with its pettiness and competition, and college is where you find the friends that will get you through it. A good chunk of my friends are writers. A bigger chunk are male.
Maybe this is all in my head. Maybe I've always been the outsider and now I'm really understanding it. Maybe I'm a snobby bitch who thinks she's better than everyone. Maybe maybe maybe.
Last night was the first time in a long time I've even wanted to see any of those people. Usually when I'm home, I immerse myself in a bubble of self-pity and depression, counting the seconds until I can go back to school. This relaxation is new. Maybe because I know this is my last Christmas vacation. The next five months are going to go by in a blink and some empty beer cans. I've had school for as long as I can remember.
It was snowing today when I woke up. I had five hours of daylight. It is 5:17 and pitch black outside. This is why I need to get up early. I crave the light. I'm like a plant. Photosynthesize me, baby.
I should take pictures of my new hair color. I don't think I like it. It's too orangey-yellow. I want it lighter.
Must remember to call Jimmy.
Return of the King the extended edition came in the mail. Now, I can usually sit for a movie and be absorbed and all that, but 4 and a half hours is pushing it, even for me. This had better fill in all those plot points I had problems with, or Peter Jackson will not be the genius everyone makes him out to be.
I have the Office and Coupling, but we don't get Cartoon Network so no Family Guy/Aqua Teen. This does not make me smile.
not anyone i really know
just another pilot down
I want Tori's book. Right now. She saves my life every time I listen to her. I blasted her Toledo show all the way home. I can't wait to see her live at the 92nd Street Y in February. I'm in the fourth row.
It is very hard to try and eat well while I'm home. Tonight? Chinese food. Maybe I'll go food shopping tomorrow. Get some yogurt and soup and veggies.
This post has spiraled down into dribble.
Seeing my friends last night was...odd. The dynamic is [obviously] very different from my friends at Purchase, but amazingly the same from back in high school. It's strange how so many things can change and yet still remain achingly, frustratingly the same. I sat there half-expecting to see my 17-year old self walk into the room - well, she would strut - in some skimpy outfit pining over one of the boys in the room and trying to both broadcast and hide that fact. It was kind of surreal.
And fake. It all felt fake. It always felt fake, but now I can recognize that's what it is. We didn't all get along, it wasn't all sunshine and roses like I thought it was back then. Maybe I'll have that realization again in a few years about college. What a tragic thought.
We didn't all like each other. We pretended we got along, but everyone knew better. High school was a battlefield where everyone lived but body parts still lay strewn in the hallowed halls of WAJ Central. We weren't friends forever. We were friends by convenience. We were friends because we grew up together. We were friends because we had no choice, and by the time we did it was too hard to break away, so we chose the easy path. The fake path.
Not that I don't cherish certain friendships. What's sad is how those too have morphed into things I no longer really recognize or relate to. Our conversations are all anecdotes on how very different we all are now. And yet, even those differences are rooted in the creatures we were before, so there's similarities and familiar glances and inside jokes that don't go away, just get hidden and forgotten and lost in the recesses of locker clusters and the hideous blue walls of the senior lounge.
So those awkward silences don't last too long, and there's something about being with people who knew you back when that is comforting in the way old slippers that are falling apart at the seams are.
It's funny, I keep referring to everyone as different, but I think that's a lie. A lie to comfort myself about the fact that everyone is still the same. Even I'm still inherently the same. My relationship with Adam has echoes of Mike, Brian, and Derrick clinging to its coattails. I worry that I will never grow out of this abhorrent adoration/fascination with men because I think one day it's really going to destroy me.
The boys last night....they were all the same. They seem older, they've grown into their faces and bodies, but they still laugh at racist jokes and think they're god's gift to the world.
I think high school prepares you for the real world with its pettiness and competition, and college is where you find the friends that will get you through it. A good chunk of my friends are writers. A bigger chunk are male.
Maybe this is all in my head. Maybe I've always been the outsider and now I'm really understanding it. Maybe I'm a snobby bitch who thinks she's better than everyone. Maybe maybe maybe.
Last night was the first time in a long time I've even wanted to see any of those people. Usually when I'm home, I immerse myself in a bubble of self-pity and depression, counting the seconds until I can go back to school. This relaxation is new. Maybe because I know this is my last Christmas vacation. The next five months are going to go by in a blink and some empty beer cans. I've had school for as long as I can remember.
It was snowing today when I woke up. I had five hours of daylight. It is 5:17 and pitch black outside. This is why I need to get up early. I crave the light. I'm like a plant. Photosynthesize me, baby.
I should take pictures of my new hair color. I don't think I like it. It's too orangey-yellow. I want it lighter.
Must remember to call Jimmy.
Return of the King the extended edition came in the mail. Now, I can usually sit for a movie and be absorbed and all that, but 4 and a half hours is pushing it, even for me. This had better fill in all those plot points I had problems with, or Peter Jackson will not be the genius everyone makes him out to be.
I have the Office and Coupling, but we don't get Cartoon Network so no Family Guy/Aqua Teen. This does not make me smile.
not anyone i really know
just another pilot down
I want Tori's book. Right now. She saves my life every time I listen to her. I blasted her Toledo show all the way home. I can't wait to see her live at the 92nd Street Y in February. I'm in the fourth row.
It is very hard to try and eat well while I'm home. Tonight? Chinese food. Maybe I'll go food shopping tomorrow. Get some yogurt and soup and veggies.
This post has spiraled down into dribble.
