Wait...asbestos?

Okay, so I haven't written in this for awhile but I have fairly good reason. Nothing has really been happening. I mean, stuff is happening but I suppose I'm having a bout of writer's block. Well, here's a basic breakdown I suppose.

So I went home this weekend. It was alright, but I'm still feeling that tug that I haven't completely made a transition. I know I shouldn't go home for awhile to really make the final cut off of "Going to College." But there some really good parts (FEFC can save my life), but there were also equally bad parts (burnt cookies...) and the bad parts made me realize I have a better chance of actually enjoying going home more if I do it less.

Also, I visited a group of friends that I knew in theatre and that are still in high school. We spent hours catching up and filling each other in and then it really hit me; I'm starting to forget the bad and miss the good. It happens a lot to me, actually. I block out all the horrendous things that might have happened and focus solely on the good parts that I liked. For high school, I thought that would be impossible because the two parts were too extreme. But I surprised myself by remember the fun parts of high school and long for those days again. I hope it's just a passing phase because I refuse to go back to Bowie.

Oh yeah, and Carson and I might have a moldy dorm room due to a leak from a constantly running toilet. UTSA Maintenance have proved to be less that perfect as they have taken 5 days to even come deal with it, even though we have pestered them to no end (yes, we dealt with it on our own). That's another fun little part of college, I suppose.

Ah, okay, I'm pretty sure the writer's block is still kicking, but I just wanted to write a little something so my blog doesn't feel abandoned or anything. When something actually interesting happens, I'll be sure to add a new post.

P.S. You are and always have been one of the most interesting parts of my life.

Je crois que je l'aim

Tonight a few friends and I went to go see a European Film Festival at the local movie theatre down the road. It was a free festival, but donations were going to the Red Cross to help with Hurricane Ike (which I gave money to, because I currently loathe that stupid hurricane). We watched two movies, one in French (title above) and an Italian one. They were both beautiful films, but they both made me a little sad, almost hesitant about liking them.

The reason for this inexplicable melancholy about silly movies is that I'm desperate to travel. I want to see every little bit of the world and I am finding it hard to wait to do it. Ever since I went to the UK last summer and probably even before that, I have been itching to see new places and experience everything. Watching those movies and seeing those cultures just made it almost unbearable that I am currently stuck in San Antonio, Texas. I know it's probably just adolescent impatience, but every time I am bored out of my mind, I daydream about hopping on a plane and heading anywhere, everywhere.

I know all that blah blah about how I will have plenty of time to travel when I'm older, but I'm still borderline hysterical for the need to stretch my legs in a place where I am so out of my element. I'm realizing now this completely contradicts my previous blog, but something about being an airplane ride away from where I live justifies it. Okay, this blog is becoming a little less structured than the rest, but it is getting late. Bottom line: I wish I had my passport right now to jet set to Brazil, Spain, Germany, Fiji, or anywhere else I've never been. I need to see the world and I want to see it now.

P.S. I want to travel the whole world with you

Blowin' In The Wind

So. New school week, new month, and new feelings. My sister came to visit me this weekend and we had a really good time, except for any time we tried to go anywhere, we got lost. Whether is was down the street or in the middle of downtown San Antonio, I could never wrap my head around my surroundings. I didn't like it.

Something that I learned about myself a long time ago is I am a big fan of familiarity. I love knowing exactly where I am and where I am going. Confusion is not my forte and whenever it is inevitable, I try to cope but find it harder each time. Unfortunately for me, being a college freshmen at a campus I don't know has me near drowning in confusion. But as I am constantly scrambling for everything, I find myself looking for something I know will always be there.

I always heard that as you get into your late teens, you generally start to lose your faith. For me, it's the reverse. Near the end of my high school days, I started attending a friend's church and found myself re-discovering my faith from my younger days. I discovered that my belief in God could make me happy in a way I had forgotten about a long time ago. Now, as I find myself as a tiny leaf just blowing on a branch of the tree of life (See Bob Dylan song title), I couldn't be more joyful that I have a constant companion when all seems lost as I wander around looking for classes. It doesn't seem like wandering, because I know He is gently guiding me. His love is something I can't and would never, ever want to shake. I've become too dependent on it.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is, I'm ready. I am ready for anything this giant school, huge population, and crazy city has prepared to hit me with. His love and never-ending hope has my back and I couldn't be more pleased to realize it will be that way forever. And even better, I 'm finding I can't wait for it all to happen.

P.S. I wouldn't know what I would do without you there to inspire me.

Hair stylists are always right.

So a week before I left for school I went to my sister's hair stylist, Carolyn, and we started talking about leaving home and college and she surprised me with a tidbit fact.

"Two weeks. If you can get through two weeks, you're good."

I laughed at the time and thought two weeks would be cake. Well, I cheated a little by going home this weekend, but I think it still counts as a two week rule and I'm free. But as the two weeks are coming to a close, I can feel it. The pressure in my chest, the strange dreams, and all the other signs that are telling me that I am missing someone or something. I'm somewhat of a connoisseur of missing things so I can read the signs quite easily. I feel this tug deep inside and I know that these next few days will be rough. But as much I see these signs, I know I have to ignore them that much more, and figure out how to just live with it.

I'm finding it easier to forgot these baby bouts of depression here. Maybe it's that I'm getting older or maybe because I have no other choice, but it's easier to push these sad thoughts away and just focus on the positives, like how much I love my Anthropology class. I know that everything will come together and the missing part will fade slightly (not completely, of course) . It's just, for now, I am appreciating the irony of how very right Carolyn was.

P.S. The hope of seeing you soon really helps, too.

Home again, home again, jiggity jigg

So first time I went home since I've been here. Well, it's really not that big a deal since I have only been in college for a week, but it was definitely an experience. It was a short trip, less than 48 hours, which was really enough time to make me realize that the house where my parents live isn't truly my home anymore. I mean, although it is in the summer and on holidays, my life there is basically finished. It's hard to admit, and as much as I would like to just sleep in my own bed every night, I can't. And I think I'm okay with that.

I missed my crappy little dorm so much more than I would have thought. I missed being in my own place of comfort, which is what the room I call my home has become for me. Of course, it was absolutely amazing seeing a few of the people I have been missing, but there was a new pull to get home to UTSA (wow, that feels weird to see actually written down) and continue this thing called college. But despite all of the surreal situations, I really liked going home. It was like visiting my childhood, if that makes sense.

P.S. It wasn't the same without you, though.

Free Energy!

So I figured out why I have this wacky love for English.

I was reading my syllabus for my Freshmen Comp. class during my hour and half break in between classes (maybe the scheduling isn't so great...) and I was studying up my grammar stuff and the teacher had explained the rules and saying how complicated and frustrating they were when it hit me:

English and I are basically the same person.

We both can be very fickle, the aforementioned frustrating and complicated; We both change constantly to a point where people just leave us alone completely; There are always so many variables to consider and we are equally confusing to most people. Bottom line: English and I are both a little crazy.

It was a nice kind of revelation, sitting in the on-campus Starbucks (sorry, sisters) and listening to my iPod. Made me that much more excited to go to my Freshmen Comp class tomorrow now that I fully understand this inexplicable passion for the English Language and everything that goes along with it.

P.S. I have Spoon perpetually stuck in my head.

Adam but more importantly Eve.

I feel like I should be bubbling with excitement on the night before my first day of school. I usually can't stand it, the anticipation and whatnot. But as I sit here, busy on the computer and everything, I find myself more...complacent. This feels right. I should be going to college, I should be in classes, doing things that interest me. I had dinner with a friend tonight and we were talking about the upcoming day, and I found myself saying the thought that has blocked me from excelling all of my "underclassmen days." Pointless rebellion towards the system was so strong that I refused to let myself do well. Yay for only hurting myself.

But this is different. I want to be here. I want to learn about biology and anthropology and all my other classes. I have started planning out how to study and little rewards for doing well (the rec center is a God-send). Note-taking seems to be one of the highlights. Soaking up information is like a light on the horizon to me now. I mean, it's dorky but I know that people reading this will appreciate this.

So here I am. Hands wrapped around a hot cup of tea, slightly impatient to get very started, but mostly an overwhelming peace at being at the right place in exactly the right time. It's nice, and pleasantly unfamiliar. I'm even excited to ride my new bike around campus and wobbly find my own way. Most of all, I want to jump without thinking about anything else except for the glorious plunge and the even better splash.

P.S. I hope you know why I'm doing this.