Didn't Take Long

I understand, I fully comprehend and unfortunately agree.

In my gender communication class, we had to go around the room and introduce ourselves (lame, I know, but only a class of 25). I was one of the first people to go because I was sitting in the very front row like the pathetic nerd that I am. I said my piece, stating how much I love school and repeating twice that I do not want to graduate. This was met with groans and an address by almost every senior in the class that all they can think about is graduating. I shook my head in consternation but thought little about it.

Until Thursday.

It was the end of my first week of school, my very last first week but the first week nonetheless and I was exhausted, irritable, fighting with one of my closest friends over stupid drama, nutrition deprived because I couldn't find 20 minutes (or enough cash) to go to the grocery store, overwhelmed with work, and in desperate need to remember my senior year of high school Lit class.

In a word, I was done. I'm finally tired of the constant work and reading shoved down my throat daily, of the mindless acquaintances that the only thing we have in common is class, and of a thousand other things that come with being a student. I feel like I have 5 different jobs, all full time and equally demanding, with no payment. I'm finally ready to leave school. Shame I still have five months to change my mind.

Something that makes me lucky and what I feel like unlike those other people, is that I am unbelievably grateful for the past 3 and 1/2 years. Every single moment, every tired morning, every sleepless night was beyond worth it. I wouldn't change it for anything, this undergraduate life I've had. I am so blessed.

Anyway, here's the regular class break down.

Physical Fitness and Wellness:
-Fencing: is boring. But it's once a week and I might actually learn something. If I stop yawning enough to pay attention.
-Golf: SUCH A GOOD IDEA! Literally the definition of a blow off class. I'm so excited.

Film and Prose: Dystopian Fiction
-Yeah, I didn't know it was Dystopian when I signed up for it, but it's only to meet a grad requirement so I can show up. The professor is very Indian so I hear 3 out of 4 words correctly. I think.

Late Shakespeare:
-Again, a grad requirement class. However, the professor is like a cartoon character. I'm convinced he's a crack addict who just so happens to have memorized every single line of Shakespeare. Seriously, he's insane. Also, insanely smart and I've been needing to take a class like this forever. Shakespeare is the origin of all things literature.

Communication Research Methods:
-Needed for my major (do you see a trend here?) but actually kind of interesting. Very detail-oriented and all about answers. Plus, the professor is a great guy who loves me already. However, it is the bane of Comm Studies majors everywhere as it is notoriously the toughest class in the curriculum.

Gender Communications:
-Simply to fill a time slot. But there is some soap-opera-ness about it. One of my really close friends, a professor in the department, has major beef with the professor of this class. They used to be besties but now they can't stand each other, so I made it clear the first day I am a very good friend of my professor friend so the professor would get it. Got it?

Environmental Communications:
-It's a brand new class and taught by a professor whom I admire very much so I had no choice but to take it. Despite this, it might be the death of me. My admiration for this professor is because she's Mensa-level smart, funnier than anyone and does not take crap from anyone. AKA the recipe for the hardest class I have ever or will ever take. Should be a wild ride.

Between stress from my extracurriculars and taking more classes now than I did my senior year of high school, these last few months will be a test, perhaps the hardest one I've ever been through, but at the end of it, I'll have two degrees and a deep sense of fulfillment. That's worth it...right?

Resolve.

I often ask myself why I keep up with this blog, especially since it's more like an open letter to my mother. Obviously, I have an answer or else this would have kicked the bucket when my best friend literally laughed in my face when I had told her I was thinking about starting a blog. Despite having a place all my own on the internet besides social media sites, the truth is I enjoy having a chronological and detailed description of my college experience. My first post was the night before the first day of classes freshmen year and I am determined to have my last post be the night before graduation. It will be like a book for myself, that I can show my kids (although that probably won't happen) or look back on when I'm seventy and senile. Anyway, that's not the point of this post.

First off: my resolutions. I usually don't do resolutions because they're mostly something people stop three weeks into January. This is more something I want to do because it's good for me.

1. Improve my posture. Sometimes I sit or stand in the most awkward ways. I need a more grown up spinal position.
2. Stop biting my nails/ take better care of my nails. I've gotten in to the habit of painting them and removing/chipping off the polish within two days.
3. Be calmer. Between caffeine and being very excitable, I just need to chill the blank out.
4. Breathe deeply and often.
5. Take more pictures.
6.Write. Blogging is a wonderful reprieve and stress reliever so I've decided I want to start a mixed journal. Creative writing was fun and can be a surprising way to get out emotions and plus I want to express myself more than just over happy hour to friends.
7. Graduate well. I want to leave this school perfectly and happily.

I shudder constantly at the thought of graduating in May and am in complete denial about it. Graduation is in less than five months. Five months of running up and down the stairs in Centennial. Five months of throwing papers around my room in frustration. Five months of awkwardly meeting professors in their offices to challenge my grades. Five months of making friends over shared love or hate of classes. I love school, I love my majors, I love learning so much. I don't want to go to grad school, not yet and even if I do, it wouldn't be at Texas State. It is much harder than I thought it would to face leaving this ridiculously hilly but wonderful school. Everything is going to change and the hardest part is having absolutely no idea where to go from here. At least in high school, I have a definitive goal to achieve afterwards, but now...

Ugh, sorry, I'm somewhat having an existential crisis and I purely blame the fact that I am in desperate need to be back in classroom. Plus, as I said, blogging is cathartic. All I want right now is Tuesday. I love school.

I Am Terribly Lucky.

I know I've spun this kind of post before, but as the holidays fast approach, I just can't help myself. Explanation time.

I am terribly lucky. I am scarily blessed. I have a family, a family who loves me, who supports me, who knows me more than anyone ever has or will know me. They know my deepest regrets, my biggest flaws, my greatest triumphs and my proudest moments. They love me because of it, sometimes despite it.

There are people out there who are lonely and alone, whose holidays are nothing more than chance to catch up on TV, a chance to splurge on the good wine, a short break from work or responsibilities. I am beyond glad I am not one of those people. I have people to look forward to, all year every year that I love more than I thought I could love. I have people to make me laugh, to make me cry, to humble me, to remind me of my flaws (with the greatest of love, naturally). I have people to answer to, someone to call at 2 a.m. when no one else in the world would take my call. It gives me legitimate chills to think of the greatest people that make up my family.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I take it for granted, amidst a raging battle when no one will back down, when tempers flare and pride will not take leave. But then my heart swells and I remember that no matter what I do, I cannot talk them out of their love for me. Believe me, I've tried. Love is a rarity in this world, made small and unique by indifference and hate, so the fact that I have it, exponentially so, makes me the luckiest girl in the world. I get to have love, unconditionally, as long as I live. What did I do to deserve such a blessing?

We are all human, try as we might to persuade ourselves otherwise. My biggest fear is that they will forget, that my family will break and lose the love. Yes, I know, it is an irrational fear to the max, but one that occasionally gets me at my moments of weakness. Fortunately, I am young and have decades ahead to be proven wrong, with my family ever by my side.

I am frighteningly lucky and I would never, ever change that.

Deal With The Hand You're Dealt

Here's the thing.

Lately, I've gotten the sneaking suspicion that I am, in fact, not a nice person. Maybe I'm not sweet, maybe I'm not good. I've always thought my tough, sardonic outer person was hiding the sensitive, saccharine girl who I really am. The person I act like was merely a wall to keep others (friends, acquaintances, teachers, family, EVERYONE) from hurting me.

As it turns out, that might not be the case.

I'm beginning to think that the deadpan humor mixed with a certain amount of apathy towards the insane emotions of others (namely females, as it happens) has burned the sweetness out of me to the core.

Let me explain.

As I've no doubt mentioned, I'm the president of an organization this year, something I was looking so so forward to. I am a leader, I've been told this by countless people, and I am certain they are right, mostly because I am certain I am not a follower. As the semester goes on, though, I'm realizing I am much more Machiavellian than I ever realized. Ever since I realized the Prince had something with that whole fear over love thing, I never thought I would be the one to practice it. But there's something about watching a girl cry over something you said to her followed by not caring and glancing at the clock instead of blushing to really hit a point home.

Even with the other organizations and classes I'm involved in, I'm realizing I am much more the mumble a joke under her breath, role my eyes at the weaker followers and strive to hold a position of power type of person. Therefore, I'm attracted to those who are like me, cultivating many new friends, than those who I wanted to be like, the simpering fools who focus on their feelings than the constructive (and yes it's always constructive) criticism I just gave them. The bottom line is that I am not nice anymore, maybe I never was, but I know what is right and what is wrong, which is good enough for me, and at the very least, I am never, ever fake or untrue to who I am. Not anymore.

So I'm mean. I'm impatient. I'm what many would call a bitch. But, I get the job done and I do it well. That is something that can go on my resume.

Oh, Poor Atlas

I think, I think this is what it feels like to bite off more than you can chew. I do believe this is what being overwhelmed feels like. Hear me out.

It's become a night and day kind of deal that I'm emailing my officers, texting Student Foundation members, finishing papers, studying, endless studying, and searching for the ever evasive down time. I literally went to go pick up my roommate 20 minutes early the other day just so I could sit in my car by myself and do nothing. I know, it's weird, but this is what it's come to.

Classes are laughably impossible, extra-curriculars are starting to drown me and I drink so much coffee, my hands are always shaking. My advisor/professor/savior is constantly asking me if I'm okay because I seem a little stressed and I either manically laugh or just brush it off, depending on whether or not I'm looking at my to-do list.

Alright, whining aside, I think I really like this. Sure, I've tried to get out of every major events I've been asked to attend, I had to buy a blazer and had my first day off in weeks yesterday, but there's still that thrill of perpetually moving, being the one in charge and learning learning learning every day. I'm excited for the changes that are directly because of me, for the events in which I will meet the cream of the crop. I'm friends with some of the most important people on campus, am one of those people not to toot my own horn.

Of course, it figures that my best year will be my last at Texas State, but I don't care. Besides having little time to think about graduation and life post-undergrad, I just can't focus on the future right now, as ostrich-sticking-head-in-the-sand as that is. The reality is that my present is too fun, too exhausting and too demanding to worry about what will come in May. So as I finish up a Spanish composition and field questions about who is bringing the sodas to the Comm Club meeting tomorrow and organizing a study session for Rhetorical Criticism, I revel in what my days are filled with and just enjoy the ride.

Till the Sun Turns Black

So I'm sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for some girls from my rhetorical criticism class for a study group. Thus, a blog should be produced. Well, at least before a study guide is.

I suppose the reason I haven't been posting much is that I haven't had a lot to say. There's lots going on (last week alone I met 5 famous people. Crazy.) I've been insanely over the moon about the weather change, it's intense. I never thought I'd miss a season as much as I miss winter, but there you go.

Something interesting that's happening with the weather change is how much I miss Australia. I miss it every single day, often more than once, and I want to go back so badly. I had said I didn't want to go back to Sydney, but maybe Melbourne and Adelaide, but I miss my home in Sydney. I miss walking down to the cafe for pain au chocolate and a latte. I miss taking the bus. I miss my crappy, little hostel with its warm bed and odd inhabitants. Nothing like an overcast sky and cool breeze to make me miss winter in Sydney.

School is school, I can't stop telling people it's crazy, which is the truth. I've never had to push myself this hard and have never wanted to do less work. Senioritis is real, except this time it's the opposite; I do not want to leave school, so hard work and doing well only means the minutes until graduate come all the more quickly. Therefore, I avoid all. So far...it's not working.

Alright, the girls are here, so I should go. But, the bottom line I'm selling is that I'm crazy, but I'm really happy. So there's that.

Make a Choice

In my creative writing class, the number one critique I have for every single story is "Make a decision." About perspective, about punctuation, about tense, it's all about making the decision and going with it, regardless of the consequences. Sure your story might still suck, but at least you had the back bone to defend it until the last period.

Well, ever the metaphorical conversationalist, I decided to bring this up when having an intense heart-to-heart with my roommate this evening. She's been, well, she's deep in a situation and can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, so instead she stands still, awaiting for the switch to be flipped for her. You can understand how this could frustrate her loved ones, especially one who is as assertive as myself. The conversation ended pleasantly, but I like to think she couldn't ignore the steel behind my sweet-lined analogies.

More often than not, it's the thing we don't want to hear: You have to make a choice, you can't just stand there waiting for the sky to fall. You can move forward, you can move back, just as long as you do something. Perhaps this is my naivete speaking, but when faced with a school year that is wholeheartedly devoted to some of the most important decisions I've made thus far, it can seem so much bigger than that. It's our lives. If we can't make up our minds, how can we expect anyone else to do it?

Nobody likes making decisions. It's so very easy to choose wrong, even in the odds are ever in your favor. Between yes or no, the gray area is boundless. But this is the life we have. We chose freedom, we chose free will. That should have been the red flag that decision-making would always be a burden over a glory.

I sit here, ignoring my Spanish notes, facing my life and wanting nothing more than to bury my head in the sand, pull the covers over my head. It's sounds more perfect than you could imagine. How could I ever choose between careers or paths when crawling back to my comfy college classes is so much more choice? However, I fancy myself a realist and I know without a shadow of a doubt that when May comes, I will have done the unthinkable and made my decision. Because I can't not. I'm too stubborn to fall to ground in defeat and have spent way too much time poring over flashcards and obscure theorists to not have the life I want.

So my friends flounder in their loves lives, their school lives, even their social lives and put off decisions with GRE tests and law school applications. Perhaps the act of not choosing is nothing more than the greatest decision of all, but the bottom line I constantly draw is that the decision will get made regardless of my actions; I would just rather have a say in what happens to me than not. That, above all else, is what makes me memorize the pasado subjuntivo and move on with my life.