somewhere only we know

I haven’t written for months.  I haven’t had the time.  My spring semester was filled with more of my gen-ed classes, so they weren’t classes I particularly enjoyed.  I did well in all of them, even math, but I just did not enjoy my schedule.  Even my history class-Historical Methods and Interpretations 270, wasn’t much fun.  I didn’t actually learn any history-just how to write it.  Which is good, I guess, but boring as hell most days.

I’ve been home for fifteen days now.  Jesus.  Fifteen days.  Feels like an eternity.  Two weeks at school would fly by-but two weeks at home have dragged.  According to the countdown I have set up, there are ninety days left until the glorious date of August 21st, which is the first day of band camp.  I find it sad how badly I want summer to be over.  Summer is supposed to be a fun time of relaxation and vacation.  I shouldn’t want to pack my car up right now and drive back to school.  But I do.

Things have picked up a little bit since I started working.  I went around the first Monday I was home to find a job.  I got really damn lucky, when the second place I walked into said that they were looking to hire.  I’m getting at least thirty hours a week there, which is awesome seeing as I have to come up with $1500 dollars for the Germany trip next May.  Work is good.  I keep busy so it goes pretty quickly and my bosses are really nice.  I like working with cute dogs all day long.  I’m already scheduled to work over breaks which is a relief to know that they want to keep me on through the school year.  It keeps me out of the house and it’s keeping my finances afloat.  My schedule is flexible enough so that I do have a few days off a week, but I’d almost rather be working almost every day and making money.

Being home has made me thankful for the people I met this year at school.  My friends from college are the most amazing group of people I’ve ever met.  Amanda and I talked about this once when we went to Dunkin Donuts one day.  How we feel closer to the people we’ve met here only months ago than we do to the people at home that we’ve known for years.  And for the most part, I do.  I do still have friends at home, but there’s a lot less of them that I count as close.  It’s also made me realize how little I mean to many people back here.  I’m sick and tired and done with people that only talk to me when they need me or when they have problems.  I realized that when I got a phone call one day from someone I considered a friend.  She had gotten hurt and wanted me to tell me what was wrong.  I myself was sick from my allergies and was suffering from a double ear infection.  She didn’t give a damn about me or what was wrong with me.  When she asked how I was, I said I’d been better, because anyone that’s ever had a double ear infection can tell you that’s the truth.  Her exact reaction was “Oh,” before she dove into her own issues.

Really now?  Really?  I’m done putting up with people.  Friendship is a two way street.  And I fully believe that.  I still have friends from high school that still care about me; I know that because they also put in an effort to keep our friendship alive while I was at school.  From my high school class, that didn’t happen with the people I once called friends.  I’m done with being the only one trying to have a relationship with people.  I’m done.  I don’t care if I sound like a bitch, but I’m really over people that don’t care enough to text or call just to see how I’m doing.

This is why I miss the people that really count.  My best friends from school.  We’re all strewn out about the area that it’s going to be hard to all get together because gas is so damn expensive and we’re all poor college kids.  But I know we’ll get together at least once to go see Deathly Hallows Part II, and there will be MusikFest and other things we all want to go to.  So hopefully they happen.  And if not, we’ll just pick up where we left off, going to Johnny’s for breakfast during band camp and actually knowing what we’re doing a little bit better this time around.  And in my suite next year, with nine awesome people.  Being neighbors with the best neighbor ever, for the second year in a row and getting into crazy misadventures with her.  Having a single on the top floor, in the best building on campus.  I can’t fathom what’s going to happen next year, but I know it’s going to fly.  And I’m excited for it to start, but scared for it to end.

And I think the summer will get better once my high school friends are done for the year.  They still have a month left, but now that things are starting to wind down they’ll be around more and we’ll be able to hang out properly.  I miss them all, so much.  They’re what still matters to me in this town, because not much is keeping me here any more.  They’re closer to me than everyone from school, so I’ll be able to see them on a more regular basis.  We’ll be able to laugh and play and swim and drive around with the windows down just doing the stupid little things that create memories and strengthen friendships.  And I’m so excited for that.

Being home and pretty solitary has made me truly realize what I have.  My relationship hasn’t suffered from the distance between us, although thankfully it’s not too far.  We’ve already seen each other twice, once for Emma’s birthday party and the other for commencement celebrations.  The next time we’ll see each other is Memorial Day, so I’m hoping this week goes by quickly.  We’re going to try to make time for each other, but we’re both working and he’s got things to do and so do I.  I’m not one for sap or gush, but this is real.  I love every moment together and apart.  We don’t have a ‘song’ or anything, we have like thirty.  We’re both not perfect people, and we accept that about each other.  We had a strong friendship going into the relationship, and we still have that.  We can talk to each other about anything.  He’s one of the few people I feel comfortable completely opening up to which is the first time that a boyfriend has made his way into that category.  He understands that my last…whatever you call it…convinced me that I was worthless, that I was nothing, that I was just some stupid whore.  Kevin knows my story and he accepts me for the good and the bad.  He’s made it his goal to fix me and get me to believe what he tells me, that I am beautiful, that I am the best, that I am amazing.  I know his story, the good and the bad, as well.  And I’m so lucky to have him in my life.

I’m looking forward to the future, but I don’t want to completely skip over the summer, despite every desire I have to make it August.  I want to have a fun summer with friends I haven’t seen in a while and make the memories like I had last summer.  Here’s to an amazing freshman year, and to the years that are gonna follow.  Soon enough, it’ll be time to collect my things and head home.

room 5

My dorm room has been my home for a while now, and I feel completely comfortable calling it that.  It feels completely natural.  I love my room and how it looks-it’s very me.  My suite has become home for the sixteen of us, a very dysfunctional but wonderful family; a group of people who I both love and want to strangle at times. 

But recently, a girl in some of my classes came over for help on an essay.  I invited her up to my room, because having a single room means less distraction…or so I thought.  Rather, she complained about how my room was a distraction to her.  Already annoyed by previous events in the day, I offered to move us over to the suite’s study room.  There she complained about the lack of tables and chairs, because they were stacked into a pyramid.  We sat on the floor and I bit my tounge.  When she finally left, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

I was rather offended when she ragged on my room, because my room is mine.  I love my room.  The walls are grey and it looked a little like a prison cell when I first moved in, or, for those reading whom I went to high school with, a teacher’s office in the new school.  The floors are a darker grey tile and FREEZING cold if you step on them in the morning.  There’s a closet, desk, dresser and bed.  I made a collage on the wall next to my bed, it’s among my favorite things in my room.  Made up of letters from home, pictures of my friends and family, and writings from various news magazines about feminism.  Above the head of my bed I hung my whiteboard.  It has important messages, like combinations to things and reminders about history club and to go to the library.  It’s also where my friends write little messages when they’re over.  I get a small reminder that Amanda <3’s me, and I feel a little better.  

My windowsill is home to picture frames depicting my best friends and I at parties and as superheros.  There’s my favorite picture of Emma, looking up at a bubble with the most innocent and amazed face.  My silver Kanyes’ and an empty bottle of Pumpkin Juice add to the decor.  My desk is a constant mess, covered in weeks worth of Newsweeks and Times, which eventually I’ll sit down and read.  That’s one thing I dislike about college–I feel so very out of the loop when it comes to the news, and I hate that feeling.  But anyway, back to the desk.  It has a lot of books on it; my textbooks sit in a pile at the end of my desk, my reference books and a few DVDs from home sit behind my laptop.  My printers sit on the small shelve above my desk along with my change jar and my statue of Dobby holding up a sock.  There are more Emma pictures.  And post it notes.  Lots and lots of post its.  My multi-colored stickies have my favorite song lyrics written on them in different designs.  They’re all posted around my desk to keep the space cheery and a little less black and white.  

Next to my desk is my dresser, which contains most of my clothing.  On top are things like hair gel, contact solution, and various other similar items.  My camera’s over there, along with the Butterbeer glass from Wizarding World and a small plastic giraffe.   More pictures; my gift from Alyssa of us, Kate and Ally from my New Years party and one from Natalie’s graduation party during the foam cannon madness.  My second dresser is a plastic white thing that my mom insisted on buying.  It has towels and stuff in it.  It’s home to my evil hairdryer, which smokes whenever I try using it.  On top are, as usual, picture frames, along with the books I got out of the library yesterday for my history essay and my research paper. 

This wall is home to a hodge-podge of posters, my favorite being the Rosie the Riviter one posted over my desk.  My calendar, filled with events, is nearby my door.  My mirror is carefully attached to the door, not wanting to end up like the first one, which shattered on my second day here.  There’s a light next to the closet, but it sucks.  My mini-fridge and microwave are underneath.  My closet has my nicer clothes in it, along with random things like my band uniform, my graduation gown, and my jazz band gown.  My massive supply of food is on top, along with my Harry Potter books and my laundry stuff.  The basket sits next to the closet, partly hidden by my bed and the red ottoman that hides my binders when they aren’t in use.  My massive, overflowing bag of yarn normally sits tipped over on the black shag carpet, and several half finished scarves float around the different corners of the room.

My room is my home, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Except the temperature.  That can be raised twenty degrees.

thirty one

I have been a college student for thirty-one days.  I would have loved to have done this post yesterday, but Wednesday is my crazy day when I’m up at 7 and in bed at midnight.  Here’s a little glimpse into the knowledge I’ve picked up during my first month here.

1.  College is, at least in  my case, a lot more liberal than high school.  People are much more open about things than they are.  Probably has something to do with the maturity level, and how it actually seems that some guys have a shred of common sense.  It’s a wonderful change. 

2.  In living with fifteen other people, it has become apparent that we all like the thermostat at different temperatures.  This has resulted in war between those that like it tropical and those who like it snowing. 

3.  When you think twenty-five boxes of muffins will go bad before everyone gets a chance to eat them, remember you’re living with ten guys, and you’ll find that the muffins have been consumed by the end of two weeks.

4.  Learn to play the following: Brawl, Halo and Mario Kart.

5.  Post-it notes are a great way to cure boredom.

6.  Coffeehouse is a must.

7.  Aussies are significantly cooler than shakos.  And that college marching band is WAY different from anything I ever experienced in high school.

8.  Sometime your professors won’t be American.  This is a really cool and interesting experience, such as mine with my Latin American History professor, who was born and raised in Mexico, and studied at Oxford.  Sometimes it’s difficult when she speaks quickly, because then there’s little hope of understanding.  There’s just generally a very different perspective cast on learning at college, and it’s very much a do-it-yourself atmosphere.  It’s sink or swim. 

9.  Cafeteria food isn’t always bad, but sometimes it can be; i.e. Chinese food.  Which is probably why they send out menus in all the mailboxes for pizza places and Chinese places.

10.  There’s so much more you can do on campus.  There’s music, sports, and clubs.  There’s literally hundreds of options, but if there isn’t something you want, you can make it. 

11.  Being employed will help my bank account, but will seriously cut into my naptime.  I’m unsure how I feel about this. 

12.  The washing machines at the HILL are evil moneysuckers that should only be used when your basket is overflowing or you’ve run out of socks. 

13.  It’s okay to go to the Root Cellar without shoes.  This makes late night Ben and Jerry’s runs much easier.

14.  Do not leave facebook open on your laptop in the common area.  Ever.   Also, forts are even better in college.

you are not alone

I have been told on many occasions that I am not alone.  On the subject of my feminism, I have always felt like the black sheep; the oddball.  This clearly has never stopped my views, although it has made it really difficult at times.

I’ve finally found people who have my same ideas.  I’ve finally found a place where I can be myself and not be afraid to be myself.  Today, while making a point in my Sustainable Livings class, I mentioned how I always felt like a minority because of my feminist ideas.  It tied in with our discussion about whether or not someone can stand along and change the world.  It’s one reason why I’m so passionate about the subject.

My friend and suitemate tapped me and showed me something she wrote.  It said, “I’m also a super feminist, so you are not alone.”

This meant so much to me.  It meant so much to me to learn that there are other people like me.  I knew there would be, but going to the high school I went to, I had some serious doubts.  I knew I was ostracized sometimes because of makes me how I felt about this.  Knowing that there is someone more like you out there is such a comforting feeling, especially when you’re in a new environment where you have to start all over again. 

So, the point is, no matter how lost and alone you may feel, there is always someone, somewhere that has a similar idea, thought or feeling.  You are never alone.  There is no alone. 

This isn’t just about finding another feminist.  This is about the realization that people can be honest about themselves and be accepted for it.  I’m here at college, and I’m not hiding things.  I’m not hiding my political or religious views.  I’m still not going to go around trying to convince everyone that my way is the only way, because I hate when people are like that.  But this time around, this time I plan on being myself, and not who my environment wants me to be.  The place that I spent the last four years wanted me to fit a mold.  The place that I will be spending the next four years wants me to be myself.  

Will I run into people who don’t like me for my ideas?  Yes.  There’s no question about it.  As the saying goes-“haters gonna hate.”  But am I going to let it get me down?  No.  I am beautiful, and my ideas are beautiful.  I can change things, I can change the world.  There is both a lot I can do and a lot I want to do to make this world a better place, not just for me but for everyone.  And I can.  Because I am not alone.

-7 days

I have enjoyed the best summer ever.  From two incredible vacations, to seeing DCI both nights at one of the biggest shows of the season with one of my best friends, to all of the random get togethers with the friends that have made my high school experience truly unique, this summer has gone by much faster than I would have hoped.  I’m glad that this summer was as amazing as it was, because it helped to build up my friendships and has helped me to get closer to a lot of people.

I leave for college in a week.  And it is a very strange feeling to know that tomorrow many of my friends will be going to band camp, and I won’t be there.  I’m not sad about it; I had my time with that band.  It is time to start something new.  But it is still weird to not be going, seeing as my past four summers have all ended with band camp at the high school. 

I am more than excited to start a new adventure with a new band with a show that I can’t tell what the theme is.  I’ve missed marching more than I expected too.  I haven’t marched since March (ha, irony!) since my knee kicked me off the line.  It’s also weird how I missed marching trumpet-something I didn’t expect to.  While I loved playing baritone, and loved learning bass clef and a new instrument, I missed marching trumpet. 

So in a week’s time, I’ll be all settled into my dorm and at a band practice.  I don’t have the worries most people have about school.  I’ve been becoming friendly with a lot of people at Moravian, so I’m not worried about the whole OMG-I’m-gonna-know-nobody-there thing.  I really haven’t encountered a mean person, and all of the people I’m going to be living with in my suite seem like really chill people.  I’m not worried about the roommate situation, because I don’t have one-single room as a freshman?  Yeah, I’m pumped.    

This post doesn’t have some heartfelt meaning.  I’m not angrily blogging about how stupid my local political circle is, and I’m not sharing some sweet message I saw in an event that took place as I was going through my daily routine.  This is just me, excited for college, and unsure what to do for the next week.