I don't want to be afraid to do anything. Ever.

But sometimes I am.

There's so much coming my way this year: good and bad and everything in between. My life takes a permanent change after this year. It's so much different than high school, where I graduated and moved on to more schooling. Now I'm supposed to move onto the Big Life and Careers and Marriage and somehow turn out successful in it all... It's this gigantic vortex of unknown that keeps getting harder and harder to plan ahead for.

The solution to the change is pretty easy. It's what I've always done before: follow my heart, trust my impulses, and let the rest of the chips fall as they may. But I still get completely wound up in the anticipation of what's to come sometimes, and all the things I can't plan for seem too big too process. It feels kind of like taking a giant inhale of air, capturing it in my lungs and weighing it with my feelings before letting it all out at once in one great gust. And I guess that's all it is, really—moving forward. One giant breath, letting it out, and then taking another... pulling in all the positive and releasing all the negative again and again.

Now if I could just invent some outlet to channel all this pent-up anticipation before it corrodes my brain.

We're getting a new dishwasher!

The full story: We were having some issues getting the thermostat to work, so my roommate called in the maintenance guy. He fixed the thermostat temporarily, and will replace it completely when he comes to replace the dishwasher. He said they're both just very old, and need to be updated (which we fully agreed with like springy little bobble heads). He also got the heat working; the pilot light just needed to be lit. So now we have heat... you know, now that winter is basically over...

And just for laughs, I think you guys should know that when the maintenance man investigated why our dishwasher, or The Beast, as we like to call it, was making that god awful noise when it ran, he retrieved a tupperware that looked like a dinosaur had gnawed on it, and a porcelain teacup handle out of the main component where the washer spins. I'm pretty sure at that point he thought he had fixed it because he smiled, and said, "Well, that might be the problem..." He closed the mouth of The Beast once more, set it to run, and sure enough, it continued to make that wretched scraping noise. The smile came clean off his face and landed on ours. "That's a problem," he said. "This'll need to be replaced." I could have hugged him.

Other than the sparkling clean dishes now shining into our future, life has been all buttercups and dandelions again. Winter quarter is officially in full swing. I cut my hours drastically at work after learning my lesson that working full-time on top of full-time school is a death wish, so I'm only working two days (averaging about 15 hours). I'm in two higher level graphic design courses and Speech and Public Speaking online. Yes, you read that correctly: online. I'd always planned on putting the stupid class off until senior year in hopes that I'd be so dazzled by the light at the end of the tunnel that it would lighten the pain of taking the wretched, horrible, no good, really bad class. But scheduling made things difficult, and one way or another, the universe forced me into taking it this quarter. I only have to give two public speeches. I think I can handle that.


Under eighty days until I'm living in France. I still can't believe that sentence is fact, and not fantasy.

Sometimes, when I get really down, I get on the computer and watch old videos of all my friends together, or read e-Mails we sent back and forth while apart for long periods of time. It never fails to make me laugh, or at the very least, smile.

I want to share a little (and archive it in the process). Under the cut is summer 'letters' between my roommate (who was a few hundred miles away at camp at the time) and me (writing from a myriad of places, but mostly stuck in the SAV working). Enjoy. More importantly, laugh (because, yes, we really are that silly at twenty years old).

( NEW DISHWASHER, ANYONE? )

Currently, I'm pulling an all-nighter. Nothing new or unusual.

Drawing for Design is the bane of my design existence. I hate this class with every fiber of my being. With each passing project, the only thought going through my head at 4 am is if SCAD wasn't making me take this stupid shit, I could be sleeping. Healthy, normal, natural: sleeping, instead of drawing these stupid god damn perfect, even lines on god damn perfect, white paper. It doesn't help much that I go straight from class to work until midnight on zero hours of sleep.

I knew this year was going to be tough. I push myself to get the most hours at work, the hardest professors, the best grades (Dean's List for a third time would be stellar), and somewhere in the middle of all that, I go insane while I try and keep it all together.

But the end of tomorrow, that is what will make life worth living. Tomorrow night the bests get here and then bright and early Friday morning we all pile into our vehicles and drive up to Asheville, NC for a weekend of mountains, photoshoots, fancy estates, cookouts, and fall love. I've been counting down the days for three months.

Other than that, life has been as expected. Barnes has been typical Barnes, with customers as batshit as ever and employees revolting against the camera systems my manager now watches from home. Boys have been typical boys, prying their way in and leaving wreckage behind. Friends have been amazing, with movie nights, late night conversations, and pumpkin pie making. Classes have been exactly what I predicted for junior year, stressful and generally Hell on Earth. But this is it, my life, and though I seem to be living it on fast forward, I'm collecting a million good hearts and memories along the way.


p.s. I was recently featured on Explore on Flickr! I'm thrilled.

I am struggling.

I've been perfectly content for such a long stretch (almost a year)... I think I forgot what struggling feels like. It's depressing. Disheartening. It makes me want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, take a deep breath and pretend the rest of the world beyond that sheet does not exist.

I'm so tired of this ring-around-the-rosy bullshit. I want to jump into the field, wet my tongue, really get a taste for this career I've picked out. I want to be actually doing something, anything, other than wasting time frittering with rulers and smudge-less lines and perfection and prissy measurements. I want a good night's sleep. I want someone to listen, actually listen, to the words strung pretty in my brain instead of blahblahblahing themselves.

I want my happiness back.

Ok, we've all known for ages that MTV is a major failboat that sinks farther below the water every passing Tuesday. But, really, I was so hyped for the first scene and the interviews, and they totally blew it. I felt so bad for poor Stephenie Meyer who was basically put on display like a zoo animal to introduce the clip... ugh, she looked so uncomfortable. And it's sad, but I think the blaring pink logo pasted over half the screen pissed me off the most. The graphic designer in me was cringing in a corner, crying. Thank heavens for whoever converted it to HD mp4.



I do want to say this, though: the movie is still going to kick ass. That's not just the fangirl speaking. Give it a chance, kids.

As for my actual life, things are starting to pick up. Being done with school is glorious. Finals were brutal hell this quarter, and it's unsettling to know that they will only get worse as each year progresses. We're not freshman anymore (and now we're not sophomores anymore either--scary!), and there's no more playing around. It's serious now, "the real deal." We actually have to conquer hurdles like portfolios and internships and the ultimate resume. I can't lie, though--I'm so excited for my internship next summer (assuming I get it (which I totally will)). I can't wait to get my hands on actual work, to really jump in and decide whether it's the spot for me or not. It's good planning on my part in that if I don't enjoy it, I've still got another internship opportunity to find what I do like. But I can't imagine myself not enjoying it. I mean, publishing, guh, my brain goes all jumpy just fantasizing about it.

Friday night was the SCAD Alumni concert, which allowed us to see Natasha Bedingfield for free at Forsyth. Most SCAD kids were pissed--Natasha isn't really that big of a name, and even smaller at an art school where everything has to be indie or "cutting edge" (whatever that means; I don't even try to keep up) to be worthy of their ears, but I don't know, Lil and I were pretty psyched. It was nice just being at the park--we haven't had anytime to do that lately--hanging out with Kathleen on a blanket, people watching. And then afterwards Malia picked us up at the end of the park so we could all go see Sex and the City because I really wanted to go and Malia really wanted to go and it was a nice end-of-classes girls night out.

Work has been, well, work. Dealing with all the crazy 12-year-old fangirls at Barnes who came in to get the special edition of Eclipse yesterday night was hilarious. It makes me really want to work the midnight release of Breaking Dawn, but if things work out, I'll be packing for a trip to Maine with Shans instead (because birthdays this year are made of win). Outside of that, the only excitement is the crazy man who came and threatened us for money. Lillian (just before her drive home for the summer) filed a police report and we're getting our security system turned on because of it, what a mess. All I can think is, gee, what a great way to start my first day of living all by myself. Oh, City of Savannah, only you.

I am kind of like a planet knocked off its axis. I'm revolving around all these things, pulling all the wrong people into my orbit. And why? Why why why why, I ask? I know it's because I fucked a few things up, and fucked a few people over, and now it's coming back to me in the most annoying rush of angry water and high winds.

But, still. I redeemed my errors as best I could. I said "sorry" where I needed to, I re-established what I never should have cast away (thank you thank you thank you, you are my light, darling). I got past the bullshit with one of you, and finally dove in to what never should have been so difficult to begin with. We're going to be okay, you and me. And then there's those gorgeous, gorgeous bests that I have who are just... friendship with you guys is an everyday reward. It's so sappy, and so mushy, and my mainstream readers are going to vomit, but you really have shown me what true friendship entails, and it's so much more than what I knew before. I trust you, I trust you with my everything, and even when you're thousand of miles away, it's perfect. With you, it's just being, and god, it's rewarding.

And then there is my relationship status, which is like a ping pong ball that I am ready to grab and smash with a hammer. This mess is breeding an endless self-pity party that revolts my brain cells. You either like him or you don't, and then you move on to the next one, and repeat. It's not that difficult, really, but somehow, I complicate the most simple things to the nth degree. All I know is one of you--- you make the words come out of my mouth so smooth that I have to double check that it's still me talking. And that's really attractive, actually. (PLEASE UNIVERSE, LET ME HAVE THIS ONE. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE.) Maybe I'm simply attracted to words and quirks and eyelashes, but not people? Is that possible?

Finals suck. Is there any other way to explain that? No. Finals suck, finals suck, finals suck. They suck on top of their epic suckage. They are raped with their own fail. They fail in ultimate, epic proportions. I could go on for hours, but I think you all have the general gist, yeah?

The novel manuscript has hit 135 pages. And that's still without a single completed chapter. It's just scenes and scenes and scenes, piled on top of each other as orderly as possible. My goal is to have the first ten chapters done by August. That's a halfway point. I could be published by the time I turn twenty-two at this rate--which would be both fantastic and terrifying. Don't worry, Em, I'll give myself enough time, I promise.

Smaller, closing rants, in no particular order: the "soundtrack" to Barnes and Noble is so very annoying, and continually rapes my brain when I least expect it (damn you, B&N, damn you!); Leona Lewis is the worst guilty pleasure ever; I think a murderer tried to pick me up downtown on my way to the library today; Sirius has finally hit his "sleeping" phase; my surprise Birthday party for Lillian was successful, but I need to get the pictures from her camera still; we get to see Natasha Bedingfield for free this weekend; oh, did I mention that finals suck?; Bella's new missile-proof Mercedes is made of win; Shannon's Italy picture updates are thrilling; I can't wait for it to be Winter again; you'll never read this, but: I pick you; three more freaking days of this hell.

We’re moved. It took forever, and was completely exhausting, and we probably would have died in the street if not for the help of my parents because wow, did we have a lot of junk! Moving from the dorms last year was chaotic, yes, but not nearly as tiring because there was no furniture to move, unlike this time where we had beds and desks and chairs and couches and on and on and on.

I went through a series of paint colors and angry grumbling before I finally decided on one color to paint my room… and even then, I didn’t start liking it until almost three days after it was painted. But I think it came out very nice, all things considered. I painted the crown molding and the trim a clean white called ‘Waning Moon’ and the walls are a light shade of aqua that was much darker before I took a quart of the trim paint and dumped it in. I wish I would have enjoyed painting it more, I wanted it to be something special, and it kind of turned into a big, stressful mess, except for the night where Malia came to help and brought sangria and caught a midnight movie with us.

Outside of the move, finals are upon us again. Boo, hiss. Having a night job and getting final projects done is not a good combination, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I am seriously concerned for my final grades, and just how I am going to manage to complete all of this when I work every available night this weekend and next week. I am 50% caffeine, 50% bitter resentment at this point.

Emily’s currently in Alaska, Shannon’s in Italy, my parents are in tropical paradise, Bec just got back from New York City, Malia and Ben are going to South America in a few weeks, and Lillian leaves for North Carolina once school ends. And I am going to be here. Alone with Sirius. All summer. Until August.

My next update will be more thrilling than this, I promise.