I Need to Read About Nuclear Power. Or Sleep. Instead: this.Posted: October 19, 2008
It’s been a long time since I wrote a blog. A real, honest to goodness blog. Not a creative writing assignment, not a random sampling of me being triste con la vida (Oh, Julieta Venegas, what would I do without you). Just thoughts. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did. Have I ever written such a blog? Can I write such a blog? Hillary and I have discussed many a time that one never blogs when happy–after all, you’re too busy out being happy to sit at your computer and blog. I cannot capture happiness in words. It just is. Happiness is music; angst is words. So I guess if you’ve been annoyed at the lack of happy in my blog (yeah, I’m talking to you, grandparents) there’s your explanation. But on to my neither happy nor sad observations. Well, I’d like them to be emotionally neutral. They aren’t. Whatever, deal with it.
College is looming ever closer. And for the first time in my life, it would seem, just as it is within my grasp, that prospect really, really freaks me out. I have to…choose. I can’t even decide what color socks to put on in the morning (I go for two colors just to cover a few different bases)!! How am I going to choose what is essentially the determining factor of the direction my life from this point on is going to go?
And once I do decide, what then? It’s an exciting prospect–a whole new town and whole new friends. But I’m crap at “keeping in touch.” Even if facebook allows me to stalk the lives of people I was once friends with, it’s not like we’re really friends anymore. I’ve worked so hard to make friends at Foothill, and it took me so long to get to the level of comfort I’m at socially. Is it going to take 4 more years of random acquaintanceship before I get friends who break into my house and text me pictures that exploit my ridiculous phobias? Friends who know what I’m thinking almost before I do?
I guess these fears are of my own making. I can’t stand the idea of going to college with a bunch of people I know. Not because they’re dumbshits. No, even the people I love–I would feel like that was cheating. I have this compulsion to strike out on my own. It’s one of many compulsions I have to make myself unhappy. It seems like in my quest for maturity I’m always making myself feel crappy. Is that what being mature means? It would be easier if I really wanted to go to Berkeley. I wish I did. I’m such an abnormal speech kid. But I don’t. The idea is a beautiful. But…I don’t know. I guess it has something to do with the fact that I have this deep rooted fear that if I never leave California I never will.
On the flip side, Boston is pretttttty. I love fall. A lot. I got to wear a scarf today!!! AND I BOUGHT A SWEATERVEST. Jesus Christ with a mohawk, I’m excited about it. Though I don’t know if I can handle WINTER. It’s not winter here, it’s WINTER. But Harvard was so amazing. Or maybe I’m just elitist. Or maybe it’s both. Brandeis, BU and Northwestern within a couple days, we’ll see if who wins the “Shaunacy wants to go to college here” competition.