First of all, something from my horoscope (I don't put too much stock into it, but for what it's worth...):
"You may find yourself staring at a blank page for what seems like hours on end while you try to get down on paper what you really want to say, dear Sagittarius."
...which is odd, considering the day I've had. Went to Borders with Andy, Brian, and Gemma, and proceeded to peruse fiction, travel, and architecture (if only I didn't hate math and physics so much...), and listened to a new Diana Krall CD. Borders, while therapeutic because it is, after all, a sort of mecca for my bibliophilic self, also reinforced the fact that I really have no idea what I want to do with my life. These people that wrote these books, even the crappy romances and self-help books that help only the gurus on their way to the bank, had goals-- maybe not goals per se, but they accomplished something more than sitting around and watching "The Real World" over and over. Everyone who reads this and knows what they want to do in life, I salute you. You're great. Gemma, with your medical aspirations, Brian, with your theatrics, Michelle, with your political fervor-- you amaze me. You KNOW why you're here in college, and you have some sort of future plan. Me? Sure, I'm going to get a bachelor's in English. That's what I'll do, but I know I don't have the balls to be a writer. I just don't, and that's it. So what am I going to do? I'll be the most overqualified secretary in the office, I guess. Briefly discussed this uncertainty with Andy, who suggested that the past, not the future, is the reason that we're here in college. Is it? The past is what got us here-- the test scores, the extracurriculars, the amazing application essay. But now we're here, and all that motivates us, ultimately, is the future. We study, we labor over hot computers, we agonize over test scores because, someday, they'll be worth more than some text on URSA that says "3.62" or whatever, right?
Had a long walk with Candice, mostly because I'm in this mood that manages to cover restlessness, anxiety, exhaustion, and desire to vent all that to someone else. Vented, talked over stuff that's been bugging me (sporadic anxiety about the actions of others who may or may not know that they're the sources of such...stress), stuff that's happened, stuff that should have happened, and the stupid stuff I did that made it impossible for the occurrence of the stuff that we so desperately WANT to happen (did that make any sense? read it again!). And now I'm sitting here, feet freezing from walking out in the night wind, legs still chilled from sitting on the fountain for so long, but satisfied that the feeling that was so strong earlier tonight has somewhat subsided. For now.
New resolutions? Maybe...just some "target areas" (haha, like in a diet. This will be a diet, for my lifestyle rather than my body.)
Be satisfied with what I have. This includes friends, body, possessions. Everything. Stop WANTING so much to have something else. What I have isn't all that bad, it really isn't.
Don't be so surprised that eveyone isn't my biggest fan. After all, I have my own extensive list of people whose fanclub newsletters I don't wish to receive anymore.
Calm down. Not to the point of numbness, but...desensitize? Scratch that. "I'm sensitive, and I'd like to stay that way."
Stay what I am. It's not as bad as I think it is--most of the time, anyway.
Learn to be articulate about stuff that's bothering me. Stop leaving rooms just because I'm afraid that if I stay there, I'll get too frustrated to have any sort of discussion and that I'll just start to cry.
Allow myself to cry, and just pray that I don't get anymore tears up my nose.
Think about the stuff I post in an online journal that anyone could read, just because I'm too lazy to write it down and too much of a wimp to talk to people about what's going on in my life.
And this was the end of the horoscope (fits, right?)...
"However, once you start the act of writing, or whatever task you need to complete, things seem to flow to completion on their own."
