Mixed Emotions

I'm here. I've actually been here for a week now, although it feels like a month.

I have an announcement to make: I like my roommate. She's great, and I regret the time I spent worrying about life with her. We both believe in the "Be Considerate" attitude, and what's more, we've had some really great conversations about deep stuff. It's true, you become friends fast in college. That's also held true with one of mine and Roomate's suitmates. She's so kind and genuine. The other suitemate will be interesting to live with, considering she came in drunk at 5:00 am the first day we were here. We'll see.

I've been really enjoying the whole experience. I think I can handle this level of independence, being able to do what I want when I want. The making friends thing isn't that hard, either. People are sad and scared. Putting on a confident, happy face draws them out in droves. It's nice to be their comforter.

That said, it's getting tiresome. The whole week I marvelled at my adjustment (as did Roommate: "Aren't you homesick?"). But then my car's battery died - twice [see last post to understand how devastating that was]. And Roommate went home for the weekend, as well as Nice Suitmate. Drunk Suitmate is goodness knows where. I probably won't see her until tomorrow afternoon. I locked myself out of our room, but no one was there, so I ashamedly had to call security.

I'm really homesick. I miss my family, my friends, my life. I just want to recognize a face or hear a voice I know well. I wish my "I" key wasn't sticky because I let Drunk Suitmate borrow my laptop. I want someone to say my name without a question mark on their face. I want to stop "getting to know" and just "know". I want to make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I want to visit a familiar park bench. I want to hug my mom and pet my cats. I'm tired of forgetting people's names. I want to let down this pretense of having it all together. The empty dorm room is getting lonely, and I sincerely wish I had gone home this weekend, that the thought of going home so early wasn't viewed as such a weakness or detriment, that Labor day weekend was closer.

The saddest thing in life is to be needy, because the shame you feel from your condition prevents you from ever directly seeking help.

Forgive the Déjà Vu

I leave for college today.

If anyone on this earth has semi-faithfully read this blog, they'd pick up on one obvious detail: I really don't want to leave. I like living in my home, seeing my family everyday, hanging out with the best friends I've ever had in my life. Why would I want it to change?

I was upset yesterday, which was really inconvenient, as I was attempting to celebrate my birthday. Don't get me wrong, thanks to some of my dearest friends, I had a great time. But the whole day was overshadowed by the finality of the past week. I've been wished well, told good bye, hugged, and photographed so many times in these last few days, it's really no wonder.

So that kind of explains why I did it.

After visiting my high school for one more (unsuccessful) farewell, I broke down. I could barely make it to my car. Once inside, I started driving. I sought out my bench, but the maintence people were at the cemetery. So I kept driving. For an hour.

I went on my favorite roads, especially the ones by our local "mountain". The kind of curvy ones where the tree cover is so dense, the sun shoots its syncopated blinks through the branches. It was good. I was able to take a break from the meeting and the talking and the packing. I could just be upset. Granted, it didn't solve my problems or change reality. (Which my grandfather confirmed that night when he ignored me as usual.)

My solace is not playing the flute, running, or even deep sleep. It's driving. The funny thing is, on my 15th birthday, I was completely terrified of driving. I was dead convinced (no pun intended) that I was going to kill someone the second I slid behind the wheel. Before I had even tried it, I decided I wasn't going to like it and that it was too dangerous. Unlike most 15 year olds, I avoided getting my permit until my mom dragged me to the DMV.

However, once I started practicing in parking lots with my pugnacious grandmother, I warmed up to it. I went to driver's ed, and actually enjoyed the interstate training. By the time I got my liscense (this time, I did the dragging), I was thrilled.

Driving's a good thing, regardless of what I thought orginally. Could the same be true with college? It's new, terrifying, and dangerous. But perhaps it'll become enjoyable and thrilling.

We'll see. For now, I'd better hit the sack. I have a long drive ahead of me.