thoughts of the day – march 3

This week has been a lovely week, and I don’t mean to diminish that in any way, but I’m definitely crashing. There have been scattered moments of peace – ones I haven’t felt in a while, hands wrapped around hot tea, early morning, wet hair, hidden smiles – but everything I’m involved in right now is driving my mind in circles. There’s so much I want to do. There are so many people around me who are struggling. And I’m just here in a pocket of it all, tired of seeing it all and simultaneously feeling alive from how stretched and worn down I am.

In the same vein, it’s been a while since I’ve let myself feel the lows, and it does have a habit of weighing me down in quiet for a bit. Not a bad thing, probably healthy, just a Friday night melancholy from a day that hasn’t stopped running.

thoughts of the day – feb. 15

One of the nice parts of taking philosophy and English classes now is that I’m encountering names for feelings I never knew how to describe. Or, at the very least, finding that there are articulated phenomena and schools of thought to which people subscribe. Like the one believing in the inherent strangeness of being, and existing. The habits we have. The social cues. Like how you can be a different person in the daytime versus the night time. Or the bizarre idea that I funnel coffee into my body to make me wake up. Some mornings, existence as a whole feels vaguely Wonderland-esque.

thoughts of the day – feb. 12

I always get nervous when it’s all smooth. Not to say there has to always  be brewing conflict in my life – and there is, in smaller pockets – but it makes me anxious when the big-picture is full of general contentment.

It worries me not to be worried. I also feel vaguely guilty about the lack of purpose I feel when it’s all smooth sailing. Should I be hoping for experiences that light fires under me, even if they leave me standing in the shower for twenty minutes wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life? I think of artists, and depression, and how it’s dangerous to think that I can’t be productive and happy. The way I function can be counterintuitive, I know. A shitty go-around of being convinced that when I let my guard down, a bombshell will come out of nowhere.

But I do worry that I’m not doing enough, that I’m missing some huge chunk of the picture, something I should be scared of.

thoughts of the day – feb. 9

I wish I wrote on here more. I have more outlets now, and that’s a good thing. But I’m also a sneaky person in the sense that I feel like by exposing myself more – to people, events, etc,. – I’m losing a bit of myself. Sharing to a blank page on the internet feels significantly more like I’m just burrowing inside my own head. Even if I am a month behind in my journaling, stuck in nights I want to capture.

It’s also disappointing now that my life has veered into terms I can’t really talk about. Certain aspects of college life aren’t appropriate for general consumption, and others are entirely specific to campus culture. And here in a small town, everything is a reference. Anyone in the Lexington bubble would know the concepts I’m referring to when I wanted to explore the nuances of something that bothers or challenges me. So this blog doesn’t feel as much like an exploration anymore. I can no longer write vaguely about work, boys, friendship troubles, nights out, mental health, or general trends I notice among people. I can no longer really write about itching to get out of here because I’m not itching to get out of here. That was a hometown restlessness. That’s not exactly a bad thing, but it’s definitely different. It leaves me with less I can candidly discuss.

I don’t know where to put all that. The journal is more of a straight recap of events. With friends, I can’t really talk about my existential crises or my worries about people as a whole. I can’t really talk about how badly I want to just evaporate for a little while and not interact with them, because that’s just plain rude. I can’t necessarily articulate the line between loving them but still needing space. (And why the reason I need space is because I find myself wanting to be with them all the time. I’m naturally suspicious of myself when I spend all my time with the same people.)

Like last year, I noticed that few people really eat alone anymore. I got really great about sitting alone at meals, bringing a book, working on homework. Getting back to that healthy point where I am perfectly happy by myself, even if I’m doing something mundane.

This year, I’m trying to take that one step further. Go and eat alone more, sure. But also go and eat alone without distractions. No book, no phone, no work. Nothing to do but watch the people around me and scarf down a meal. I think it says something about not only eating alone to reassure myself, but because it’s an earnestly comfortable and enjoyable thing to do. That makes it more than a statement.

It fails sometimes, especially when people come and sit with me. I like the spontaneity of it: getting roped into conversations with people eating at different times. Earlier, I was really great about just going and sitting with strangers – getting to know my fellow first-years just because. Recently, I’ve been settling back into a comfort zone (which I don’t exactly like.)

Sororities make that difficult too. People told me before that it changed things, especially in D-Hall. People would throw requests for eating buddies into the group message. You’d always have a crowd. You’d be herded into KD tables, Kappa tables, Pi Phi tables. It’s fun, sure, especially since recently I haven’t gotten to hang out much with my sorority sisters. But I also wish that we could go back to being entirely scrambled, not simply having a few people overlap.

That’s also why I’m glad I went with a sorority that didn’t have a ton of girls I knew in it already – fresh blood, fresh conversations, fresh perspective. I feel like I’ll always be able to connect with my genuine friends from first term outside of that grouping, but it’s easier to have distinct and somewhat separate groups.

I’m starting to get restless again – as I regularly do – in terms of thinking I should be alone more. I’m not doing enough or exposing myself to enough people. My routine is relatively regular again. I wake up, go to class, come back and do homework right away (which I’m so proud of), nap, blog, work on student council, go to meetings, etc,. Spend the night doing homework and checking in on the guys during their initiation periods. Fall asleep talking.

Whenever I get close to someone, there’s a point when I have to resist the urge to totally ghost on them. Since when is it healthy to hang out every day for a week? Since when is it healthy to know so much already? What I should do is take a step back, go to sleep, write in a journal, be alone for a little while.

But I’m not good enough at policing myself, and my friends have told me that this urge is wholeheartedly illogical. It doesn’t exactly make sense to restrict myself on the basis of things being startlingly comfortable or good. (Not to psychoanalyze myself too heavily, but I punish myself for every way I don’t live up to my inflated expectations.) But I tend to restrict myself often anyways because I’m a stickler for self-restraint. Just really fighting the urge to become a little more unknown.

thoughts of the day – feb. 2

There are a few books and movies that I cite as my favorite, but forget exactly as time goes on. I assume I’ve seen them recently, and I haven’t. So nowadays, when I’m re-reading or re-watching them, I forget how profoundly they affect me and how stricken I am with feeling. Not just from the stories contained within them, but from the associations and pangs I carry with each layer of experience. It always makes me feel just a little bit more alive.

Sometimes I forget and text myself
-a picture
-a poem
-a reminder

I forget for a moment because I’m thinking of
-essays
-hopes
-endings

My heart leaps at the ping, the sound that’s
-blue
-familiar
-nothing