Things I have done today:
I must be getting sick or something of the sort, and I blame trying to go running the other day, which left me with a terrible cough and an itchy throat for a couple hours afterward. It’s a sign that I shouldn’t exercise. My attempt at running was pathetic considering I can dance four hours straight but can’t run for a tiny percent of that time.
Even though my attempts at exercising are pathetic, I did finish a poem today. I’ve been working on it for about a week starting from a random scribble in my notebook. Flipping through my notebook on a bus trip to Chicago, I was startled by it and wrote a note next to it.
Since high school, I have always worked well in crowded pretty noisy places, and now that I’m older and of drinking age, I do a fair amount of writing in bars along with the standard coffee shops. I really don’t mind it or people asking what I’m doing. When I write in iambic pentameter, I have to write out everything by hand and note all of the stresses, which uses a lot of paper, and I often get the question of what language I’m writing in. I guess it does look strange, and I suppose people are polite enough not to read what I’m writing to ask that question. I have heard from strangers that my handwriting looks neat but is impossible to read.
Lately, I’ve been writing sonnets, which is a little frustrating. I can’t stop it. Also, the blank verse lurks behind everything. I tried very hard to write a free verse poem (that was not a sonnet) but I decided to revise it into a sonnet. I think it’s much better. Reading it over later, I realized several of the lines were in iambic pentameter. Maybe I do need to get away.
Since the days are getting longer, sunlight fills my kitchen and living room in the afternoons and evenings, but instead of trying to read by the window, today I tried to take a nap because I haven’t been feeling well. I’ve been sneezing a lot. Maybe now I have allergies.
I really want to go an Amazon shopping spree, but I have been very good. I tried reserving books through the Ohio State library, but it wouldn’t work probably because I’m not a student until Spring Quarter. Maybe. It’s weird thinking that when I graduated, I didn’t really leave this city and this campus. I still took classes. It’s hard thinking about leaving. What do I want to do before I leave? I shouldn’t buy books because my friends would groan if they had to help me move all of them when I leave.
Late one night while writing at the bar, probably after work, I looked at a few scraps I had written, and after a week or so of work, it’s a sonnet. It’s not done, but it’s always hard writing about these things. The new blue dress. I’m not sure this is the right place for it. Is there ever a right place for it? People always say that you need to write it out. How can I? Writing it won’t get it out. Nothing will. I could put another memory in its place in this poem, but it’s the one that fits the best. I’ll probably never resolve this.
On the back of the Kenyon Review Writers’ Workshop shirt that I’m wearing (I only wear it around the house because it’s a little large) there’s a quote from Ernest Hemingway, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” For the poems I have been writing recently, I feel as though I crack open my heart (like an egg) and let everything inside it bleed into semi-intelligible words. I suppose that sounds melodramatic, but it’s in response to the Hemingway quote.
Tell me that there is something more to all this. Tell me love still exists.
Why did I do it? Because I’m selfish, and all I want in the world is this feeling that I can’t describe, something like predilection. Is that what I’m looking for? No. It doesn’t matter. It’s gone now. I knew this would happen. I have the memories, but are the memories enough? Isn’t this what I wanted?
This initial euphoric feeling of happiness and excitement has faded pretty quickly to worrying and trying to figure out my future. I realize that my time in Columbus might be coming to an end, but nothing is set in stone. I still have to hear back officially from 5 schools. When I say officially I mean a phone call, letter, or email telling me specifically I was rejected rather than the speculation in my mind that oh if I haven’t heard back by now I’m either on the wait list or rejected. The schools where I am on the wait list, I could be taken off. It’s only the end of February, and I still have time.
For some reason, my eggs taste like Old Bay, but I only seasoned them with salt and pepper. Is this is a sign that I should get some crab cakes?
At the same time, it doesn’t feel like I have very much time. I was thinking about how actually poor my decision was to see Florence + the Machine at the end of July when my lease will be up and I might have to move to another state, but if I were to go to Purdue, maybe I could move up the Lafayette on the 29th, see Florence + the Machine in Indianapolis, have someone take me to my car in Columbus, drive up to Cleveland, oh goodness this is very silly. Nothing is set in stone.
I have so much hope for everything, but I’m worried and scared. It feels so different from applying and deciding on my undergraduate university. I didn’t even visit Ohio State before I accepted. My decision came down to Ohio State and University of Washington because I didn’t want to stay in Maryland, and I chose Ohio State because of the scholarship and proximity to home. I didn’t want to live in an expensive city like Seattle, and I didn’t want to travel across the country to go home. My considerations for graduate school are more extensive.
How long is the program? How close is it to a major city? What is the size of the town in which it is located? What would my stipend be? Who are the poets? How large is the program?
I think living in Columbus over the past few years has made a larger city more appealing to me. I know anyplace with a college is going to have bars and coffee shops, but I would love a city with an atmosphere like Columbus, relaxed but very fun. When I think about it though, could I just be happy anywhere as long as I have a park to walk in with my dog, a coffee shop, someplace to dance (maybe if I ballroom danced again, I wouldn’t feel the urge to dance all the time), and a bar with PBR and whiskey coke, which is pretty much every bar.
Maybe I’m fearful of leaving Columbus because it is fairly difficult for me to make friends, and even though I know I can make new friends, I guess I don’t want to leave the friends I have. My professor made the point that by the time I start, a lot of my friends will be in their 3rd year. Some of my friends will be leaving very soon. Some of my friends will still be here.
But I can only see myself as a Buckeye, as silly as it sounds. I don’t want to go to another school’s football games. (If I could go to Ohio State, which isn’t in my hands anymore, then I could go to two more Michigan home games.) I don’t want to dance for another university. I feel like a silly child. I don’t have to give up my love for Ohio State when I go to another school. I don’t have to give up Columbus forever if I leave. What does this city really hold for me aside from security and familiarity? I think if I visited schools, then maybe I would feel less anxiety.
I wonder where I will be in a year.
Proof that today is a wonderful day: Florence + the Machine tickets for Cleveland on July 30th and an email acceptance to Purdue.
To say that I am happy and ecstatic is the understatement of the century. I had just taken my first bite of my lunch when I saw my acceptance email, and I half-screamed with excitement and half-choked on my food, picked up my dog and gave her a big hug, and ran around the couch three times. I thought about running outside on my back porch and screaming, “I’M GOING TO GRAD SCHOOL!” to the wind as it knocked over trash cans in the alley.
I am so excited for my future. The other day, I saw my professor, and he said that it’s still early in the notification season. Really, I am so relieved to have my first acceptance even though I don’t really know what will happen over the next few months, but I feel optimistic.
My summer is shaping up to be an exciting one–Kenyon Review Writers’ Workshop, Florence + the Machine, graduate school somewhere.
Today was a good day, and I spent most of it on campus. After the Q&A with Anne Stevenson, I went to get donuts with a couple people because last night I had a terrible craving for donuts but didn’t get any even though apparently I was supposed to meet my friends there. I must have missed that memo as I was leaving The Library. Anyways, I always make the mistake of getting powdered donuts (always fruit filled) when I’m wearing black (which is nearly every day), so I had powdered sugar all over me.
I was able to get some work done, but revising poems is a slow going process. I’m working on a blank verse poem, and I’ve discovered that taking stuff out and moving things around has moved my lines around all funny so some of the lines that I loved aren’t really there anymore. I just need to work harder. Whine whine whine. So much revising to do!
For lunch, I biked to meet my friend, which was really nice. I think our lunches are turning into a weekly thing, which is good because I don’t know what I’ll do when we aren’t taking class together.
I love this cool weather because I don’t get so sweaty riding my bike. I like the crisp wind.
Tonight, I’m going to try and do some more revising, and tomorrow, I think I’m going to do work all day. I should write an actual journal entry because I haven’t written one in a while, which is probably a product of trying not to think too hard about things.
I’m trying not to worry so much. I don’t remember everything I said.
So, as I predicted, I didn’t go to the gym today because when I woke up, my legs were killing me, and my right hip was hurting, which is incredibly concerning to me because my mother’s side of the family has hip problems. I probably should get my hip looked at now because I do have some right hip and right knee discomfort (everything on my right side has weird aches–wrist, shoulder, back, hip, knee), and I’m only 23. It’s been on my mind a lot recently. Death isn’t often on my mind just because if I die suddenly, well there isn’t much I can do about that. Anyways, if I were to die accidentally anytime soon, I’ve had a pretty amazing life so far, but I am kind of bummed that if I were to die, I don’t have a body of work in existence. I guess dying would be a bummer. I’ve had so many wonderful experiences and met so many wonderful people.
But this isn’t about me because I’m not so concerned about my own death. This is the first time that I’m really confronted with the possibility of a death of a loved one. I can’t wrap my head around the possibility of a death so close, and I can’t imagine the aftermath. I suppose I’m overthinking it because it might not even be a possibility and the whole situation is months away, but I always prepare for the worst case scenarios or try to. Putting myself through this train of thought is difficult, but anything can happen. This is too personal.
Searching on Google for “how to prevent hip problems” turns up a lot of results for how to prevent hip dysplasia in dogs.
Anyways, even though I didn’t go to the gym, I did do some strenuous bike riding because I had to pick up a book from the library and I wanted to get some reading done so I overloaded my bag with books. As I was biking home, I really regretted it because I’m certain I looked pathetic pedaling down the street (not to add I turned around like 3 times because I was indecisive when I was leaving class. I’m going to go home. I’m really craving some French fries. Where can I go? Oh, that’s back the way I just came.) with this huge bag full of books. Not to add, it was Christmas in class so my professor was handing out books, journals, and magazines, so I acquired some more paper to weigh weigh me down.
Class was okay. We went over the poem I was struggling with, which was fine. I knew going into it that it wasn’t my best work, and reading over it after I submitted it, I grimaced knowing that it was the product of too many sleepless nights. I did get some good feedback, which was overwhelming. I’m still uncertain of what I’m doing, and I don’t know if things work. One of my friends said that she was jealous of the ending because we’ve talked about how difficult it is to end a poem, and her comment blew my mind because I knew that the ending wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I guess it works, but I know I can make it better.
I have been obsessed with “Couple From Hell” by Craig Arnold from Made Flesh. There aren’t any good excerpts on the internet that I’ve found so far. At least, I can’t find the excerpts that make my heart ache.
Surprisingly, looking over the comments on my poem, a lot of people didn’t understand what was going on and a lot of details even though the poem was titled “Persephone.” I sort of assumed the story/myth of Persephone was common knowledge because I have distinctive memories of going over the story of Ceres in 5th grade because someone asked if the word “cereal” came from Ceres since she was the goddess of grains.
Actually, this is incredibly depressing if you think about it because the association isn’t with grains as a crop but probably grains at the bottom of the food pyramid. The disassociation between food and where it comes from. Back then we had a food pyramid. I guess it could be just a child trying to make the connection between something not really tangible (mythology) to something in his or her everyday life (cereal).
I also remember going over mythology in 7th grade when we talked about Demeter. We had quizzes about the Greek names and the Roman names of the gods and goddesses. Then, in college I took Classics 222, and I can understand that not everyone has taken a college level introduction to mythology. I guess since I have such strong memories of learning about it in grade school that I thought it was common knowledge, but I should have known that my experience is not everyone’s.
I think this is a situation where I just realize that I can’t write a poem that everyone understands. If you don’t know about the Homeric Hymn to Demeter or the story of Persephone, I don’t think it’s possible to understand this poem, and it’s very strange because up until now I haven’t written a poem on a story that isn’t sort of unique. I feel sort of wary about it because people have been writing about this story for thousands of years, and a lot of people have done a much better job than I can ever dream of doing (ie Craig Arnold’s “Couple from Hell” and Louise Gluck’s poems in “Averno” such as “Persephone the Wanderer” and “Myth of Innocence“). What can I possibly contribute? This poem is ambitious, and I really want to include it in my portfolio. I need to bust my butt this next month revising it.
Hopefully, tonight I can sleep. It’s Halloween this weekend, and I’m not really trying to worry or think about it. There’s a dance party on Saturday that I’m planning to go to, but other than that, I wonder if I should just step back and take time to myself. I might not even get to wear my costume because I’m not planning to wear it to the dance party.
The light was green, so I stepped into the road. A car was coming. You jerked me back.
No progress. Oops. It wasn’t my fault I swear. I intended to print out a bunch of stuff and send them away and then work on stuff, but my student ID is so old and broken and bent that it couldn’t be read. Tomorrow, I’ll need to get a new ID.
I’m eating some picked green beans that I bought while I was in Cincinnati, and I like them quite a bit.
For my poem this week, I revised a previous poem into blank verse, which was very different from the original form, and we went over it in workshop. I think I need bring the two versions together more, but it’s an incredibly frustrating process. It doesn’t help that I’m trying to revise 3 other poems, and I’m stuck on all of them. It’s such a slow process. Revising is so difficult for me, but I’m getting better.
I am so excited about everything, and while it is long and frustrating and time consuming, I constantly feel so hopeful. Maybe if I pour my heart into all of my work, they’ll be able to see it in my words and these admissions people will accept me.
I don’t have grand hopes of instantly becoming a fantastic writer and coming out of a program and landing a job. I have hopes of being better and creating words that matter.
My words are all I have to give.
Getting together things for my applications has been so stressful. I’ve notified all of the people filling out my recommendations, which has been an ordeal since every application is different. Some of them I had to fill out the application form and others I had to find the recommendation section. On top of that, I had to deal with systems that made me change my password every single time because it was messed up and then others that just wouldn’t let me log in period. I need to really finish up this application process within the next month because I don’t want to deal with any of it anymore. Even still, I had to search high and low and send out emails for paper recommendations, which really isn’t that difficult but difficult enough that I don’t know what I would do without the internet.
It’s nice because some of the forms are already complete, and I can really see the progress toward being done the application process, which is exciting and terrifying. I still have to write a lot of statements and edit a lot of poems, but I’m making progress. Tomorrow, I’ll fill out a lot of envelopes and forms, and then I’ll start figuring out which poems are done, which seems like an impossible task because I don’t think any of them are done. I need to finish up final revisions so I can at least feel like I’m sending out the right stuff.
I’m so hopeful.
Bad Sara for not writing more on life. I haven’t touched my journal in a couple of days, and I haven’t really written on my blog. It’s okay.
This weekend was overly social, and I was sort of burnt out by all of it on Saturday. Wednesday evening I went to Bodega after work. It was a beautiful night. On Thursday, I went to a reading and then to the bar afterward, which was fun, but I am so terribly socially awkward. I didn’t expect my best friend to come, so when she did show up, I was so excited and happy. We put songs on the jukebox. (I’m not a thief.) Friday, I went to Heatwave, which was a lot of fun. I wish more people ballroom danced, and I wish I were better at dancing. Then, on Saturday I worked, worked on a poem, briefly went to a housewarming party, and then went back to writing. By the time I was at the party, I wasn’t really in the mood to socialize or hang out even with my closest friends because I was so stressed out about writing and writing and writing.
I’m not sure what I think about the poem. I’m not sure what I think about anything. I guess I’ll see tomorrow.
At Heatwave, I knew so many people, which was a strange and bizarre feeling. I’m not the type of person who knows a million people even though I’ve been in this city for 5 years. A lot of the people I once knew don’t live here anymore. Either way, it was a strange feeling looking around and seeing all these people I knew. I have a lot of really great friends, but I don’t have a lot of friends. I felt like I was surrounded by a lot of great friends.
Today, I had a lunch with one of my friends, and throughout our conversation about school, poetry, and life, I kept thinking, “This is without a doubt the life I want to live.”
After taking my time getting out of the house, I went to a coffee shop in the attempt to get some writing done. Reading through old notes scribbled on a page produced no inspiration or ideas, but there was one note that made absolutely no sense to me.
Things without an H
hat at
hair air
Normally, I can recall why I wrote something down (ie. asparagus), but I can’t figure that one out or why I wrote it.
So now I’m reading through my old journals with the hope that some thought or memory will trigger something.
MWF French 101 CC246 1030-1148
MW PoliSci 541 SM1005 1230-218
TR PoliSci 550 SO0004 1130-118
January 12, 2009: I have never felt that way when dancing with anyone…I love salsa dancing…
March 14, 2009: In all honesty, last night was certainly without a doubt my first real date and my first first date, which makes me smile because my friend and I were talking about how weird it was that I’ve been in love and had all these long invested relationships but no first date.
March 20, 2009: I’m waiting to board my plane to New York. It is slightly delayed. Even though I’m here at the airport with bags packed, I don’t really feel like I’m leaving. I don’t feel like I’m going to Madrid.
March 24, 2009: We went to a bar. They got this wine and coke drink, but I couldn’t really taste it since I’m sick. The bar was super tiny and crowded…Later, we went to a discoteca. I talked to one of her friends from Switzerland. It was interesting because we talked in a combination of French, Spanish, and English. We danced a little bit. As the night went on, the music switched to American songs like I Kissed a Girl, Disturbia, and Single Ladies.
My friend offered to walk me home, but I declined being relatively competent in cities. I figured I could make it two blocks back to my apartment, and I felt bad since he had to walk back to his place. When the door to the building was closing, a man pushed the door open and followed me in. I went up the stairs, and at the first floor, he grabbed me saying something in Spanish…
The next day we went to the police station to file a report. It was okay, and now I have an interesting souvenir. I had a lot of interesting experiences. It was the first time getting into a scuffle. The first time someone has physically hurt me. First time in a police car. First time in a police station.
All in all, I’m pretty proud of myself for being capable of fending off a mugger. Yes, I was pretty dependent on my friend to walk me to and from home a lot for the rest of the trip, but I feel kind of independent to be able to function and protect myself in 4.5 inch heels.
March 28, 2009: We went to the Prado. Overall, I liked the museum a lot, but my favorite part was the Francis Bacon exhibit.
The train to Valladolid was a large relatively modern train, but to Carbajales de Alba was about two cars long and at least 10 years old. The conductor was slightly surprised that we were going there. When we came to the stop, the conductor let us know and opened the door. An abandoned train station greeted us.
I had seen on Google Maps that the town was a bit away from the train tracks. The sun was already going down, but it was daylight when we started walking. We passed cows grazing in stone pens with cowbells. It was dark by the time we made it to town.
We went to the bar to get some food. We stuck out because we were the youngest people there by about 30 to 40 years, and then, I’m Asian. The woman said they had some tapas. The food was amazing. I had the best food I’ve ever had in Spain and the best cafe con leche ever.
We walked back to the train station in the night guided by the flashing red and white lights of the wind turbines. It was a really long and cold night.
On the way back to Valladolid, we fell asleep on the train, much to the dismay of most of the elderly passengers, but I was too tired to process it.
English 202 MQ161 MW 1130-118
History 515.02 BE198 TR 930-1118
Art 300.02 HK 211 TR 1130-118 CM 200 R130-2218
April 8, 2009: My hands reek of butter, which smells good, but it’s kind of gross. There’s icing on the inside of my right sleeve.
April 12, 2009: I’ve fallen in love with Vienna Teng’s new album Inland Territory. My favorite song is “Kansas”…I think it’s simply a matter of time before he breaks my heart too.
April 22, 2009: I burned myself twice at work today taking brownies out of the oven and onto the speed rack.
May 6, 2009: My arm is covered in cupcake batter.
May 28, 2009: I had an interview today for a front of house position. She said I would have to take out my lip ring while I was working. I was super confused, and then I realized she was talking about my mole. Haha. Oh well.
June 20, 2009: I’m back in Columbus with my car and a dog.
July 15, 2009: I have been reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower. There is a quote that struck me when I read it. “We accept the love we think we deserve.” I had seen it before through PostSecret, but reading it in the book was different because of the context. I suppose it struck me because I realized why I tolerated the relationships I had. I thought it was what I deserved.
July 27, 2009: This past weekend we went to a party where I ate icing from a tube and danced. There was a kid there who salsa danced with me doing tons of dips.
I’ve been feeling weird lately. I told my friend that I saw on Facebook that he was married. Apparently, he’s actually married, but he’s only known her for two months. I just didn’t understand any of it.
August 7, 2009: My favorite part about flying is the ability to see the roads and buildings you know from a different perspective. I saw the construction for 95 at 695 from above. I know that road. I’m right above my mom’s office, and I can trace the road to the Ft. McHenry Tunnel. That’s the road that would take me home. I know the area so well. Will another place truly be home if I can’t trace the roads from above?
September 3, 2009: Almost a year has passed since I first got this notebook. So much has changed. Who would have thought that I would be here now sitting in my apartment alone with a dog. When I first bought this Moleskine, I was one day from twenty. In ten days, I’ll be 21. I wonder where I’ll be in a year. I wonder who I’ll be in a year. I wonder if I can find someone to love me. I wonder if I’ll be heart broken again.
February 2, 2006: I lost my old journal. I am 17.
February 16, 2006: On Valentine’s Day, I went to see the PostSecret exhibit at the American Visionary Museum with my friend.
April 9, 2006: I’ve spent the past few days visiting Ohio State. It was weird visiting the school with the knowledge that I’ll be spending the next four years of my life there.
April 27, 2006: I got my ears pierced on Saturday with my mom.
September 11, 2009: It’s two days from my 21st birthday and 3 years since I’ve written anything in this notebook. People change, but the words and memories written on these pages never will even though it’s faded in my mind. It seems the time around my birthday is the time to start again in a journal.
I thought about ripping out the pages before this one because I was appalled at my immaturity and my terrible and awkward handwriting, but that was the person I used to be. There’s no way to change that.
I might like butter way too much.
September 15, 2009: So my birthday has come and gone with little interest except for an awesome game and loss on Saturday to USC, my first trip to Out R Inn, and work all day.
September 23, 2009: In the back of the Moleskine, I have two senior portrait wallet cards or whatever. It’s sort of interesting or fitting I suppose for the start of my senior year of college.
Today I bought a $14.25 book for $4.54.
October 12, 2009: I am, as Hardy described Tess, happier than I have ever been in my life. I feel silly for being so happy because I’m generally quite level headed about these things, but I can’t help but be happy. I wonder where I’ll be in a year.
October 15, 2009: We went to Mac’s where I had an embarrassing episode shoveling onion rings into my mouth.
October 20, 2009: I was putting some bags in my car when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I looked up to see my neighbor and two women walking up the stairs. I paid little attention, but little did I know, I was most likely the last person to see them before they were shot. Luckily, I wasn’t home during the shooting. For some reason, my roommate didn’t hear the shooting, but apparently, my neighbor shot his mother and his sister. My roommate texted me saying there were paramedics at our apartment building.
November 23, 2009: This past week was Ohio Star Ball, which was a ton of fun. We were called back for Foxtrot, Jive, America Cha Cha, and Rumba.
He said that I had been rather distant as of late, but I guess I’ve been incredibly stressed lately.
November 28, 2009: This past week was Thanksgiving. It was nice except Maddy made a mess of herself. On Thursday, she ran through the mud puddles chasing the ducks. Later, she got herself tangled in a ton of burrs. She was a wonderful dog the entire time. After dinner on Thanksgiving, she fell asleep on my chest, and yesterday afternoon, she slept on his chest while he was reading.
December 27, 2009: I’m running out of days in December, this year, this decade.
December 29, 2009: I went home with him for Christmas, or, as I’ll call it from now on, Maddymas! It sounds a thousand times better–Merry Maddymas!
I’m impressed with my ability to love. I never knew I could love so much, but knowing that I can is a wonderful feeling.
February 22, 2010: He said he hoped that I didn’t write angry poems about him. I haven’t yet because I don’t think I’ve ever really been angry at him. He hasn’t left me.
February 25, 2010: It doesn’t feel like this is temporary. I’m running out of pages in this notebook.
March 10, 2010: This past weekend was the Arnold Classic. We had call backs in every dance except mambo and foxtrot. If I continue dancing, I want to work on Latin and Standard. This notebook is almost finished. I’m apathetic about life.
March 18, 2010: I feel as though I’ve been propelled into the past. I went to The Library to meet people for drinks. At some point, my friend and I went to the jukebox.
The past few months, I’ve buried the memories to the point that it seems as though it was another lifetime. I’m not sure I have come to terms with everything last year.
no date (December 2007): I bought this at a paper store in St. Helena, and this book is probably overpriced. I’m in seat 21D, window on an exit row. My Campers are nearly destroyed now since I wear them to work so they’re crusted in pizza sauce. The soles are so worn.
March 26, 2010: Last night it snowed. I’m on Spring Break. There is no break for me.
March 29, 2010: I feel like I’m limiting myself quite a bit. I’m not entirely sure I’m doing the right thing. I need to figure out my life.
April 2, 2010: The weather is beautiful, but it’s nearly too hot. I wish it were different.
April 12, 2010: I don’t think I’m ready to leave Columbus.
April 19, 2010: I thought the first time I saw him that he wouldn’t be interested in me. I’m not his type. What a disaster. I miss the way he holds me.
May 5, 2010: I haven’t written much lately. I have been avoiding it for better or for worse. I don’t know. I bought a bike yesterday.
May 13, 2010: I guess I’ve been avoiding everything. If I were to title the little I’ve written in this journal, it would be “My Life is a Disaster.”
It’s strange. Everyone said that I was very brave to confront him, but I don’t feel brave nor strong. I feel empty, very empty.
May 18, 2010: I strained my wrist. I shouldn’t be writing probably. On Sunday I could hardly lift a coffee mug.
June 4, 2010: I’ve been reading this poem a lot lately. I guess it is just too perfect for me right now.
June 9, 2010: I hope he isn’t just because I feel that he is a better person than that, but I don’t know.
June 22, 2010: It’s been two months now, which is a strange thought. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I guess I’m realizing how much of a person I actually am. Maybe I’m starting to come to terms with it.
I got my haircut. My bangs are a little short.
July 7, 2010: This past week has been incredibly difficult. I’ve been intending to write about it, but I’m not really sure I can. I cut off my hair. I miss it, but my hair did nothing for me. It didn’t define me as a person. It’s strange how little consideration I really give my appearance. It’s strange how little opinion I have. I don’t care about my hair cut. It’s just my hair. It’s just hair.
The day before my hair cut, Friday [July 2], I felt my absolute lowest. All day until I cut my hair, I was a disaster, and I was working.
I need to be stronger, but being strong is difficult. Maybe when everything is different (my hair, my house, my future) I can be the person I want to be.
August 30, 2010: It’s strange that this month is almost over because I feel as though it has passed without notice. I suppose that’s fine, and I really don’t mind. I’m done with this month, with summer, with this, and I really feel that the changing month will help.
Things are better than they have been. I can’t make someone love me. I learned that long ago.
I’m excited to go to San Francisco. I think I really need this break. I think doing different things will be nice.
September 2, 2010: I’m flying with Maddy to San Francisco. It hasn’t been as bad as I imagined it would, but I always fear the absolute worst (ie. Maddy jumping out of my arms going through security). I’m lacking in leg room, which sucks, but that’s not awful.
September 17, 2010: I came to Chicago on a whim even though I’m broke. Since I wasn’t scheduled to work this week, I decided to go.
September 30, 2010: Reading over my previous entries has been so hard. I want to be better person. I hope I can be. I hope I am a better person now.
October 5, 2010: Yesterday, I was completely overwhelmed by how wonderful my life is, which is so strange. Everything was so awful and depressing for so long, and now I see how happy I am and how exciting each day is. I’m incredibly happy.
All of this came barreling out of nowhere with no warning.
October 20, 2010: I saw him running, but he didn’t see me on the street. It was like the scene from the falling episode of Radiolab, and I understand perfectly.
November 17, 2010: Since coming back from Chicago, I’ve pretty much been incredibly tired. After the Penn State game, I went to a dinner party gluten free style.
November 19, 2010: It’s a long list of guys to make a girl bitter. Look at you, Sara. All kinds of bitter. How embarrassing. 22 and bitter.
December 9, 2010: I’m tired, and I don’t know how I got through this past week. I don’t think I failed any of my finals. I’m definitely worn down after working 40 hours and super stressing over my classes. I’m glad I’m done. I hope my portfolio was acceptable.
December 14, 2010: I’m nearing the end of this journal, and I wonder what monstrous change awaits me.
I ran into him Christmas shopping, which was incredibly awkward and difficult seeing him and talking to him. It was so hard because there were so many things I wanted to say and ask, but I didn’t and couldn’t. I guess the memories are still heavy for me. I wonder if he thinks of me, but I guess it doesn’t matter if he does. It was strange and almost surreal. I felt rattled as I walked away.
December 24, 2010: I didn’t really finish the last entry in the last journal. I meant to but didn’t particularly care about it. I guess I’m still not comfortable dwelling on it. I’m not prepared to really think about it even though I should just get over my life.
I am without a doubt the happiest I have been in months.
There are a lot of things I want to tell him, but I’m not sure any of it matters.
December 25, 2010: Today is Maddymas. She’s sitting in my lap and awkwardly resting her head on the table. It’s rainy in San Francisco, but I’m okay with it. I’m determined to do as much reading as possible while I’m here.
March 8, 2011: I haven’t written in here in quite a bit, at least not a proper entry. I’m slightly concerned I’m thinking too far into the future.
June 13, 2011: Why am I writing in cursive? I really don’t know. In my mind, I want to be able to write in cursive. Really, I don’t see the point, but I do think about my words much more–the spelling, how to shape each letter. Right now, it’s an exercise in a lot of thinking because it’s not natural How much work for just a few lines of words.
Lately, I’ve been lost in my memories. In all honesty, it’s paralyzing.
July 11, 2011: One day, I’ll write about what really matters, but for now I’m avoiding it because I always run away. I always run. always run away. Why?
July 12, 2011: It seems that I haven’t even been entirely truthful even in my journal. I used to confess everything in these notebooks. Maybe I am hesitant knowing that they are a record of everything I have done. I guess it really doesn’t matter because no one is perfect, and I really don’t want to be perfect anyways. That would be boring. I do feel bad for anyone attempting to decipher my handwriting, especially now that I’m trying to write in cursive. By the time anyone is unfortunate to try and read this, I’m sure nearly no one will know how.
The rain started as a sigh, and I could see the rain falling in the light of the streetlights. Streetlights is a good word. Maybe I can’t write anything substantial in cursive.
July 13, 2011: I don’t want to write about it. I only write about things that aren’t relevant, and it’s frustrating. What am I so scared about? The truth? The lies? Maybe the silence–the words unsaid are still lies? A silent lie? Does the truth matter? Always back to the truth. Maybe that’s why I like writing poetry, but it’s not really like I know why.
What is the truth that I want to know?
What is the truth that matters to me?
Will I ever know?
What is the truth I want to share?
What truth is important?
Will I ever know?
July 16, 2011: I’m not sure how I feel about everything. I think all the thoughts for the past year are catching up to me, and honestly, I’m not sure what to do with them…about them…
What will make this go away? I’m not sure I can write through this. I like to deal with things, think about them, and then write. So what do I do now?
I wish my words were enough.
July 17, 2011: I miss the girl I was, but I don’t know who she is. There’s one photo where I think I look completely beautiful. I don’t think I’ll ever look like that ever again. Does it matter?
July 22, 2011: Lately, I’ve been feeling really good. I think the only way I could be feeling better is if I started dancing again. I want to dance again. I miss it so much.
July 31, 2011: It’s weird feeling sort of lonely. I guess I’m tired of connecting with people on the surface. I want to connect more.
August 10, 2011: I remember the horses snorting and startling me, walking through the sand, and laying on the bench looking up at the stars. Jupiter bright behind us. I dared to wade into the water holding my no longer new blue dress up to my hips and tilting my head up to see the stars. Stupid sentimental stars. I never want to forget it. Will I remember just because I wrote it down? I guess only time will tell because if I forget remembering it, then it won’t matter. Just another trivial thing that doesn’t really matter in life, that doesn’t really make a difference.
August 23, 2011: Screw being a modern woman. I want men to offer me cigarettes and light them for me.
I need to just figure things out. I should just do my own thing for a while. That made me happy last year.
August 26, 2011: I’m finishing the last pages of this notebook, which means that something will change, and I hope it’s for the better. I don’t think this year has been all that bad. 22 has been a good year, at least way better than 21, and it’s almost fall, which seems like the time for beginnings. I’m ready.
This notebook is filled with the new direction my life has taken this past year–poetry, independence, and so much hope. I can only hope this all gets better because I feel like I’m trying to begin a new journey or a new step. I’ll end this here…my heart is pounding. I’m so hopeful.
This weekend has been one of the best weekends in recent memory. I went down to Cincinnati to visit a couple of friends with the intention of going to the Midpoint Music Festival, but instead, we just hung out the entire time, which was really nice. It’s weird because it’s not as though I don’t have friends. I do. I have a lot of really great friends, but spending a lot of time with two good friends I haven’t seen in a while is different.
When I got to Cincinnati, we went to eat in Over the Rhine close to a lot of the venues for the festival, so there was a lot of really good people watching. A man sped down the street on a Segway. Someone smashed a cupcake into his friend’s face. The food was amazing at Lavomatic.
The next day, we went to Covington to eat burritos at Lime. It probably would have been better on a sunny day because there was a lot of really nice outdoor seating. I really liked the burrito. I would like to go back to Covington to explore more because there seemed to be some interesting coffee shops and restaurants. From there we went to Newport to watch a movie before heading back for dinner and then Beerfest at Fries Cafe. It was incredibly crowded, but I had fun tasting beers. I also met up with a person I met at Sewanee, which was really nice. We were able to catch up a little bit.
I had a relatively short stay in Cincinnati, but I really enjoyed my time there. I think it was one of my best visits, and I ate so much good food. Being in a different place was a nice break from life as of late. I feel slightly lost and confused in my own thoughts, which isn’t necessarily helpful.
When I came back to Columbus, I met with my professor, which was really nice. We talked about graduate schools a little bit. I’m not really sure what I want to do anymore. I know I still want to apply for MFA programs, but I’m reconsidering my enormous list of schools. A lot of people say that it’s good to apply to several schools in case I get rejected, but I think I need to focus it a little bit more. It’s a lot to think about.
My class starts on Tuesday, which I am tremendously excited about. I want to be back on campus. I want to be in school.
My heart feels heavy. How do you live with the person you are?
