Teen pregnancy

I was in Borders today and I was perusing the romance section looking for the right thing to rekindle my love of reading. Looking at the row of young adult books behind me were two girls blathering on about 'Edward and Bella'. Finally one of them said, "let me just look at a couple more books, then we can go look at pregnancy books." The other responded, "Good idea, maybe they can give you ideas on how to dress to hide it for longer."
I was just stunned. I mean, I know teen pregnancy exists. I even witnessed it with several girls in my high school, but these two girls just looked so young. I guess that when I was their age, it wouldn't have seemed like such a big deal but now that I'm no longer a teen, its a little more shocking. I understand the urgency in all the PSAs now.
Sometimes I even feel nostalgic about those high school days, gossiping about the girls who were having sex. Getting our kicks from hearing about those of the faster girls. Jealousy mixed with contempt.
Goodnight Sweet Blogverse, tonight you leave me mulling the life of this young fetus.

Growing Up

I've been struggling a lot with the question of what to do next year. There are moments that I just know that I'm meant to go to Tennessee. That I need to grow and change alone. But today, I was researching apartments and life down there and I realized that there will be many more bugs. Such a small thing, but if it could throw my mind off it's course, could that mean that I was looking for a reason to change my mind. Do I want to stay here, in the cold, in the familiar, where I have so much family. Is what I've been searching for really right here? There is no real answer to that question. Certainly Tennessee would be an adventure, but there could be adventure found within myself. There was one day last fall when I drove to the coast and spent the day alone. It was wonderful and refreshing. Maybe I'll take a weekend trip. Make a real adventure.
Goodnight Sweet Blogverse.

ps. some people are meant for small lives.

Insomnia

Okay, so I didn't cut my hair. I was very close, I even left for work early so I'd have time to stop and get it done. Work was pretty awful, but short. I got some Chinese for dinner, which was a bad idea, but tasted delicious at the time. And now, six hours later, I can't sleep because I'm afraid that the food gave me salmonella. Or just some kind of food poisoning. My stomach is still and I'm too nervous to sleep. So I'm sitting here eating oyster crackers and blogging. I don't really even know why I bother to blog. It's clear that no one is reading, but it's an absolution of sorts. I've never been the type to put my blog url in my aim profile, so I know that none of my worthless friends are reading. I think that instead of complaining about nothing I'm going to tell my hypothetical readers about Melissa.
Melissa and I were both part of a group of friends from Freshman year of college on the chemical free floor. We all signed a contract saying that we wouldn't drink or do drugs, at risk of being kicked off campus with one offense. So we were a group of 18 year old geeks with almost nothing in common. The group also consisted of Brittany (Melissa's roommate), Jessica (my roommate), and Franklin and Mike (roommates :-)). There were others on the floor, but none that we regularly spend time with. Out of the entire group I had the least in common with Melissa, and I liked her the least, but I put up with her because everyone else seemed to like her well enough. Well Freshman year went without much trouble at all, and the six of us were friends until the end of the year. Well five of us returned to school the next year, and Brit transferred back to a local college and lived at home.
Jess and Melissa were roommates that year, and I was placed with a random roommate named Laura. Franklin and Mike stayed together. At that point several new girls entered our group, I won't bother to name them because they're all interchangeable as far as this story goes. Fall semester went by poorly for me, well for the rest. Melissa was instrumental in making me feel uncomfortable as part of the group. She made snide remarks, and I'm sure she spread rumors. So I made a few new friends and didn't rely so much on the 'group'.
That spring I moved to a new dorm, and stayed friendly with the group but not close. Laura and I also remained friends. When the group no longer had me to scapegoat, they turned to Melissa. She wasn't tough enough to deal with it though. Finally she found out how everyone felt about her and had a break down. Jessica (who remains my best friend to this day), told me what had happened and I felt somehow responsible; like if I hadn't left, they never would have turned on Melissa. So I befriended her again, and she never really apologized for her behavior that fall, but she acknowledged it which was enough for me. We were friendly for the rest of the semester and planned to be roommates the following year. We even signed up for the room together. About a month after school ended I decided to live at home, my parents were going through some money troubles and I told Melissa that was the reason.
The summer passed, she and I didn't talk, but it wasn't awkward. Finally, about a week before school was to start I got a letter that was sent to all commuters saying that there was room on campus. I called the office and asked for a single in the building that Melissa and I were going to be living in and by a miracle I got one. The largest singles in the coolest building on campus, I was ecstatic! I told Melissa that my grandparents were paying for it (I think, I might have said that my dad was working again, which was half true, he had never stopped working just gone down to half time). She and I fought several times that fall, and I mostly spent time with Jessica, who had become an RA, and the rest of the group. I can't recall if I had a falling out with Jessica or if I was just lonely but somehow I ended up hanging out with Melissa and her friends that spring, one of whom was Laura, my sophomore roommate, the other of whom was Manda, a crazy girl who was loads of fun. The four of us spent a lot of time together, drinking (all of them were 21, but I wasn't yet), watching movies, eating tons of Ben and Jerrys, or just sitting on the floor of Laura's room doing homework and watching American Idol. It was a wonderful time in my life, and I felt for once like I had a real clique of girlfriends. Like Sex and the City. One time, Melissa got asked out on a blind date and brought me for his friend. It was crazy, and not fun at all, the guy was really slow. But after we left the pool hall, we went through the McDonald's drivethrough and asked the guy at the window how to get somewhere, he said he didn't know how to get there but that he could sing to us. We said no thanks, but five minutes later we drove back and asked him to sing. He sang Backstreet Boys and we sang along, even though neither of us is into pop music. It was one of those amazing unforgetable nights that you have stories out of for years to come.
Towards the end of spring, Melissa, Laura, and I decided to get an apartment together. Actually I was something of a last minute addition as they had been planning for long before I had started to spend time with them. I did most of the work, researching apartments and setting up appointments to view them, I emailed the leasing agent, at the place we decided on, several times a day for weeks until we got everything straightened around. The three of us decided to share a two bedroom, which was probably not the best of ideas in hindsight, but both of them had large families and were used to such things. Melissa and I ended up in the room together, and Laura had her own bedroom. For a couple of weeks we got along great, they were great friends to me when my father got remarried a mere month after my mother divorced him, and when I had to go the wedding reception they would have let my date stay over even though they're both deeply religious (he and I stayed at my mothers). But after a little over a month, I couldn't handle it anymore. I did not enjoy rooming with Melissa.
She and I tried to hang out and be friendly, we even got a cat together. Several days after that I had a nervous breakdown and moved back in with my father and his new wife. I went over and told Melissa, after a long sustaining talk with my best male friend. Jessica was at the apartment, thank goodness, and she already knew what was happening. It was a bad day. We both cried, and she got angry and I got defensive. I didn't handle the situation in the best way possible because I knew I was wrong and was on the defensive even more. I called my dad and told him that I needed to get all my stuff out that day. He came through and we moved everything out that afternoon. Laura came home as I was leaving and she took the news a lot better. She agreed to take the cat, even though Melissa said she didn't want him, and we have reamained friends. Melissa hugged me and said that she didn't have many friends and didn't want to lose me as one. I agreed and thought that all was well. I paid the rent for another 2 and a half months, even for that last month when they had found a new roommate and they pocketed the money. But Melissa apparantly wasn't happy with that.
She 'unfriended' me on facebook (which is basically a diss), and told one member of the 'group' that we were no longer friends because I had 'backstabbed her twice'. Now I don't know what the second time was, and she and Laura managed to find a roommate, and Laura is fine with me. That was last summer, she still hasn't contacted me and I think that this time our friendship is over for good. As frustrating as it is, I wish that she and I could have stayed civil even if she can't trust me anymore. As it is, I was out almost two thousand dollars on my security deposit, and the three months rent, plus the costs of the cat, which Melissa and Laura didn't help with. And so that's the story of Melissa, former friend, 'backstab-ee', lunatic.
Anyway, I hope that spending that hour typing out that incredibly long story, which no one will ever read has cured this insomnia and stomach pain.
Good Night Sweet Blogverse, may you never be screwed over by someone like me.

Haircuts

I've been thinking about cutting my hair a lot. I saw some old pictures of a friend of mine who used to have long hair, and when she cut it she got so much prettier. Her features are more striking than mine but we're similar in most other respects. I've been trying to grow out my hair for ages and now I'm realizing that I don't have the time to display it well. The result is a bun every single day. I'm really unsure of what to do about the whole situation. I know that I'll regret it if I cut my hair, but it might be a lot easier to deal with and it might make my face look better. Another consideration is, I read a book once that was called 'Nice Girls Don't Get the Corner Office'. One of the tips was to lose the locks. It puts male bosses in the thought of young girls, who don't deserve promotions. Anyway, I'll let you all know what I decide, it's just been weighing on my mind a lot.
Good Morning Sweet Blogverse!

Sororities

I'm getting ready to go to sleep tonight (exceedingly early) because I have GMATs tomorrow, but outside my window there is a large group of girls rushing a sorority and chanting and shouting indecipherable words. It's annoying, it's frustrating, and it's jealousy provoking.
Now just let me say, if I wanted to join a sorority I would have done it by now. Freshman year I had a friend who joined a sorority and Sophomore year when she quit, she told me all the crazy things they made her do while she was pledging. Ridiculous things like walking in circles blindfolded while chanting the credo or whatever, being shouted at, having water pistols fired at you. I would never put myself through that. But every now and then I'm envious of the lifestyle. Here it is Thirsty Thursday, my roommate has big plans for the night, clearly all of the sorority girls have big plans, the frats are all having parties; and I'll be asleep by 7:30.
Now I love my life, and I'd never trade, but sometimes it would be nice to have a wild weekend planned. Instead of going to parties once in a great while, it would be cool to not have any plans and know someone would call me up five minutes before they left and invite me along. The only time that I ever have that life is when I'm visiting other people. I visited a friend of mine at his school, and the only expectation that we had for the weekend was crazy drunkenness. What happened pretty much fit the bill. But so much more. He called some friends and we went for some girls birthday dinner, that neither of us had met before, then we went to a Chinese restaurant for fancy drinks, then we went to a dive and proceeded to get wasted. I don't remember the two of us stumbling up the stairs, but I remember his arm around my waist, helping me into the car. That one night exemplifies what my expectation of college life was. My reality is more along the lines of drinking a gin and tonic alone, then falling into bed when most people haven't even left for the bars.
Well, sweet blogverse, the g&t is calling my name. Good Night.

Supplements

Lately I've been taking daily supplements, emergen-c packets, a daily fish oil multi, and two fish oil capsules. I don't feel much different, except sometimes I have more energy. I won't explain how, but I know that I'm getting far too much vitamin B, but since I want the fish oil I need to take that specific multi, and since I'm on birth control I desperately need the multi. This is a roundabout way of describing my new outlook. I'm begining to work on a heart-healthy lifestyle. My diet in the past was not even slightly heart healthy. I would eat fast food hamburgers at least once a month, and bacon with my breakfast omlet (egg white omlet ironically). I snacked on constant saturated fat and high calorie lard. A goal of mine is to improve my immune system as well, which is where the vitamin C comes in. I work in a pharmacy so I'm in constant contact with sick people, I need to ensure that I don't get sick. It's not as though I can go to work sick and 'tough it out' when I'm working with the public. This is another entry without a point except to talk about my vitamin regimine. By the by; fish oil is more helpful with cardiovascular health than a defibrullator.
Good night sweet blogverse, take your fish oil!

Morning Routine.

I don't have one. But it would be nice if I did. I don't wake up at the same time every day, making a systematic wake-up impossible. On days that I work early, I get up before the sun; on days that I don't work at all, I might sleep until ten; and then there's the mid-morning work days, days like today. I woke up far earlier than was necessary for a noon shift at work, but couldn't get myself to fall back to sleep. My roommate has a morning class so her alarm went off three times and finally I couldn't lay there any more. I showered and cleaned up from my roommate's date last night, and now I'm sitting here writing. Usually I write when something bad is going on in my life, not the case with this new blog. I'm writing because things are happening in my life, things that I never thought would happen to someone like me. I started this blog as a way to record my applications and hopefully acceptances into graduate school, a school far away from the small town where I am attending collge, a mere twenty minutes from the even smaller town where I grew up.
So far, I've applied at two schools, and I have three more on my list. Including Belmont. Belmont is my dream school, it's a private school, in Nashville, and they have a masters program which requires a study abroad. What a chance to expand my horizons and do something totally different with my monotonous life. The other four schools are scattered up and down the east coast, but none of them light my fire the way that Belmont does. I'm hoping that I can save enough money to go down during my spring break and visit the campus. I hope it's as beautiful as the pictures.
Good day sweet blogverse, wish me luck!

And Again.

I just read all the entries in my old livejournal from years and years ago. Some of the things I wrote about were exceedingly childish (as I'm sure this will seem in five years), but other things touched me deeply. I haven't thought about him in so long, that I forget how much he hurt me. I blocked the pain out somehow, because when I think about past 'relationships' I rarely think about him. But looking back on the raw emotion spelled out in that journal, I think that I might actually have been in love with him. At least as much in love as someone like me can be, at seventeen, with a man ten years my senior, absolutely terrified of any sort of commitment. I'm not in love with him anymore; but looking back on the pain, I still feel it as deeply as I did back then. When I allow myself to feel it. I can think about him with no pain, but when I think about what we shared, it hurts beyond recognition. As if my soul has been split in two, and I'm no longer whole but half. It's been six months since I saw him, and three years since I thought of him romantically, but remembering those times, all I can think about is the night he told me I put the best kind of spell on him. My seventeen year old heart split in two at that moment, and I've never gotten the other half back.
Good Night Sweet Blogverse. Pray for my heart.

Morning Commute

I was driving to work at 6:30 this morning and thinking about how much and yet how little has changed in the last four years. I was listening to the exact same radio station, with the same morning show, although one host has changed twice since then. What has changed is my attitude towards morning comedy radio shows. I used to change stations until I could find a song, I didn't like listening to the talking. Now, four years later, a senior again, going through the application process again, I love listening to the djs. Their jokes, the interactions with one another, sometimes I find myself laughing aloud.
That has changed, but little else. My 19 year old roommate is on a date with a man in our common room while I sit here and blog. I have no idea how to meet someone and interact in a way that would lead him to believe that I'd be interested in a real relationship with him. I don't even know if I want a relationship, I just want someone to temper the lonely nights. I should be able to do this on my own. I've managed being alone for years, but I want to be somebody's number one, someones favorite. I want someone to crawl to when life slaps me to the ground and steps on my chest. Someone to fall asleep with and wake up next to in the morning. I apologize for going off topic, but my roommate's date is depressing me. They're already talking about religion and past relationships, expressway to love. They'd better not have sex in my bed.

Goodnight Sweet Blogverse.

Who you'd be today

Okay, I know I just posted but there's something I want to get out of myself. I mentioned before that I'm 21; well sixteen years ago I was 5 and in kindergarten. My teacher's name was Mrs. Burke and my best friend was Arin (the first and only time I've ever seen in spelled that way). Arin and I had a friend who was a boy, Brandon. I don't remember at what point Brandon got sick, but he did. I remember one day he came in to school in a wheelchair with staples in his head and I kissed his cheek, but I was almost afraid of him. We made him a sign saying get well soon with all of our names on it, for his room at Camp Sunshine. I knew he was very sick, but I didn't really understand until several years later, Arin and I were sitting at my kitchen table making crafts and she told me that he had died, while we were in kindergarten. Many years passed before I thought of Brandon again, I can barely remember what he looked like as a child. There's a song by Kenny Chesney called Who You'd Be Today that reminds me of Brandon so much. I wonder what he would be doing with his life, if we would still be friends, if he would have done something truly great. I'll never know, but I like to think about Brandon a lot. He connects the woman I've become to the child who was frightened of a sick little boy with staples in his head, but still kissed him because she felt tugged toward him somehow. Rest in Peace Brandon, I hope to meet you again someday.

It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
The death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I've been through
Just knowin' no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today

That's Just Me

I'm 21. I'm tall. I'm a brunette. I struggle with an addictive personality. I'm smart.

It's the last one that gets me into trouble. I always assume upon first meeting someone that I'm smarter than they are. It depends on the person but I'm usually right. And they usually know it. But on those occasions where I meet someone who is smarter than I am, I argue and try to prove myself until everyone around me is sick and tired of hearing it. Then I just give up on having that person as a friend. Most of my friends have seen this green monster come out of me, but they don't realize the full impact of my need to be number one. If everyone I knew realized that I think that I'm smarter than they are, I don't like to think what would happen to my friend count. Sure some of them wouldn't care. The ones who have known me forever, and realize that I may or may not be correct but I need to feel better than them. These friends are the truest of the true, if I thought that any one of my friends felt this way, I would drop them faster than a video game bomb. Oh life. Just a general musing on how I feel about the world at large.
Goodnight sweet blogverse.

Come Join Me Here on Elba.

I read a lot, at least a book a day unless school and work conspire to deprive me of sleep. But I don't read typical book worm books, I read historical romances. Yes, the ones with half naked couples embracing on the cover. My mother calls them sex-books and won't allow them in her house. It's true to a certain extent, they do include sex scenes but that's not why I read them. I read them for the sensuality, and the depth of the feeling between the man and the woman. I've never been in love myself you see, so I vicariously experience the feeling through literature. My favorite books are the ones which don't have as much sex, but more feeling, holding, talking. I suppose it's my dream for a relationship, the perfect man. Of course, I don't believe in perfection; I'm not perfect and I can't expect a potential mate to be so, but there are qualities that I consider necessary.
People are constantly surprised that I'm a romantic. I guess I really don't seem the type, but most times it's laugh or cry so I laugh. Sometimes I come across as callous and determined to succeed at the cost of others, but truly I would give it all up for a man who loves me and a comfortable home. Freshman year, I was driving back from a late class with a guy who lived in my dorm and I told him that my happiest dream is to be a housewife. To cook and clean and raise children. He was shocked; even back then I had this aura of success around me, one which blinded people to my real needs and desires. It's this facade of strength and self assurance that I blame for my being alone after all this time. Good night, sweet blogverse; I can promise each and every one of you that I will be dreaming of the perfect man.