whats going on

i find myself with no motivation to write...at all.



i really don't want to lose that part of me that wants to write.

panicked

i'm at a loss. college is over...and i have no idea what i want to do or what lies ahead for me in the future. i'm scared, i'm overwhelmed, and i feel underprepared. why doesn't college prepare you for this feeling of inadequacy after graduation?

it's not that i don't want to find a job. i just don't know what kind of job to look for.


there is nothing i wish for more than the comfortable security blanket of college. but i know i've grown past that.

i just don't know what to grow into.

confused

i graduated from college yesterday.

i loved college. every single nasty, brilliant, wonderful, scary part of it.

so why don't i feel anything now that i've left it?

Duty

She had been coming here every day since she arrived in England two weeks ago. Buckingham Palace never ceased to amaze her with its air of splendor and majesty. As much as she loved the good ol' U.S. of A., nothing back home could compare to the age and history of the buildings and architecture here.

She had also begun another little ritual as well. She hurried her steps, checking her watch. It was almost time. As the little side gate came into view she smiled. She slowed, meandering now that she was almost there. Gracefully moving towards the tiny bench located right near the gate, she sank down onto the sun-warmed stone with a grateful sigh.

He stood, stalwart and stoic throughout, resplendent in his ornate Queen's Guard uniform, the bright red a splash of color against the dull gray of the wall he guarded. He didn't shift under the warm sun, nor did he blink an eye when she crossed her long, slim legs and adjusted her skirt, seemingly oblivious to everything except his duty.

She looked up at him and grinned, admiring his chisled profile and strong jaw. He had beautiful eyelashes, ones that she tried to imitate every night by torturing hers with an eyelash curler. His nose looked like it had been broken before, but it gave his face character and kept it from being too pretty. He was tall with a lean build, and probably measured around 6'2". She guessed that if she were ever brave enough to get close, she would fit perfectly under his chin. Despite coming here every day, she still didn't know the color of his eyes, but she liked to imagine they were gray, silvery and intense, like image he presented. Gray eyes would suit him best, she thought.

"I know you missed me yesterday. I got caught up in writing. I've been keeping a journal lately, just jotting down random thoughts as they come. There is so much here that moves me; the beauty, the people, the adventure of being in a different country."

She took a deep, flower-scented breath, and stretched out her legs.

"It's so nice to be away. No pressure. I didn't realized how stressed out I was until it was relieved. I stopped to watch an old couple today. They were holding hands as they walked down the street, and he held open the door for her as she walked into the little corner shop. It was sweet and completely natural. They were totally absorbed in each other. I hope I find something precious like that,---something that endures for fifty years or more." She shook her head slightly, not realizing that wistfulness made her face glow gently. "I'm sorry, I'm getting sentimental. It just seeing a couple like that sends a sudden spurt of hope and yearning through me. It's hard to see people living out the secret dream I have, the dream that always seems just out of reach."

She fell silent.

"I don't mean to bother you like this you know. You probably dread me coming every day." She flashed a self-deprecating grin up towards him as he stared straight ahead and silent. "It's just nice to be able to speak to someone without having them judge me,----or at least not speaking their judgements aloud." Her voice grew softer. "I guess I'm just lonely. I feel so small in this city, an outsider here as well as home. It's an been amazing trip, but it also made me realize that I haven't found where or with whom I fit in. Yet I feel completely comfortable with you. Isn't that odd?" she mused to herself.

She rose from the bench in one swift, liquid motion. Gazing at his face, she imprinted it into her memory; her guard confidant.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. The vacation is over. It's time for me to assume responsibility once more. It was wonderful to meet you....sort of. And thank you. For listening. Even though you didn't really have a choice in the matter. I would have liked to have gotten to know you, but I'll always remember this little ritual, and the guard who was kind enough to bear up underneath my constant chatter."

She smiled sweetly, and raised her hand in a jaunty little salute.

"Good-bye, soldier."

She walked off.


Because she didn't look back, she didn't see him break his stance, shifting his head ever so slightly to watch her until she disappeared from his sight. And no one was there to notice as he erased the longing from his eyes, or that as he resumed his position, his hands trembled a little as they gripped his rifle.

random thoughts

sometimes i feel like the connection between my brain and fingers is disconnected, or at the very least, broken.

i have all these wonderful ideas and phrases floating around in my head. beautiful, moving, poignant words waiting, aching, straining to be written and read. yet as soon as i sit down to write, my mind goes as clear as newly scrubbed glass. it's a complete exercise in frustration. it makes me want to tear my hear out by the roots. it makes me want to bang my head against a table, hoping that repeated smacking will jar the words loose.

i just got a whiff of the cologne my ex-boyfriend wears. it caused a sharp, sweet ache to start in my nose and settle around the vicinity of my chest before fading. i'm glad it still hurts a little to think about things associated with him like that. it means that he mattered.

an alumni that i've known for a while is still interested in me, after a date that happened more than a year ago. it makes me wonder what exactly is damaged inside of me that i cannot be interested and attracted to a smart, sweet, successful, good-looking guy who actually appreciates the person i am beyond the physical. i cannot bring myself to return his regard. he is so grateful for any attention i give him that communicating with him always leaves me feeling guilty. maybe i'm bored because he already has given me the upper hand. maybe i'm uncomfortable with being put on a pedestal. i happen to sort of like my imperfection.

i really need to concentrate on issues other than guys.
i give them far too much importance.


i think i need to start exploring my own mind....strengthen that connection between creativity and keyboard.
working on improving another part of me.

and on to....life?

i am really excited about approaching responsibility and actual adulthood. the real deal----an apartment in a different city, zero dependence on the parents, striking out on my own. i think i'm ready for the next step, even though leaving to comfort of college will be difficult and saying good-bye to new and old friends will feel like my heart is tearing in two.

the thing is...


i don't really know if i'll actually be any good at being an adult.


and that's the part that frightens me.

i'll take another year please..

i'm beginning to hate the word last.

everytime i do something lately, that word has been attached to that action. last time at this bar. last time we will do so and so. last day of classes. last last last.

i know that everyone is saying this because they want to remind themselves and others to savor every moment, especially since we are graduating from the biggest party and protective adult bubble ever, also known as college. But for God's sake, i do not need to be reminded every mother-effin' minute! especially by underclassmen who still have at least one glorious year left at this institution. whenever an underclassmen uses the word "last", usually with a look of pity in their eyes, i'm tempted to punch them in the mouth over and over while screaming a bloody war cry of despair and anguish until i am arrested or pulled off.

sadly, i am a pacifist and would never really actually harm anyone.
although it is amusing to picture and helps relieve some of the stress.


so yes, thank you. i am completely and painfully aware that this is my last everything with regards to college.

but for the sake of keeping me from suffering mini-panic attacks every time someone points it out...


could you please pretend that it's not?

nicely done

i am pretty sure that i am attracted to extremely inappropriate guys.

i am also pretty sure that i will pass out in my underwear tonight...by myself.



mission shitfaced...accomplished.

a scene

She walks down a quiet tree-lined street, humming to herself and enjoying the sunlight on her face. A warm breeze swirls around her legs, bringing with it the scent of living things. She loves the walk to work. It's her time to relax, turn off, and to just let herself settle.

He watches her every day. She doesn't ever notice him. He likes the back of the little open air cafe. He's more comfortable in the shadows. He's memorized the way she walks, the color of her hair when the sun hits it just so, and the dreamy smile on her face that she seems unware of. His head fills with music when he sees her. He thinks she's made for soft light, and wonders how someone like her walks alone.

She walks to work every day.
Every day, he watches.

He wishes he could talk to her. just to hear what her voice sounds like.
She wishes for someone to walk beside her. to smile up at and share her simple joy in the day.
And they're both a little lonely.

ah the wonders of a late night

"So, you're probably not going to hook up with me tonight are you?"

"Nope, probably not."

"So i should go talk to that girl over there and see if anything happens instead of talking to you right?"

"Right. She seems pretty cute....and drunker than i am."

And with a slight nod to me, he was off.