*phew*

That was... an intense day. It started off pretty nicely, what with staying up until sometime after 4 writing and thinking and musicking and such. And isn't it amazing how quickly the world looks brighter when one more person thinks you're pretty? That's so pathetic of me, because, you know, I want to be that girl who always loves the way she is and whose looks are honestly not important to her. What's that word I'm looking for? Oh yeah, confident. Adjusted. But I'm rather in a perpetual state of adjustment, which really is a good thing because then I never stop learning. I just wish I didn't have to keep relearning that sentence that goes "I am pretty." It doesn't matter, but because I am female, and human, it does. My goal is to someday be that woman. As Lucy put it once, I want to look in the mirror and be pleased with what I see, because I live a life I can be proud of and in which exteriors are the last thing on my mind. Anyway... that's something to think about. And things looked pretty good this morning, with potential for something beyond my cell phone (ha, Sam will get that one) and someone who if nothing else brightens my day. Then another cradle-robbing day-brightener named Siobhan showed up at my door and finally satiated my longing for pancakes. Oh, it was a good day  and as intense as happiness sometimes is, I welcome it. Lots of things on my mind, but all nice things.

Then came the phone call (dun dun dunnnn!). The call I've been waiting for since December, which by now I had given up on. It was from SLU ResLife, telling me that they want to offer me an RA position. Which would have been awesome to hear a couple months ago.... but I've got a roommate, and she's awesome, and now I have to tell her that even though we've been looking forward to rooming together all year that she might have to find some other random person to live with on short notice. That sucks for her, and for me too, because I was seriously so excited about it. I mean, I just bought fancy soaps for our suite bathroom. I should have known that they would call me as soon as I started planning and getting really pumped. So there was all that combined with shock.... but I figured, okay, I can think things over. I know I would LOVE to act as a mentor, and the free housing would definitely be helpful. Either way it'll be a letdown, but either way it will turn out great, I'm sure.

So all this was running through my mind as I called my mom and told her the news. She was simultaneously excited and disappointed for me, as she pays attention to my details and knew what I was thinking. But then she dropped a bomb on me, which I never saw coming. Apparently my parents had a 'discussion' just yesterday, in which my dad basically decided that, if I don't get a decent-paying job during the school year, I'm not going back to SLU. I flipped. Seriously, I had no idea how important staying at SLU is to me until I heard her relay that. Besides the fact that he said nothing about this pretty important decision to me, besides being a rather harsh ultimatum, I was pretty ticked because I thought we had this all settled awhile ago. You know, I decided that was where I needed to be, we discussed finances, we agreed that my parents could sacrifice a little (and I'll be be buried in student loans up to my ass) because it was really important. Not just to me, but to everybody. Apparently that's now negotiable. I really don't know whether he meant it or not, but it scared the hell out of me and makes me so angry that he actually might. I completely understand the importance of helping to pay for my education, and I've always been willing to do that. But I'm in charge of my own life now, as much as I can be, and I make the decisions. I don't respond to threats and ultimatums. I probably overreacted, but saying something like that? That threw me for a loop, especially secondhand. (I asked my dad to please not have these 'discussions' loudly, if he has to have them, since I don't need to hear every detail of every fight. Apparently he listened for once, because I didn't hear a word of this, and I don't know when he was going to decide to drop this on me.....)

Basically, if I don't take the RA position, my situation at SLU is in jeopardy. And even if I did have a different job lined up, I would be pressured to take this one because it would save me a lot in housing. Trust me, that would be a good thing. But I hate- HATE- being told what to do, as you probably know if you know me well. (My mom knows this about me, just as she knew, when she got home and found me organizing all the dvds in alphabetical order, that I was pissed off. When I have too much nervous angry energy, I clean. And organize the shit out of whatever I find.) I just want to be able to actually make a decision, weigh all the pros and cons myself and decide what's really best for me. It's not like it's just a job- it's 30 girls depending on me 24/7, it's a huge commitment, and I have to keep my grades up and be able to balance a full-time position like that with everything else in my life. I hate feeling like a decision is already made for me.... when I told my dad about the call and that I wasn't sure what I thought about it, he said "Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?" Basically he gets to call the shots, even though he knows nothing about the way I live my life, and he assumes I'm just going to do what he wants, because he tells me so. GRRRAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!

I'm sorry for this rant... it's been awhile since I've gotten that angry- not upset, but angry- about something, and I felt like I needed to sift through things. Like I said, it was an intense day. It was cathartic, in a way. And it reaffirmed for me that SLU is where I'm supposed to be. Oh yeah, and that I'm not going to respond to fear tactics. I know I try to play that "strong woman" role that I don't always feel, but I'll tell you one thing: I am so tired of being pushed around and I am NOT going to take shit from anyone.

Anyway.... that was my very roller-coastery day. I'm glad it's over....

All you need is ________

Yesterday, part two: This is related to my last entry. Upon further reflection, this song popped into my head; it's what I need, and (maybe I'm being presumptuous) what tends to make other people happiest with their lives. Once again, I take inspiration from a musical. Here it is, from Children of Eden:

The Spark of Creation

Beyond, beyond
It sounds full of wind and mist, doesn't it?
It means other things exist, doesn't it?
Beyond, beyond
It says Adam leave your list, doesn't it?
Father, why does my head feel this joy this dread since the moment I said
Beyond!

I've got an itching on the tips of my fingers
I've got a boiling in the back of my brain
I've got a hunger burning inside me, cannot be denied
I've got feeling that the Father who made us
When he was kindling a pulse in my veins
He left a tiny spark of that fire, smoldering inside

The spark of creation, is flickering within me
The spark of creation, is blazing in my blood
A bit of the fire that lit up the stars
And breathed life into the mud, the first inspiration
The spark of creation

I see a mountain and I want to climb it
I see a river and I want to leave shore
Where there was nothing let there be something, something made by me
There's things waiting for me to invent them
There's worlds waiting for me to explore
I am an echo of the eternal cry of
Let there be!

The spark of creation, burning bright within me
The spark of creation, won't let me rest at all
Until I discover or build or uncover
A thing that I can call, my celebration
Of the spark of creation

The spark of creation, may it burn forever
The spark creation, I am a keeper of the flame
We think all we want is a lifetime of leisure
Each perfect day the same
Endless vacation
Well that's alright if you're a kind of crustacean
But when you're born with an imagination
Sooner or later you're feeling the fire get hotter and higher
The spark of creation!

So many great things in that show.... I think, when you get down to it, humans are happy when they're useful. And if I can create something of use to the world, can celebrate whatever gives life to humanity, then I've done something worthwhile. I can photograph beauty, write, dance, attempt to paint, create a character, sing, hold one of those conversations that becomes more than talking and takes on a life of its own (I love those). Even create one of my weird cookie batches. I also credit Shel Silverstein with my inspiration. I can't find the poem I'm thinking of, but the gist of it is, put something crazy in the world that wasn't there before. It sounds corny when I say it, but part of this also relates to legacy and terror management theory (see one of my previous posts or Wikipedia). If you do something new, part of you is around forever. So basically, this blog, with its unique combination of words, is my shot at eternity. (Should I find that comforting....?) So there you have it, the secret to being useful and happy: go be original. This has been 30-second revelations with Carrie.

I DON'T KNOW anyone from Massachusetts!

*sigh*

Some of you may know that my computer's name is Hal. I'm going to assume that most of my readers are familiar with the film 2001: A Space Odyssey. So you should get my reference. I named him that very shortly after I got him- one, because I needed to be able to fit a name to his personality, because I name everything; two, so I could put a name in with my cursings; and three, because I already sensed that he had a mind of his own. Now, I see, I was right. I learned to trust him, but he was only manipulating me. He was planning to take over and destroy me all along. And finally I know- I can't trust this computer. All that "I'm sorry Carrie, I'm afraid I can't do that" has convinced me.

I'm a nerd. Anyway.

I'm still a little ticked off because Hal went screwy in the middle of a Xanga entry I was writing. It was a lot of stuff I really wanted to say, too, and I didn't even get to all of it. It was about birthdays, and how that relates to self-centeredness, and how much of that is too much, and what we (I) really deserve. Maybe no one would have read it or taken much away, but it's the principle of the thing. Ah well... at least I got a chance to write it all out and think it through. And in thinking about all that stuff, why should I expect that people want to read this blog anyway? I feel (sometimes) that I have important things to say, but just because I write it down doesn't mean that people need to read it. Am I arrogant in assuming they do? or that they might want to read it in the first place? Sigh... some of the stuff I was going to write was about family crap too, and some was about God. At least I've thought over it. Maybe more on that later.

Lately I somewhat feel that my importance has been overstated. Or at least the things I have to say. What am I really doing here, anway? I'm drifting into that barest existential realm with that kind of question. It's something to think about. Lately, what I'm doing here is thinking. Which is significant at least to me. I probably shouldn't stay up this late writing nonsense about this kind of thing.

And this sounds strange here, but I'm really excited that the same actress who played Karen in Mean Girls is going to be Sophie in Mamma Mia! I just hope she can sing. I hope I can sing, when I get back to SLU.... I want to be onstage again so badly. Maybe that's the answer. I'll find the answers to all of life's problems on the stage.

Hey, a girl can dream, right?

Currently Listening You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown (1999 Broadway Revival Cast) By Clark Gesner, Andrew Lippa, Kristin Chenoweth Little-Known Facts see related

Little-Known Facts

These are some things I thought you might be interested in knowing. Some are funny, some sad, some random or just plain interesting. I don't have anywhere else to put this little collection of mine, so here you go:

I found an article on msn.com on why men love women's bodies, no matter what shape they are. It was very encouraging, and, I hope, a true representation of the dispersion of opinions, not merely conveniently gathered data (I don't say this often, but thank you, AP Prob & Stats!) Here's the link: http://msn.match.com/msn/article.aspxarticleid=9567&TrackingID=516311&BannerID=544657&menuid=6&GT1=26000

Along the same lines, I'm currently working on a list of characteristics that my ideal guy should have. Things relating to character and emotions, not physical things (although 6'0" with black hair and dreamy blue eyes is a plus). So far, some of my most important ones are: emotionally mature (aka able to handle an actual relationship), romantic to some extent, very kind, intelligent, optimistic, funny, a feminist, spiritual (not neccessarily religious, but God should be an important part of his life), moral, geeky, family-centered, willing to surprise me/give me unexpected gifts*, committed, fun-loving (but not a party guy), a deep thinker- who can debate with me about the universe or human nature or the meaning of life, appreciative of the arts, open, open-minded, active enough to get me out of bed, laid-back enough to always make me feel better when I'm stressing out, someone I can be completely comfortable around, and who thinks I'm the most beautiful women who ever lived, despite a plethora of evidence to the contrary. Basically, someone who can be my best friend, whom I can trust and who can make each moment fun or happy or meaningful. Oh yeah, and- allow me to borrow here- "a fuck-good kisser." Thoughts from others, lists of your own?

*Surprises and gifts don't need to be a trip to Hawaii or a diamond necklace. I love when people do little unexpected things for me, like make a cute card saying "I love you," or leave a chocolate bar on my pillow during a rough week, or give me a pretty rock just because they knew I would like it. Note to males: as far as I'm aware, every girl eats up stuff like that. Small, frequent expressions of love mean more than grand gestures that are once-in-a-lifetime. Although grand gestures can be pretty awesome too :)

Wow, can you tell I've thought a lot about that one? Anyway, more random sh!t... Chris Lyons and I are planning a SLU Fashion Week for sometime later this year, which will include suspenders, wild prints, and of course fedoras. I predict that turkey basters will be the must-have accessory for fall.

Someone[s] from Massachusetts keeps visiting my page, many times per day, and it's a little weird. I don't think I know anyone from Massachusetts- I don't even think I can spell it right.

I make a lot of lists. Others: goals for my life, movies people keep telling me I need to see, summer goals, ideal man characteristics, things I need to say to people, bands to check out/download, jobs I'm applying for, songs that would be good for our *crosses fingers* potential fall bellydance showcase.

There are 47 species of bats in the United States; a small island of Panama has 74 distinct species. Here's a sweet picture courtesy of National Geographic: Apparently the bats on this island are food for a lot of larger predators- including large spiders. Mental note: never going to Panama.

I had several firsts this past Saturday: I went to a dance with a girl for the first time (rather than as a group or date)- Meg's formal. Since we both wore suits, it's the first time that someone has actually said to my face that they thought I was a lesbian until told otherwise. I'm sure many people have thought this and kept quiet, but still. First and last time I wear my 3-inch zebra heels for more than 2 hours- those mothers killed my feet. Also, Saturday was the first time I smoked hookah, or anything for that matter. For those who don't know, no, that is not a drug or tobacco of any sort, it's a clean-burning, scented water smoke, which has been popular for centuries, especially in the Middle East. That's why there are often bellydancers at hookah bars (though sadly not at this one). I didn't see what all the fuss was about, but it's actually very relaxing, and it smells great. On the downside, it burns the roof of your mouth a little, and if you smoke it all the time it's probably bad for you. But no worries, I'm not hookahed. SCORE! one more for bad puns day.

I am an advocate for using words responsibly. I believe that you should know the correct meaning of a word when you use it, and use it according to accurate definition, but also pay attention to any connotations it might have (ex: use of the word "pungent" when trying to compliment someone is generally not advised). For example, "gay"and "retarded" are not and never have been synonyms for "stupid." Another one: dictionary.com's definition of feminism is: 1. the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men. 2. an organized movement for the attainment of such rights for women. But when you say you're a feminist, it has all kinds of negative connotations. People think of radical movements and women with "ugly" haircuts, but it began as the simple idea that men and women are equal and therefore should have equal rights. Therefore, I willingly identify myself as a feminist. (I've been rereading Reviving Ophelia lately, and the chapter focusing on womens' rights got me worked up as usual. Read it- it's amazing.)

On the same topic, a fact I read in that book (published in 1995) which, unfortunately, has not changed since then: one in four women are raped in their lifetime. Not even sexually assaulted, that just includes those who are raped. That's 25 percent, one quarter, 1:3- no matter how you look at it, it's a ridiculous statistic. I couldn't believe it when I first heard it and I can't now. How is it possible that this number has not changed in the past thirteen years? How did it ever get so high in the first place? And most importantly, how do we change it? Until it is not okay for a man [or anyone] to violate a woman's [or anyone's] body, until women [and men] know that they have a right to refuse sex for any reason, until people are taught that rape is wrong by every moral standard, one in four will be our number. And I can't live with that statistic.

Windshield wipers, bulletproof vests, fire escapes, and laser printers were all invented by women.

Here's some happier math: 111,111,111 x 111,111,111=12,345,678,987,654,321

If you dream about a spider, you'll see a spider shortly after you wake up. This is something I've found through my own personal experience. Hopefully, the dream I had about my friend Monica becoming my roommate so she could slowly poison me with arsenic won't come true. Or the one where I gave birth to a cicada.

East of Eden is by far less sucky than all of John Steinbeck's other books. However, according to his picture on the jacket, he smoked gross-smelling cigars, which is a minus. By the way, did you know that smoking can damage your respiratory, circulatory, muscular, digestive, skelatal, nervous, immune, and reproductive systems, as well as your skin and all your senses? Just thought I'd throw that out there.

Finally: I get slaphappy and unable to think of more facts to round this out at 2:30 in the morning. Also, I am hungry. Aren't you so glad that now you know? :)

Currently Reading Just Listen By Sarah Dessen see related

So I'm home... have been for a couple weeks now. And I'm homesick. I set my desktop background to the view of SLU I used to see out my window every day because I miss it so much. I'm not quite sure why. Lately I've been feeling like I don't know where I belong. Of course I love college, but when I'm there I miss my family (all of them at least a little), and some of the best friends I've ever had are in Cincinnati right now, so I should be content. But now I miss everyone I've gotten to know in the past year- those who, while they may not be as numerous as I'd like and don't know me as well, nonetheless have become important sources of support and inspiration.

I think most of my problems come from passion, either the excess or the lack of it. Right now I'm staying up late and sleeping in, and while it's nice for a little while, my brain is confused without schedules and homework. Now that I'm not in school I can actually feel more excited about learning... and can blow it off. After the crazy couple of months I've had, sure, I need a rest, but after all of that it feels eerie to be back to normal (if you can ever call it that). I know people who care too much about people and things and are consequently always calling me, confused. Others just are apathetic, and these annoy me to no end. As usual, I'm some of both. St. Augustine would despair of me, because I find it so hard to just be balanced. It always seems like I'm at one extreme or the other. For instance, when it comes to la pasión, I'm either way too full of it or I ignore the hints of it. I love the times when I can get worked up about things that really matter. When I was talking to Meg the other day and started telling her about the psych classes I'm really excited about taking, she called me, quote, "adorable." And when people use that adjective on me (versus the dreaded "cute"), it's almost always when I'm getting excited about something I really love, like a cause, or my plans for my life, or the books I love. And I accept it, because I know they're right- those moments are me at my best, and I can feel myself becoming better, happier, every time I share something I love. But what about the times when I'm not my best? When what seems to be a passionate diatribe against someone is really an emptiness, a feeling that I'm not as good as them. I can feel myself getting far too annoyed sometimes, and as I sit silent, shut myself away, I feel that it's the truth. When I succumb to my petty side, and know I could be better than that, but that I'm choosing not to be. Sometimes all I want is to be alone, and people and life encroach upon that, and I get so ticked off that they're intruding on my personal nothing time. It's not very nice of me, and I hate those entitled moods. I could explain why they happen, but I know then I'd want to excuse myself, and I can't do that. People like me, who have always known that something better is possible, can't plead ignorance or helplessness. I've just got to want to keep getting better.

I've found myself wanting to be very honest lately. Maybe that's why I'm sharing all of this stuff that is a little jumbled, and that most people, even if they read it, won't understand the full impact of. But it's okay. The point is that I say it. Sometimes you just have to say what you're thinking, even if you know the person you're saying it to won't get it, or if it sounds confusing and not quite right. That's why here, I don't worry about rambling or ending sentences with prepositions (althought that earlier "of" is going to bug me still, I know it). I've been thinking about honesty and facades a lot lately, inspired by some expected and unexpected things (one of which is the book I've been reading). And I've been feeling a little lonely. That's no one's fault, or if anyone's, it's mine. I know how easy it is for me to suffer from lack of other people. But the problem is, it's hard work to let people see all sides of me, and I'm not feeling inspired enough to do that. And I want people to know all of me. I don't think anyone does; of course, I don't think anyone knows anyone completely, which is a good thing. Everyone needs some secrets. But I'm finding myself wanting to share some of mine, the things that make me different than I appear, the sides of me that aren't so pretty. Everybody has that. But how many people can see both the light and darkness in someone, and love them equally? (Thank you, East of Eden.) I need people who can, lots of them. I've been worried lately that there can't be too many more people who will accept me the way I am. But I can't settle. I have a few good friends who have seen most of my sides and are still able to accept me (which means more to me than I can say- hopefully, you know who you are. If you've ever talked to me at 2 am or seen me really cry, it's probably you). And I want more of those. Even though I don't think I'm popular, as Lindsay claims, I will admit that I have a lot of acquaintances. Most of them, even the casual ones, I've shared something with at some point or another. I've seen something wonderful or surprising in them, or shared something I never would've expected to have in common (and yes, that's probably anyone and everyone I know who's reading this right now). When I feel something like that, I want to get to know this amazing person better, because it's my belief that everyone is amazing if you see enough of them. The problem is that I want so much for there to be something, sometimes I rush in and expose myself too soon. Not like that, perv. The thing is, I know that everyone has potential to become a wonderful, soul kind of friend; but not everyone can handle that. And there are some people that you just shouldn't be soul friends with. So I feel a connection with someone, tell them my life story or soemthing really personal in the hopes that they'll reciprocate and it will be the start of something incredible; then I realize I've said too much too soon or overestimated them, and then they know too much about me; they'll back off or I will, and I'll feel disappointed that once again I've been too trusting, and wonder if I'll ever be able to find more people I can be myself with. Fun vicious cycle, huh?

I'm finding myself wanting to share lots of maybe-stupid, maybe-not things, like the fact that I just ate almost an entire chocolate bar, or that I want desperately to be onstage again, or I've been listening to far too many sad songs lately and I'm not totally sure why. I feel like I need to share everything about who I am with everyone I know, and hope they'll take it all. That gets me into trouble, it gets me hurt- sometimes permanently. But I need someone to know what's here. I want to believe that it's been a long time since I needed others to validate me, but the truth is I will probably always need it. I have as many "Wow, I suck at life" days as "Damn I'm good!" days. At least there are confident days. Comparing myself to third-grade me or so, it's a big improvement. But as I said, I can't be content with less than my ideal. And ideally, when I put myself out there for the world to see, it's all good, or at least has potential. For right now, I just want it to be okay that I'm not perfect, I'm not always what you expect me to be, and a lot of times, I fail. It's more important that I accept it myself; but I want someone else to know it too. I want to be human.

And here, in the back of my mind while I'm writing all this, is the voice that says, "For the love of God, enough about you! So you want others to see you- what about really seeing others?" That voice can be damned annoying, but it's true. I am not by any means the only person in the world, and if I really believe everyone has such wonderful potential, why don't I treat them that way? Why do I get so self-absorbed? I know that I observe people, heck, it's one of my favorite things to do, but that I don't often acknowledge what I see. So one of my goals for this summer- I always make this really ambitious list for how I'm going to spend my summer, like learning Italian from a book or dancing every day or reading all those "classic" books I feel I should, but I usually end up forgetting or losing the list, and getting a fraction done of what I wanted; but this one, if nothing else, I'll do- is to write down something for everyone who's meant something to my life, and either send it to them, or maybe have a conversation about it. It's the kind of thing you would do if you knew you had six months to live or something, but don't freak out. I'm looking at it from the perspective of things I want people to know before I die. It's morbid to look at things that way, I realize, but that seems to be the only way humans tend to get things like that done. I mean, how many people have made deathbed confessions or apologies? (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terror_management_theory for info about- duh- terror management theory. It's not my favorite theory ever and I think there are some holes in it, but it was one of the more interesting and compelling things I studied in Social Psych. this semester.) Anyway, I want to tell people the things I've always wanted to but couldn't- what I honestly (see the theme here?) think of them, and the good things I see in them that maybe they can't see in themselves. I've always loved affirmations. Examples: You can be a real bitch, but I love you anyway. Or: I've never told you how much you mean to me, but every time I talk to you I'm inspired. I want people to know that I see them, that there are parts of them that they think are hidden, but that are noticed. So many good things to say. And I want to say it all.

Finally, something a little more fun (because if you've actually read all this, it means I love you and you deserve it): I was listening to the showtunes channel on tv the other day, and I heard this beautiful song. Interestingly enough, it was from Taboo- the musical about Boy George. Like I said, inspiration comes from interesting places. I was so intrigued that I downloaded the entire thing. While on the whole it's not great (which I truthfully kind of expected from the Broadway-flop Boy George biography), there are several standout songs, and this is one of them. It's called "Stranger in This World," and it's the kind of song that makes life worth living, no matter what, for the entire three minutes. Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEg_Uk2dTwM

Finally finally, something that is a lot more fun- just trust me, it's perfect  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOT1XxmOExU

The gist is, I love you all.
Honestly.