Pens, Pencils, Pizza, and Parties!

P.S. The new Xanga is not really that cool.

But okay, so the Pens are in the second overtime of the fifth game right now, and I'm pretty much pooping my pants. I know that Pittsburgh will explode if they win, but the hopes of them winning the next two will be keeping us on the edges of our seats. Gosh! Just win!!

I'm visiting home for my brothers' graduations. I mean, at least Adam's is a graduation--he's finally done with the stupidness that is Glendale High School. More on that later. Austin's was a "promotion" from 6th to 7th grade, or elementary to Junior High. Even he said, "Man, they make too big a deal out of getting out of 6th grade." I'm pretty sure that every kid there got some kind of award...so...what then becomes the point of awards? lol...they become the new normalcy!

Anyway, my older of younger brothers is graduating high school, but his time in high school has been nothing but drama! Despite a good nature, never fighting, a wonderful singing voice, and good acting skills, my brother has been accused such atrocities as stalking a girl and creating a hit list, but when these things were found to be incorrect, he was never apologized to. The administration and staff and students have bullied him in very serious ways, culminating in the most recent escapade, when they gave him the wrong paperwork to fill out for his graduation project, then failed him by one point, giving him an opportunity for a redo just one day before graduation--the project would decide whether or not he would  be able to walk with his class. That redo was today, and he passed, but they made sure he walks last tomorrow (out of alphabetical or rank order), and asked him to sing for the ceremony. Nice, eh? Somehow, he's managed to still come out with the mantra, "I just want to love everyone. I care about all these people, more than they know." I'm really proud of my brother for that--I wish I could be that strong a person.

He wrote a short story for his project. I guess writing runs in the family. I really must start writing again. Adam wrote with a purpose--to stop bullying. I think that I've forgotten that writing can have purpose outside the artistic realm. I  blame college. lol. I miss you guys. Hit me up!

My life

So I got a 4.0. So I got an individual Merit Award from the Office of Greek Life. So my chapter won President's Cup for the second year. So I have an easy job and a great man in my life to keep my head on straight.

Yet...I have never felt like more of a failure.

I screw up everything I do at first. I don't know when I'm going to find my fit. What if, when I start teaching, I'm a complete wreck? What if I don't follow the proper protocol? What if I mess up my future marriage because I don't call the right person at the right time? What if I screw over my kids because I don't fill out the right paperwork in the appropriate time frame? When did living get so hard?

I just hate how much pointless CRAP you have to do to exist. I have the meaninglessness of being alive--like calling people above you instead of being able to make your own decisions. Having almost a college degree but being treated like a kindergartener. Not being able to give your input without submitting form after form and email after email. Living in a world where no one talks, but everyone either types or yells. Rather impersonal, eh?

What am I supposed to be? Will I ever get this right? I don't know.

Help.

Time goes by.

That Smell

Springs come and go, and each year it gets a little harder to take in the scent of death and life intermingling in the air. "It smells like spring," people say. It's that hint of all the cold and a tinge of warmth in the future that makes the smell of Spring so distinctive. It's that smell that triggers the reintroduction of mini-skirts and sandals, the bird's song and the love in the air. But it's hard to deal with--each time you smell that smell, another year of your life has passed and each day suddenly feels like it's been wasted. What really have you done in the past year? Was there something that died--and something that's being born again?

People become a little happier. Instead of frowning under lines and lines of parkas, bronzed faces smiles at you, welcoming you to the new part of the year. People unfold themselves from their burrows under the rocks of winter and make a triumphant return to the land of the living. Class becomes a little less burdensome--you spend more time staring longingly at the sunshine outside than paying attention. And it's okay...because so is the professor.

Learning takes on new meaning. You are taking in everything that seems to make sense. The pointless facts and citations that have purpose for the moment. But by the next time you catch that smell, you won't remember them. Learning then, becomes teaching. It becomes being with new people. Opening yourself up to new chances. Sharing a sandwich and your heart. Sitting in the grass and feeling the life of the bugs crawling deep inside the earth underneath you and the rays of the suns swirling and wriggling their way to the tip of your nose. You are alive again. And it is new.

Metacognition