Winter of Discontent

I was walking back from the Mo'ian after turning in my design project (to the wire! Oh the adrenaline rush/stress of a hard news deadline!), when I noticed this couple in front of me walking. They were about the same height, both slim, both white, both wearing comfortable tailored shirts; his blue, hers pink. She had long loose blonde pigtails, and both of their appearances just said "I'm both comfortable AND cool."
And I thought: that's what I expected college relationships to be.

And then I found myself thinking: what does that say about MY college relationships? What does that mean?

I had the impression was both hard and easy. (not sure where I got this idea, but go with me here). I thought the classes were acceptably hard, intellectually stimulating and interesting all/most of the time. People had plenty of time to hang out and have fun, which was abundant. I'd either have one steady boyfriend that I was more likely than not to marry or would flit contentedly from captivating boyfriend to captivating boyfriend. I'd get to live wherever I want, no big deal. I'd have a car, reasonably fashionable. I'd always be cute, even when I wasn't spending particular attention to how I looked. Getting a job would be a bit of work, but nothing overwhelming. I'd study abroad, somewhere fabulous. And getting a degree would be no big deal.

And I had to draw a picture of my version of Adam and I to try to help myself understand how my life really is. (too bad I can't show you; it isn't worth it. just a pen sketch in the back of my ancient novel spiral). Adam is over a foot taller than me, and black (sometimes a point of contention...not his blackness, but his blackness in relation to me). We have been dating two years and its great, but neither of us has marriage anywhere on our minds. I could not honestly describe myself as 'slim' and neither of us could be called 'tailored.' Today I was out wearing ratty old tennis shoes, jeans, an old FARC t-shirt (free stuff!), my hair in an incredibly haphazard ponytail, out by myself after stressing over another Mo'ian assignment and picking up another, more stressful, assignment. My hair is continually haphazard, and I am hardly ever presentably cute. I have no idea where I'm going to live next year: It is easily described, as Becky put it, as the Great Apartment War of '07. I have a silent, hateful relationship with The Roommate. No way in hell I'm getting a car. Studying abroad is highly unlikely. Classes are either excruciatingly demanding or a yawn. One teacher today actually said, "so, when you're god is an erect phallus, what are you going to do?" Classic literature. Getting a degree/job makes me exceptionally nervous.

But what does all of this mean? I don't know. I've been restless lately; imagining myself as someone who doesn't care about responsibility, flits from party to party or at the very least entertainment to entertainment. Imagining myself up and leaving for ...somewhere. Spending money on books, DVDs, games, a new wardrobe that is always irrestistably fashionable. Of shedding all elements that lead to discontentment with body image and life in general.

I have no conclusion. You tell me, I guess.


...I had to look up the title quote to make sure I got it right. In my fantasy of college, I would just know that it was Shakespeare, Henry III. I disappoint myself.

"How are you NOT an alcoholic??"

I've been thinking a lot today about, well, myself...and where I am in my life. I guess it started this morning when Becky and I were talking about my living situation for next year, and how I'm not sure (but wish I was) and the whole deal with my parents and the CA job thing. She, almost seriously, kinda jokingly, asked, "how are you not an alcoholic?"

It's true. I've put up with a lot of crap. *shrug* But that's just always how it has been.

Then I had my first design class, and I realized how nice it is to be working with people who not only love their jobs, but are nice people too.

When I was in reporting, I felt like I was in a pack of rabid, starving dogs all fighting over the same piece of meat. And if I got in the way, no one had a problem biting me, too. (Goodness knows my editor took a big chunk out of me).

Or, to try on a different metaphor, I felt like I was being held underwater the same way they dunk terrorists to get them to talk, and I never knew what to tell them. In short, I was totally lost and hated ...everything, myself included. I thought I hadn't done well because I just wasn't a good writer. I seriously considered dropping out or changing my major to basketweaving or something.

I spent a few semesters searching for what I wanted. I took a lot of classes that I just thought were fun (though they often also helped me toward my major). In "Breakfast of Champions," Vonnegut writes about the "one pure, unwavering band of light" that is in each individual. I spent those months looking for my light, trying to strengthen it.

Now I realize I think I've (mostly) found. I'm taking editing and design classes, because it is still part of the newsroom, which I love, and I'm still telling stories, but my schedule is regular and my coworkers are supportive. When they ask why I'm there, I tell them I want to be a well-rounded journalist, but the truth is, I don't really know what I want anymore. But at the same time, I'm not as worried about it. I figure I'll find something; I'll just develop skills in everything, and try on different hats until I'm really happy.

I don't mean this to say I don't still have a lot of questions, a lot of doubts. I do. I have tons. But I don't let them get in my way anymore. I'm trying to focus on making ME happy, which is kinda a radical idea for me. And I am happier (though I still have my moments).

I don't know what I meant to say in this post...I guess just that I'm glad I took that time for myself. I highly recommend it. I can't always live just according to other people's expectations of me, right?

Sometimes I'm afraid...

This makes me scared:

http://archive.columbiatribune.com/2007/mar/20070302news007.asp

They're coming to protest the j-school, but indications are that they are coming looking to fight. I'm afraid on several levels here: a) I'm a student of the j-school, which is their named target, b) I'm dating Adam, which makes me a 'race traitor', c) I'm afraid for Adam, their historic enemy by his race, d) I have several gay friends, who also aren't high on the 'friends to Nazis' list, and e) someone isn't going to listen to the police chief's pleas to stay away from the march and someone is going to get hurt.

I'm not just afraid about the parade; they'll be massing (well, maybe) here, so that means it might be dangerous for Adam and I to even go out together, or Adam alone... and I have an appointment in that area from 9 to 4.

They have every right to march; I support their freedom of speech. I just wish it wasn't so close...and that they weren't so militant. I'm sure it'll be mostly okay...the city is already voicing a very strong "we don't want your kind here" response to the marchers, but, like I said, I have several reasons to be nervous.

Pray for rain on their parade.