Reflection by GLA Student Kelly August 5, 2010
"I am not entirely sure what to expect, but whatever this trip ends up being I'm sure it will be interesting." This excerpt from my GLA journal sums up most of our begining feelings about the trip: curious, expectant, unsure; however, these two weeks in the Galapagos, Ecuador have turned out to be much more than interesting, so much more that mere words can hardly do it justice. The journey encompassed facing our fears, meeting new people, and experiencing different cultures. From those afraid of heights being able to jump off of 20 foot cliffs to people even in fear of not bathing for 4 days, we all faced and conquered difficult tasks. The beautiful Galapagos Islands will always plead our return as it holds many fond memories and life-altering experiences.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thankful (old)
Way to go mom, it's been 5 years since that Friday in September.
So, a month or so ago Julie comes up to me and asks: "What are you thankful for?" as a question for the newspaper. I stutter as I normally do with questions that are on the record, and come up with the word friends. I mean, it's simple right? Friends are cool, they give you something to look forward to, to keep your day going. But the problem was I couldn't think of anything else. The other answers I heard around me were great, like music and family, but is that really all I'm thankful for? The basics? I'm not complaining, I'm definitely grateful for such things, but while trying to answer that question it occurred to me that I couldn't think of much of anything that I was thankful for.
My earlier blog that I wrote a few weeks ago dealt with my feelings on the Holidays and what they are like now, as I get older. Sure, it was a bit overdramatic but the fact still stands that things in my life are changing and I am getting older, but looking back on that I think, am I being selfish? "I can't be thankful for what I have, I need more." That's something I look down upon, so it upset me.
Today in health we talked about Cancer, and eventually got to the subject of breast cancer. Mrs. Correa explained that doctors may have to do a mastectomy (removal of the breast) in order to get rid of the malignant tumor. She phrased it as we either take the breast, or it's your life. This brought me back to last fall, when that was the choice my own mother had to make, and with that memory came a few tears that I tried desperately to cover up during class. But why am I crying? Look at what I have, what I have to be thankful for.
I get a message from Zach, asking what I'm doing for Thanksgiving, and I start to explain that it's going to be the same boring, "wake up and watch the parade, eat turkey… or game hens, and just be with my parents, bored." Then I heard my mom in my head, saying that no matter what this Thanksgiving was obviously going to be better than last year, because last year she had no appetite because of the chemo. I typed that out to him, and when I read over the message realized what I should have said that day when Julie came up and asked, "What are you thankful for?"
Here's what I'm really thankful for. I'm thankful, yes, for my friends, music, family, the food, etc… But I'm so massively thankful for the good health of my family, namely my mom, the survivor. One Friday in September I found out my mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer, the road ahead was bumpy and the future seemed so morbid. After they performed the mastectomy she was started on chemo, which was hard for her and my family. Her loss of energy and her change of appearance was a constant reminder that there was still a long road ahead, or maybe just a short road with a dead end. Nothing was for sure. She kept persisting though, and kept strong through it all. She still went into work more often than she needed (and probably should've) and was stronger than any I've seen. I think she had to have something that seemed normal, and going to work was definitely something usual, something normal to her. Unfortunately though, one of her chemo rounds was scheduled quite close to Thanksgiving, and her loss of appetite and strength made for a depressing holiday. She tried hard though, to make it normal, for me and my dad. She's so selfless and so strong. She made it through the surgery, the chemo, the radiation, the loss of strength, the hair loss, the agony of never knowing. She's still here today, healthy, ready for another, non-chemo Thanksgiving. Her journey was one I don't know if I could've made. She's so strong, I look up to her with such idolizing eyes. I love her more than most can know, and look back on that Friday, that started it all, and think, "what doesn't kill ya makes you stronger!" It's true.
I'm thankful for the good health of Cadence, Kate, My father, James, and my Grandparents. And I'm thankful for My Mom. The one whose strength kept her going, the one whose love is unconditional, the one who never gave up. And the one who made it through that long journey, that's still standing here today, healthy and amazing.
I Love you Mom.
I'm thankful for you.
And to change, since I wrote this my Grandfather, Ed, passed away this past October. He was taken by a very agressive cancer almost certainly caused by agent orange (used during the vietnam war-joining to my other note of hating war), and we all miss him dearly.
I'm thankful for him, too. That he took care of my grandma and father after an original loss. That he did love and the way in which he did so. And every quiet, happy memory I have of him.
I Love you too, Grandpa Ed.
So, a month or so ago Julie comes up to me and asks: "What are you thankful for?" as a question for the newspaper. I stutter as I normally do with questions that are on the record, and come up with the word friends. I mean, it's simple right? Friends are cool, they give you something to look forward to, to keep your day going. But the problem was I couldn't think of anything else. The other answers I heard around me were great, like music and family, but is that really all I'm thankful for? The basics? I'm not complaining, I'm definitely grateful for such things, but while trying to answer that question it occurred to me that I couldn't think of much of anything that I was thankful for.
My earlier blog that I wrote a few weeks ago dealt with my feelings on the Holidays and what they are like now, as I get older. Sure, it was a bit overdramatic but the fact still stands that things in my life are changing and I am getting older, but looking back on that I think, am I being selfish? "I can't be thankful for what I have, I need more." That's something I look down upon, so it upset me.
Today in health we talked about Cancer, and eventually got to the subject of breast cancer. Mrs. Correa explained that doctors may have to do a mastectomy (removal of the breast) in order to get rid of the malignant tumor. She phrased it as we either take the breast, or it's your life. This brought me back to last fall, when that was the choice my own mother had to make, and with that memory came a few tears that I tried desperately to cover up during class. But why am I crying? Look at what I have, what I have to be thankful for.
I get a message from Zach, asking what I'm doing for Thanksgiving, and I start to explain that it's going to be the same boring, "wake up and watch the parade, eat turkey… or game hens, and just be with my parents, bored." Then I heard my mom in my head, saying that no matter what this Thanksgiving was obviously going to be better than last year, because last year she had no appetite because of the chemo. I typed that out to him, and when I read over the message realized what I should have said that day when Julie came up and asked, "What are you thankful for?"
Here's what I'm really thankful for. I'm thankful, yes, for my friends, music, family, the food, etc… But I'm so massively thankful for the good health of my family, namely my mom, the survivor. One Friday in September I found out my mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer, the road ahead was bumpy and the future seemed so morbid. After they performed the mastectomy she was started on chemo, which was hard for her and my family. Her loss of energy and her change of appearance was a constant reminder that there was still a long road ahead, or maybe just a short road with a dead end. Nothing was for sure. She kept persisting though, and kept strong through it all. She still went into work more often than she needed (and probably should've) and was stronger than any I've seen. I think she had to have something that seemed normal, and going to work was definitely something usual, something normal to her. Unfortunately though, one of her chemo rounds was scheduled quite close to Thanksgiving, and her loss of appetite and strength made for a depressing holiday. She tried hard though, to make it normal, for me and my dad. She's so selfless and so strong. She made it through the surgery, the chemo, the radiation, the loss of strength, the hair loss, the agony of never knowing. She's still here today, healthy, ready for another, non-chemo Thanksgiving. Her journey was one I don't know if I could've made. She's so strong, I look up to her with such idolizing eyes. I love her more than most can know, and look back on that Friday, that started it all, and think, "what doesn't kill ya makes you stronger!" It's true.
I'm thankful for the good health of Cadence, Kate, My father, James, and my Grandparents. And I'm thankful for My Mom. The one whose strength kept her going, the one whose love is unconditional, the one who never gave up. And the one who made it through that long journey, that's still standing here today, healthy and amazing.
I Love you Mom.
I'm thankful for you.
And to change, since I wrote this my Grandfather, Ed, passed away this past October. He was taken by a very agressive cancer almost certainly caused by agent orange (used during the vietnam war-joining to my other note of hating war), and we all miss him dearly.
I'm thankful for him, too. That he took care of my grandma and father after an original loss. That he did love and the way in which he did so. And every quiet, happy memory I have of him.
I Love you too, Grandpa Ed.
Teenagers scare the living shit out of me (old)
These are not the best days of our lives, they are the hardest.
That alone should give us all some hope...that even though these years are, for lack of a better word, shitty, it can only get better.
But right now we're too old to hide, yet there's nowhere to run.
We're told to enjoy these years, "you're only young once-ya know", but we are also told to take care of our ocean of responsibilites. And to balance both is a skill we have yet to fully grasp.
We're told not to give in to peer pressure, but that 'pressure is never clearly defined.
Is the pressure in the drugs, the sexuality, the alcohol?
Is the pressure not to do your homework, to DO your homework?
Is the pressure to speak what you think, or is it to just listen?
Is the pressure to beleive in one-or many, or to deny all belief?
Is the pressure to be skinny, to be fat, to be athletic, to be artistic?
Is the pressure to be happy, to love, to be sad, to take pills, to use a knife?
Is the pressure to deal with you're pain, to laugh it away, to hide it, to slice it away?
Is the pressure to be real, or to just accept that we're dying. Always.?
-Define it for us, then maybe we'll listen.
We're forced into a pool of sexuality. Where the blood runs for the girls who are "smart", and doesn't for the girls who are "irresponsible". Where everyone at some point, feels alone-then rushed to love. Where rules are broken when girls kiss boys, girls kiss girls, boys kiss boys, and boys kiss girls. Where heart-fluttering spin the bottle is out, and hardcore making out is in. Sex happens here. Sex happens now. Too early. Too late. Everyone's onfused and answers are not even in existence.
Right now we sometimes can't find reasons to follow the rules adults set, yet we're still forced to follow them.
Rebellion breaks out, but if caught we're broken down.
We're reminded, over and over and over, about college and that it's all we must focus on, for that is our future.
We're forced to put our health, our sanity on the backburner while school takes over. We often get more pressure from our teachers than our peers. But both combined...is relentless.
Days pass in minutes, and half of us wants to slow down while the other half wants to skip everything, for this is way too difficult to fathom. For anyone to fathom.
We say fuck because we can, and because our parents don't want us to.
Our leashes are long, but we're still tied up.
We can make it to the edge, but can't jump over. We can't leap into a different world and try to fly...even though that's all we want to do.
“High school, those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that.”
-Little Miss Sunshine
That alone should give us all some hope...that even though these years are, for lack of a better word, shitty, it can only get better.
But right now we're too old to hide, yet there's nowhere to run.
We're told to enjoy these years, "you're only young once-ya know", but we are also told to take care of our ocean of responsibilites. And to balance both is a skill we have yet to fully grasp.
We're told not to give in to peer pressure, but that 'pressure is never clearly defined.
Is the pressure in the drugs, the sexuality, the alcohol?
Is the pressure not to do your homework, to DO your homework?
Is the pressure to speak what you think, or is it to just listen?
Is the pressure to beleive in one-or many, or to deny all belief?
Is the pressure to be skinny, to be fat, to be athletic, to be artistic?
Is the pressure to be happy, to love, to be sad, to take pills, to use a knife?
Is the pressure to deal with you're pain, to laugh it away, to hide it, to slice it away?
Is the pressure to be real, or to just accept that we're dying. Always.?
-Define it for us, then maybe we'll listen.
We're forced into a pool of sexuality. Where the blood runs for the girls who are "smart", and doesn't for the girls who are "irresponsible". Where everyone at some point, feels alone-then rushed to love. Where rules are broken when girls kiss boys, girls kiss girls, boys kiss boys, and boys kiss girls. Where heart-fluttering spin the bottle is out, and hardcore making out is in. Sex happens here. Sex happens now. Too early. Too late. Everyone's onfused and answers are not even in existence.
Right now we sometimes can't find reasons to follow the rules adults set, yet we're still forced to follow them.
Rebellion breaks out, but if caught we're broken down.
We're reminded, over and over and over, about college and that it's all we must focus on, for that is our future.
We're forced to put our health, our sanity on the backburner while school takes over. We often get more pressure from our teachers than our peers. But both combined...is relentless.
Days pass in minutes, and half of us wants to slow down while the other half wants to skip everything, for this is way too difficult to fathom. For anyone to fathom.
We say fuck because we can, and because our parents don't want us to.
Our leashes are long, but we're still tied up.
We can make it to the edge, but can't jump over. We can't leap into a different world and try to fly...even though that's all we want to do.
“High school, those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that.”
-Little Miss Sunshine
Change-unite (old)
I don’t pledge myself to the flag, any flag.
I don’t want to just be part of a division,
I want to be part of the world.
A world that can unite and realize we can live together,
Happily,
Peacefully,
Naturally.
We have the brains,
The power,
The love.
Controversies can be compromised,
We can make it better.
Better for everyone,
Not just one class,
Race
Religion,
But everyone.
The wars brought on millions of deaths.
Over what?
Land,
For the better of their division,
Not the world.
I try not to focus on America,
On only us.
SOMEONE needs to think about the land
Beyond the coasts,
Behind the walls.
It may take centuries,
To unite us,
To realize it’s about doing the right things,
Not doing things right.
But if we don’t instigate CHANGE
We will always be divided.
Into nations that are selfish,
Numerous,
And warring.
2007 was the year of hate.
People everywhere living in the past.
During the time of
The holocaust,
Separation of colors,
Hatred.
We CANNOT change the past,
Only the future.
If we dwell in the past,
Our future will reflect the same.
An infinite circle of déjà vu.
The past is nothing,
It is behind us.
The future is everything,
It is our world,
It is their world,
What we WILL live in,
And what our children will be BORN in.
Don’t keep it full of hatred,
Doubt,
Deceit,
Selfishness.
Don’t keep it divided.
We can be the generation,
Who instigates the change
That can bring a better,
United world.
We ARE the people
Who shall form a more perfect union.
A large world-wide union.
Stop and think.
Society,
Stop progressing in the dark,
And start changing into light,
Persist,
Learn,
Change,
Change we CAN’T,
To we CAN.
YES WE CAN.
Change,
And unite.
The savior (old)
Savior
Thanksgiving.
Signifies cooperation, trust, compassion, and will to live.
That of course somehow translates to a large plethora of family values, giving thanks to god and other main figures that fit close to our hearts, which ironically doesn’t usually encompass the Native Americans, and an over surplus of food.
Family Values.
Can be great, if you have the patience to understand them and make them work and if absolutely everyone has the will to make them work. It can be great. But in many cases the quintessential idea of a thanksgiving meal is seen only in minds.
Even the quintessential idea of a train-wrecked thanksgiving meal is so far off it seems to only happen in tales.
If drinking chardonnay alone after a once in a lifetime sit down meal that lasted about 10 minutes is what American’s yearn for-we’d be set.
It’s the usual story of the gravy gone wrong, forgetting to buy whipped cream for the pie, and fighting in the kitchen as it all spirals down. In the movie version there would be a touching moment to tie everything together, to show some kind of moral.
But not here, in real life where tensions still run high. There are reasons for this.
Depression emanates through the season and only seems to get stronger because of the contrasts it takes on against the “jolly” time. However depression is not depicted in these movies because it’s too boring without the rush of blood or the comical drama of therapy. This is perhaps how there can be a touching moral to the story, because almost everything can be quickly mended except depression.
You can’t blame yourself for anything that goes wrong, for that will just make your world a little darker-so when the wrong juice is poured into the gravy mixture and the beans aren’t made and nothing is quite right, it isn’t your fault-it’s theirs. “Theirs” being either a member or the whole family. And when the blame gets thrown argument emerges, whether or not that’s what you intended.
And that’s what tips it off. If the tensions are high and the feelings aren’t happy then why bother having a long conversation while slowly eating the food that everyone knows could have been better if someone had just paid attention?
So it is eaten in almost total conversational silence while the mind wonders how life got to be so dreary instead of thinking of giving thanks.
From this hell, a full glass of chardonnay can save you though. While the others clear the dishes the strained silence finally turns to the peaceful silence of a single person, not trying to keep the intensity of topic low. It warms your mouth with that burning sensation and keeps your thought processes regressing to the times before the best part of thanksgiving was slipping into bed.
There was always a party, back at school right around the national holiday. Some kids would dress up as pilgrims and others as the “Indians”. I always brought wild rice.
I used to never watch the Macy’s day parade too, for I was always busy having fun and reacquainting myself with my mother’s second cousins. We would go to their house every year on this day. It was a large family meal that almost fit the picturesque thanksgiving. Now though the main thing I look forward to is that drawn out parade. It doesn’t raise my spirits, but it gives me something at least a little festive for me to do.
The contrasts hurt the most, I think, between the time when I wasn’t even allowed to drink alcohol to now.
It was better before the alcohol.
But as I said, it saves me.
Signifies cooperation, trust, compassion, and will to live.
That of course somehow translates to a large plethora of family values, giving thanks to god and other main figures that fit close to our hearts, which ironically doesn’t usually encompass the Native Americans, and an over surplus of food.
Family Values.
Can be great, if you have the patience to understand them and make them work and if absolutely everyone has the will to make them work. It can be great. But in many cases the quintessential idea of a thanksgiving meal is seen only in minds.
Even the quintessential idea of a train-wrecked thanksgiving meal is so far off it seems to only happen in tales.
If drinking chardonnay alone after a once in a lifetime sit down meal that lasted about 10 minutes is what American’s yearn for-we’d be set.
It’s the usual story of the gravy gone wrong, forgetting to buy whipped cream for the pie, and fighting in the kitchen as it all spirals down. In the movie version there would be a touching moment to tie everything together, to show some kind of moral.
But not here, in real life where tensions still run high. There are reasons for this.
Depression emanates through the season and only seems to get stronger because of the contrasts it takes on against the “jolly” time. However depression is not depicted in these movies because it’s too boring without the rush of blood or the comical drama of therapy. This is perhaps how there can be a touching moral to the story, because almost everything can be quickly mended except depression.
You can’t blame yourself for anything that goes wrong, for that will just make your world a little darker-so when the wrong juice is poured into the gravy mixture and the beans aren’t made and nothing is quite right, it isn’t your fault-it’s theirs. “Theirs” being either a member or the whole family. And when the blame gets thrown argument emerges, whether or not that’s what you intended.
And that’s what tips it off. If the tensions are high and the feelings aren’t happy then why bother having a long conversation while slowly eating the food that everyone knows could have been better if someone had just paid attention?
So it is eaten in almost total conversational silence while the mind wonders how life got to be so dreary instead of thinking of giving thanks.
From this hell, a full glass of chardonnay can save you though. While the others clear the dishes the strained silence finally turns to the peaceful silence of a single person, not trying to keep the intensity of topic low. It warms your mouth with that burning sensation and keeps your thought processes regressing to the times before the best part of thanksgiving was slipping into bed.
There was always a party, back at school right around the national holiday. Some kids would dress up as pilgrims and others as the “Indians”. I always brought wild rice.
I used to never watch the Macy’s day parade too, for I was always busy having fun and reacquainting myself with my mother’s second cousins. We would go to their house every year on this day. It was a large family meal that almost fit the picturesque thanksgiving. Now though the main thing I look forward to is that drawn out parade. It doesn’t raise my spirits, but it gives me something at least a little festive for me to do.
The contrasts hurt the most, I think, between the time when I wasn’t even allowed to drink alcohol to now.
It was better before the alcohol.
But as I said, it saves me.
This is my favorite peice of photography that was actually done by me.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
I can knit and I'm afraid.
I can knit and I'm afraid.
I'm sure you're wondering what the hell this post could be about and what the symbolic meaning behind my ambiguous title could be.
But there is none. There is no path, no reason for those words to be welded together into a structurally sound sentence.
And so with that, I will begin.
College provides a known road to travel, a reason to rise in the morning. It helps to create the same comforting feel that you had at home for 18 long years. Knowing that the place you come home to every night will be your place of rest for the next four years. The building may change, sure, but the place-the campus with the people you know and the schedule you've become accustom-will not. In this way college is just an extension of your years at home. It gives you peace of mind and direction and promises to be a safe haven where you can explore without fear of getting lost alone.
I am not going to that place. And this is why I'm afraid.
Every morning when I wake up in my bed, in the town i've known for 9 years I feel normal. It feels right. I cannot comprehend that there is anything else because for nearly 18 years of my life, the only years I know, I have been here. With my parents. Being secure in the knowledge that they will protect me and provide for me. I was scared when we moved here, away from the only thing I knew as home for 8 years, but at least I had guidance. At least I could cling to the knowledge that it was not really me venturing out into the unknown it was just us, the family, establishing a new familiar.
On occasion, though, I have woken up in this familiar bed and already felt nostalgia for it. It's only happened late in my junior year and throughout my senior year of high school. There are obvious reasons for why this occurs but it isn't the same nostalgia that my classmates feel. They know they'll miss their roots, but they've got a place to go-a new familiar place to make and they, very soon, will know exactly where that is. And they know how they will spend their next four years. For they have applied to college, and that is their path.
I haven't. I have no plan. I have no set desires; I'm just as indecisive as I always have been. And looking down my path I only see a murky haze, that has yet to settle but is quivering with expectation.
When I chose to take this gap year I had my reasons. School has the connotation of pain and force and I have no desire to learn from a desk. Learning has never truly been a passion of mine anyway. It's been a passion of my peers which I have followed down the road of AP courses and stretching to get that A. But I don't feel that I've come away with much, besides a trip to the mental hospital. And sure, I have knowledge but it was a struggle and it isn't something I want to throw myself into right away for the sake of "that's what everyone does," or "that's what you're supposed to do."
But now I'm stuck. I'm stuck with the possibility of doing nothing with a year. Wasting a piece of my life-time I'll never get back.
And I am horrified. I keep going back and forth on my options and always land where I started-knowing these factors:
I've gotten a couple of offers for places to stay, things to do. But I'm afraid of limiting myself, falling into the monotony of everyday life and forgetting of my dreams to travel because I'm thrust into the real world and realize that, realistically, I can't go to iceland and help on a farm, I don't have the means; realistically, I can't go to Greece and work in a hotel in exchange for food and shelter-I don't have the means and this poses too big of a threat for a lone young foreign girl; realistically I can't just get dropped off somewhere in New Zealand and somehow make my way around-finding things to do, places to stay, and things to eat.
So I'm still stuck. I still have the paradox of having too many options and not enough options at the same time.
I wish I could say I'm taking the path less traveled because I'm not marching straight to the college life, but I'm not on the path.
I'm sure you're wondering what the hell this post could be about and what the symbolic meaning behind my ambiguous title could be.
But there is none. There is no path, no reason for those words to be welded together into a structurally sound sentence.
And so with that, I will begin.
College provides a known road to travel, a reason to rise in the morning. It helps to create the same comforting feel that you had at home for 18 long years. Knowing that the place you come home to every night will be your place of rest for the next four years. The building may change, sure, but the place-the campus with the people you know and the schedule you've become accustom-will not. In this way college is just an extension of your years at home. It gives you peace of mind and direction and promises to be a safe haven where you can explore without fear of getting lost alone.
I am not going to that place. And this is why I'm afraid.
Every morning when I wake up in my bed, in the town i've known for 9 years I feel normal. It feels right. I cannot comprehend that there is anything else because for nearly 18 years of my life, the only years I know, I have been here. With my parents. Being secure in the knowledge that they will protect me and provide for me. I was scared when we moved here, away from the only thing I knew as home for 8 years, but at least I had guidance. At least I could cling to the knowledge that it was not really me venturing out into the unknown it was just us, the family, establishing a new familiar.
On occasion, though, I have woken up in this familiar bed and already felt nostalgia for it. It's only happened late in my junior year and throughout my senior year of high school. There are obvious reasons for why this occurs but it isn't the same nostalgia that my classmates feel. They know they'll miss their roots, but they've got a place to go-a new familiar place to make and they, very soon, will know exactly where that is. And they know how they will spend their next four years. For they have applied to college, and that is their path.
I haven't. I have no plan. I have no set desires; I'm just as indecisive as I always have been. And looking down my path I only see a murky haze, that has yet to settle but is quivering with expectation.
When I chose to take this gap year I had my reasons. School has the connotation of pain and force and I have no desire to learn from a desk. Learning has never truly been a passion of mine anyway. It's been a passion of my peers which I have followed down the road of AP courses and stretching to get that A. But I don't feel that I've come away with much, besides a trip to the mental hospital. And sure, I have knowledge but it was a struggle and it isn't something I want to throw myself into right away for the sake of "that's what everyone does," or "that's what you're supposed to do."
But now I'm stuck. I'm stuck with the possibility of doing nothing with a year. Wasting a piece of my life-time I'll never get back.
And I am horrified. I keep going back and forth on my options and always land where I started-knowing these factors:
- I like to knit.
- I don't want to go to college yet.
- I don't want to work a high school level job all year.
- I want to travel out of the country, but the destination has changed several times.
- I have no real means to travel. No program to go with, not enough money to support the urge, no place to stay, no promise of safety.
- I've fallen in love. (This makes it harder for my thoughts to look positively on my next year for I know it's foolish to try to keep this love with me as our paths change and there are no signs that they'll converge again. In other words, I'm almost too focused on ending this love and how much it will hurt, that I'm not putting enough thought into what I'm going to do next year.)
- I'm good at stage managing, but I don't want a career in this.
- I want to go to college eventually, but when I do enter it, i'd like to enter it with a better sense of self, a want to be their, and a direction for my life in mind. I want to spend this year making sure I don't flounder around too much in college...i want to use college for the things I already know I want.
- I want to learn to cook for myself.
- I like to read.
- If money wasn't a factor I wouldn't go to college.
- I really really like movies.
- I love rain.
- I'm scared of many things including a lot of wildlife, so even though I dream of just walking down a nice road and camping out wherever, I'm pretty sure I'd be too scared to do it.
- I'm able to get over most of my fears as long as I have someone I trust with me.
- The only skill I've thought to possess as unique to me is writing. And I'm even starting to question that-I have too perfect of friends. But I do like writing, free-hand. As I'm doing now.
- My friends tell me that they're excited for me, and they know i'll have awesome adventures.
- Most people I've talked to about my gap year support me in it and say, if they could do it over, they would've taken time off before going to college.
- I'd much prefer to take a gap year with a friend then by myself. That way It might not be so scary and alone.
So I'm still stuck. I still have the paradox of having too many options and not enough options at the same time.
I wish I could say I'm taking the path less traveled because I'm not marching straight to the college life, but I'm not on the path.I'm not on any path.
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