the holidays that aren't.

Well, I actually have one point of good news: I GOT INTO KEUKA COLLEGE! Yes, I am happy. However, I know my parents are worried about finances and that makes me paranoid. I have already found a few scholarships I want to apply for and WILL apply for. Keuka is the perfect college for me: it has my major, it's small, the campus is beautiful and it is perfect distance from rochester and syracuse. Perfection? I believe so.

Everything else, when it comes to thelifeofjennigraham is not so terrific. I'm having major people issues. One person to be specific. She is the one person I know I should not butt heads with, but nevertheless we continue to do so. One thing is for sure - this will never end. There will ALWAYS be tension between us and I am doing everything within me not to explode. Maybe I should? No, I'm going to be mature. However, I don't think I have ever met someone quite this disrespectful and selfish. I hate saying all this, but it is the only way to get it off my chest.

My emotions are still on high and maybe that is why every little thing is getting to me. Thankfully, Sara moved in with us. I am feeling a bit more at ease with her nearby. She is a positive person and we have gotten along well the last two years - so why not a few more months? Yet, I still get irritated with every little thing. No one quite understands how Matt's death effects me. It has changed me and I didn't expect anything different. Some people need to realize that small things are getting to me easilier then usual and to back off with the rude comments. I'm a nice person and maybe that's my issue. I need to stand up for myself. Why is that so hard for me to do?

I have been writing a little bit and thinking of yet ANOTHER book idea. This one I am very excited about. A lot of it comes from my current situation, but as the plot progresses it will become totally different. Here's the first paragraph. Obviously, this is almost all taken from my life:

His hands were cold and his eyelids were still, yet my fingers encompassed his as if my touch would wake him. The machinery beeped from behind his cot and the IV drip seemed to keep on crawling through the tubes that melted into his skin. His lips were separated slightly and I watched them, waiting for a breath to seep through or his voice to sound once again.
I set my forehead on his hand and his skin was simply leather against my own. Still, I waited. I watched for the twitch of a finger or the pulse of blood in his veins. I waited for the nurses to run into his room once again and help him sit up straight so he could feel comfort. I wanted them to rearrange his trache so I at least knew he was still there – in some form.
The coldness of his skin grew stronger and that strength began to burn. I looked up into his face and outlined his features – his naturally tanned skin, the thin scar near his chin from falling at the office, the small goatee he had been trying to grow for weeks. It all seemed so real, but I had already become numb to the truth.
A hand lightly clenched my shoulder and I quickly sat up, setting my head onto it. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I didn’t want to leave him.
“We have to go. It’s time,” she whispered. I shook my head and clenched his fingers tightly beneath my own – not willing to let go. She set her hand atop my own, fire and ice, and encompassed both of ours. Slowly, she lifted mine off of his and wrapped her fingers around my own.
“It will never be time,” I barely whimpered. Then I turned towards my mother, sunk my face into her chest and just let the tears fall.

the only thing on my mind.

Here's another poem I wrote having to do with my brother's death:

Neon green frowns tremble
Beneath the numerical eyes
Of the monster behind you.
Yet you remain still-
Knowing this monster may save your life
With its uncanny wisdom.

But how do we know this monster
Holds more truth then you?
For you are my superman –
My fallen hero
Still up for one more battle
Against this unknown temptress.

So, keep those numerical eyes blinking,
Don’t let the neon green fade to a line.
For you aren’t fighting against the monster
You’re fighting against time.

the month from hell.

It has been a month since my brother passed away and it feels like it was just yesterday. I'm still numb to the fact that he is gone and am waiting for him to call or text or email me one of his goofy messages. I keep reminding myself that what happened this fall was real and it wasn't just an awful nightmare. However, I'm still just waiting to wake up.

I've been very unlike myself and I didn't expect anything less, really. I barely want to go out anymore or leave the apartment besides for school or work. Work is the highlight of my day. When I see the kids, it reminds me of what really matters in this world today and that is to help everyone survive. I barely ever want to drink and instead I have been so concentrated on the Twilight series that I have read the first two books within the past month (that's roughly 1,000 pages in 30 days - I'm usually a slow reader). I guess it drags me into a reality unlike my own and I can't help but be totally intoxicated by the story. I've also been writing alot and have written around 30 pages for my newest novel. It's good and I think that if I keep working hard that it will be a great success.

However, once I pause from my other reality, I go back to trying to pretend that the past month didn't happen and that Matt will walk through my door. I need someone to prove to me that there are such things as miracles and there are such things as spirits. Right now, I don't know what to believe.

everyone has been touched by cancer.

This story is one written by one of my campers from Camp Good Days and Special Times. She wrote this after finding out about the passing of my brother. PLEASE take a few minutes to read this:

I'm not sure how this exactly happened, but this morning I was changed.Everything I saw I all of a sudden viewed differently. The bus ride to school this morning was silent from conversation, as usual. Mostly filled with freshman, everyone sat by themselves and tried to stay awake. Williamsville is quite dead at 7 o'clock in the morning. As I sat anxiously on the red leather seat, awaiting the Friday ahead of me, taking in the only noise of everyone's MP3 players that all mixed together sounded like static. Today everyone at school would be excited, in a good mood. My friends would fill me in on what parties were going on, who was going to be smoking weed for the first, and who was planning on hooking up with that sexy foreign exchange student. I, myself, was grounded from going out Friday and Saturday night for violating a "strict no talking back policy." Last night, I had been very upset because of it. This morning, it was the last thing on my mind. Yeah, everyone at school would be very excited. But I'm damn sure my friend Jenni Graham wasn't worried about catching rides to and from the coolest parties tomorrow night.

Although she of all people I knew was the one needing a fun weekend.I met Jenni 3 summers ago at camp. She was one of my counselors. She had just graduated high school and I believed she was the coolest human being to ever walk the earth. She had long curly brown hair that spiraled so gorgeous, and she had a nose ring. At the age of 12 nothing could've impressed me more than a nose ring. How cool was that? She was more of a camper to our cabin than a counselor. She stayed up with us late at night and we all talked about the most interesting of topics. Camp was the time of my life. No one lives by anyone, so no one really talks to each other except over the computer and phone during the year. But when we got off the buses at the Camp Good Days estate next summer, we all hugged. And cried. Then everything was as if we hadn't not just seen each other in 12 months. Jenni, again was one of our counselors. She told us about her first year at college, we told her our less exciting stories. The week was over we went home, and then another year passed. We came back to camp. The Lake, the food, all the goofy people were exactly the same. It was the one place we knew would never change. No matter how terrible the year was, we had something to look forward to. Always. The friendships I've come to make through camp, like ones with Shelby and Amanda and Jenni and Maggie, were like nothing I've ever experienced. Communication wasn't important for once in a world when it's all we think about. All that matters is knowing we have something in common, and we're all good people. And knowing that, every summer we'd have the time of our lives. The most fun that could ever be had was had.So this morning before I got on the bus I had some extra time.

I went on the computer, checked my MySpace and Facebook. I was thinking about camp this morning, and for no particular reason, Jenni. I decided to see what she's been up to and viewed her MySpace page. I read under her heroes her brother passed away on October 14th. Cancer. That's the first thing I thought of. Turns out, he HAD died from cancer. I couldn't believe it. As a young child Jenni had been touched by it too. She, unlike her late brother Matthew, was obviously a survivor. I had heard this story too many times. I immediately texted my friend from camp Amanda. She was very surprised (as I was too) I didn't know. So I asked her about what happened and her text that filled me in on how it had all went down so suddenly was received to my phone when I was on the bus. I looked out the window after reading it just taking the details that I'm not going to share with you in, not even thinking how to respond to something like that yet. A beam of light hit my eyes directly as the bus driver turned a corner.

The light had hit me so suddenly, and was so bright. Why did the bus driver had to go this way, turn down that side street? Because he had a plan. His goal was to pick up as many students attending Williamsville South High School as he had to and drop them off at the school. God had aslo had a plan. He had a plan for Matthew when he took him on that October morning. But he also had a plan for my Godfather when he beat a hard battle with Leukemia. He had a plan for Amanda's (the girl I was texting) father when he took his life last spring, leaving a family fatherless. Who would take them to those Sabers' Games? Who would now give Amanda all of her advice? She didn't know those answers, but God knew he needed Mr. Preston somewhere else. I responded to the text: Amanda, we have to do something. I can't watch another friend suffer from a great loss from cancer. And the truth was I couldn't. There HAD to be something I could do. When my older sister Elizabeth was in elementary school she had Leukemia. I watched her get all her hair cut off when I was 5 years old. I will never forget sitting on my sister's bed, with my mom, while my sisters backside was facing us as she looked out her window. I was 8 this time. My mom looked at me and pointed to the back of Elizabeth's head. There, was the beginning of a bald spot. I looked at my mom and frowned. I will never forget was happened next. I saw the look of pain in my Mother's face as tears began to roll down her cheek. She noticed I was still looking at her, and wiped her face and smiled at me. "She's going to be okay. Your Biffers a fighter." My "Biff" was a fighter, and for the second time she beat the odds. She was a survivor. So why was it that Elizabeth lived while Matthew didn't? My godfather, Mike, who is also a dad, also beat it when Mr. Preston did not? Who would walk Amanda down the isle?If I ever knew where my place in the world was it was at that moment, when the light hit my eyes. I'm not exactly a born-again-Christian but I knew it had to of been god. I needed to tell people, get their help. None of my school friends knew how cancer can tear a family apart, how quickly it will make you lose hope, and how much pain one human being can go through. Rather it's been your sister that has had leukemia, your grandma who beat colon cancer, your aunt who died from breast cancer, your Nanny who passed from cancer, or your father who died from a brain tumor, we have ALL been affected by cancer. But for me, it just so happens I know way too many examples of being affected. If you weren't affected before reading this, which is very rare, you are now that you know me, my friends, and my family's sad stories.

We can make a difference. Next time you have the opportunity, DONATE! A few dollars can go a long way. If your interested in volunteering at my summer camp just ask me. Even if you don't know me, I don't care. Camp Good Days will change your life forever. As for me, I decided that when I'm older my occupation will have something to do with cancer. Rather it be a scientist doing research, a writer writing articles to get people aware, a social worker at Rosewell, or even something for Camp, it's what I have to do.If you didn't read all that, at least read this: Post a comment on how cancer has affected your life. What's your story? We're only kids, but so was Carly. Ever heard of Carly's Club? She and my sister were treated at Rosewell at the same time. She was such a nice girl with so many hopes and dreams. The difference? Elizabeth walked out of the hospital, while Carly was carried.Another story of mine worth reading:My sister missed just about her whole 4th grade year because she was being treated, and she was very sick.

My mom hired her a tutor. She came to our house many times a week and was just about the nicest lady you'd ever met. She had a son and a daughter a few years older than my sister and I. My family became very close with Mrs. Rouldoph, the tutor, and her family. She was a really good tutor and thanks to her my sister didn't have to be held back. It was almost a miracle. What was a bigger miracle was that year my sister also overcame her cancer, something the doctors told my mom was likely to not ever happen. My sister went to middle school the next year, and we still stayed in touch with the Rouldophs'. That year, the first year of Elizabeth being in middle school, Mrs. Rouldoph was diagnosed with the same type of cancer Liz had almost died of.Leukeumia again. We were there for her and her family every step of the way. Unfortunetly that wasn't enough for her life. She passed away. I believe her funeral was the first I've ever been to. After that, we sorta lossed touch with the Rouldoph's. Last thursday, I was sitting eating my cereal when I heard my mom say oh my god. Then she ran into the kitchen and dropped the newspaper in the counter. She looked at me and told me she just read about Mrs. Rouldoph's son. He was attending college where a week ago he'd hung himself. Why? I didn't want to know. How could he do that when he watched his own mother fight so very hard for her life? I was disgusted and distraught. Now, all that are left of the Rouldophs' are the father and the daughter.

This blog is dedicated to everyone in the world who has been affected by cancer.

- Kat



WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

waiting to hear you whisper in the wind.

This past month has been surreal. It still hasn't hit me that he isn't with us anymore. I'm still waiting to see him walk through the door or listen to one of his goofy messages. It doesn't seem right and it doesnt seem fair that someone, anyone, could go through this. Why him? Why anyone? Why cancer?



Here is some music worth listening to:
- Lighthouse by Hope
- Wine Red by The Hushdown
- Comatose by Skillet
- Count on my Love by Liz Phair
- Iris by Goo Goo Dolls


A book VERY worth reading:
- Twilight by Stephanie Meyer

what do we wait for when a miracle isn't enough?

a memory, a spirit.

Matthew D. Graham
A brother. A hero. A friend.

My brother passed away at 8:15 am on October 14, 2008. He died comfortably and with little pain. Even though it is hard to think this and say it - it's too surreal to believe. He was my only brother. He was my father's only son. He was my hero and taught me more then I learned during my years at school. He was a person who was dead honest and told the world the truth even when we didn't want to hear it at all. He had a beautiful mind and explored so much that it allowed his intelligence to spread into all of our hearts.

It's all like a horrid nightmare. Who dies in their thirties within a month? Who deserves to feel the pain that Matt did? We can all keep on asking these questions but they will never be answered. It's difficult to think that he watched me suffer and survive and I had to watch him suffer and pass away. It is all too unfair.

My brother is in a better place now - even though it is hard to state. Her left an imprint on all of our lives and we will still learn more from him even though he is only a spirit now.

just give me a miracle.

MATTHEWS POEM

A hand he holds out
Waiting for the world
To kiss his palm.
Oh and how that world flew.
The earth jumped,
The waves charged.
Yet when the angels came forth,
His fingers melted into a fist.
He didn’t want the world fighting for him,
He wanted to fight for the world.

And so they grew stubborn,
Those angels pushed to help.
Yet they ceased, knowing his strength;
Feeling his heart beat against the silk of their wings.
A heart so pure and a heart so profound –
The earth jumped,
The waves charged.
They fluttered back and painted the scene -
Of a man so full of light, of life
They fell into a shadow all their own.

A heart he holds out
Hoping for the world
To believe in him.
For miracles come in packages all their own.
Packages of love and light
And living the fight.
For living doesn’t mean feeling a change.
It takes the smoothness of a stone,
The velvet of a wave –
To teach the world it’s all in a thought,
All in the man,
And all in the world to just believe he can.
- jennigraham


PLEASE LOG ON TO WWW.MATTHEWDGRAHAM.COM
It is an informational website explaining his disease, his life - present and past - and is allowing donations as well as selling bracelets (all the money goes to medical finances). This has all taken so much out of all of us - friends and family. The cancer has spread to all his other major organs - all beside his heart. The doctors say that he is terminal, but Matthew will prove them wrong.

no time for falling backwards.

When did life become so unkind? Who had the idea that being cruel to one another would bring one closer in the strangest of ways? I don't get it. Today, everyone yells and insults and fights with everyone just because it has become a way of life and communication. It all began with war and went to slavery and went from there. It has tought people that cruelty is just something we all have to get used to. How much sadder can life get?

My brother continues to struggle with cancer. He still is terribly ill - has not opened his eyes, talked or moved his left side. He still looks like a barely breathing blob. He also has pneumonia, which is not good to deal with on top of all this. He will be finishing his first round of radiation, which I hope helps a lot. We need anything. I just want my brother back.

let's sing along
to 'all you need is love'
where did that thought go?
when did it dissapear?

cancer is hell.

My big brother, Matthew Graham, had a stroke Thursday morning. After being brought to the hospital, cancer was found in his arm, his lungs, his abdomen and his brain. After hearing this news, I raced home and we all left for Baltimore Friday morning. No one saw this coming. My brother is the most intelligent, strongest, couragous and thoughtful person I know. The fact that this is happening to him is absolutely unthought of.

Seeing him Friday for the first time was horrid. I had to wait a moment to go in and see him. There were tubes everywhere and he was unstable - not breathing on his own. The doctors say that he will need a miracle to get feeling back on the left side of his body (due to the stroke and the tumor over his brain stem). However, it will also take a miracle to get him healthy again.

My brother has always been my hero and the fact that he is this way makes me wonder why bad things happen to such wonderful people. Matt is strong and I KNOW he will fight this. He is stubborn and the fact that everyone has seen him so helpless must be killing him. He can hear us, but cannot respond with his voice. Right now, he can only use his right hand or head movement. Which, I believe - is more than the doctors expected for him to be doing at this time.

rollin' with the punches.

So my Birthday party was this weekend. Could have been better, to tell you the truth. I was so excited for it and so many people showed up - all of this made me so happy. But then the fights started and then the stealing started and it all went downhill from there. I've never been that tough, so confrontations bring me way down. I can't deal with them. I need to learn to be stronger and put my foot down. I'm sick of being stepped on.

MCC started up again. So far, I don't mind my classes. My Lit class is actually my favorite. I love to discuss the stories we read and the professor has already said some great things about me. I think it's going to make my writers block go away - or so I'm hoping. My History of Rock and Roll class is also phenomenal. It's so interesting and we just sit there and listen to music. It's relaxing. My Biology class makes me want to puke though. I hate it. It's not interesting and the professor goes through the lecture so quickly that I can barely take notes. My Sign Language class is so entertaining! The professor is deaf so we really have to try to learn the motions and expressions. I'm catching on quickly so that makes me feel good.

Today I had a breakdown. Every little thing was bothering me and it all just made me explode. Seeing my family was good, however. Yet, Carly worries me. She has no idea how much I love her and I'm so scared she is going to get sicker and sicker. I don't like that idea and I do not want her to dissapear because on this rate she might. I'm having issues with my living situation. That's all I will say. As I said above, I don't liketo be stepped on. Also, the whole 4-year college situation is always on the back of my mind. I don't like the idea of living in debt and there are some people in Rochester that I do not want to leave. Right now, Keuka is my #1 school and I hope it works out. It would be simply ideal.


she's as light as a feather
but as heavy as a stone
a stone in water - pushing away the waves
they always find their way
back to her.

death and thought

RIP MIKE WRIGHT
You will be missed and always remain loved.
You were a survivor and a fighter - one who will never be forgotten.

A blurb from Erin and my conversation about Camp Good Days after hearing about the death of our fellow CGD volunteer:

gOOdie637 (12:04:11 AM): yeah just like the fact that they had cancer and were touched by the same people at camp makes it all interconnected
jenni jenni 014 (12:04:41 AM): exactly. we're like all connected because someone knew someone who knew someone who was sick. alive or not. i miss that place
gOOdie637 (12:05:42 AM): exactly. me too


So on that note - school has begun. My classes seem decent - except for Bio which will be horrid. However, the other classes will be interesting. I'm hoping to do well enough to get into my school of choice. Oh yes - a new list of top 4-year colleges has been made:

1) Keuka College - Early Childhood/Special Education with emphasis on Child and Family studies
2) Utica College - Child Life, Early Childhood Ed.
3) SUNY Oneonta - Child, Family and Community Studies, Early Childhood Ed.
4) SUNY Geneseo - Early Childhood/Special Education
5) Canisius College - Child and Family Studies, Early Childhood Ed.

Keuka College would be perfect. It's smack in the middle of Syracuse and Rochester, so I can go equal distance to see my bests in ROC and my family in Cuse. Also, it isn't only on the lake and near Camp Good Days, it also has exacly what I want. EXACTLY. It still makes me sad that most of my friends will be staying in Rochester, but if the trip from Keuka to Roc is only an hour - it will be worth the trip.

I am very lonely. It's irritating - I want to find someone who will treat me the way I deserve to be treated. Actually, scratch that. I need HIM to find ME. I'm going to stop trying because when I least expect it, something great may happen. I know that I deserve something great.

awaiting autumn.

So, Baltimore was amazing. It truly was a terrific time. I loved the area and having a new location to explore. It was good to spend time with my older brother as well as Carly and my dad. I will definately be going down there again sometime soon. Either to visit my brother or look at possible graduate schools - if I ever get that far!

I've narrowed my 4-year college interests down to three schools:
1) Utica College - Child Life Program, Early Childhood
2) SUNY Oneonta - Child and Family Studies, Early Childhood
3) Canisius College - Child and Community Services, Early Childhood

I will be going into talk with advisors soon to figure out if my classes will transfer to each school and if I should change anything to be able to get there. I'm nervous - going through the whole applying process again. I also don't like the idea that I will be away from everyone I met @ MCC. I've never gone somewhere totally by myself and that idea scares the shit out of me. I just hope I am ready and I hope I succeed.

I've started writing again! Finally. Slowly, I'm writing another book. I'm hoping this one keeps my interest longer than the last one. It's interesting and I like the characters that I've thought up. Here's a couple beginning paragraphs from the story I'm playing around with:

There were souvenir bottles of unopened wine. Picture frames, which carried the faces of those known forever and those known for a moment. Fading denim with frayed knees and pleated skirts with matching blouses hidden beneath a box flooding with crocheted scarves and socks ripped at the heal.
For a moment, all I could do was stare. I watched my hands as they carefully folded my pink and lavender bed sheets that would be in hibernation mode for the next few months; skeptically piling them up from the comforter to the pillowcases. I began to stand up my picture frames on the rug, tracing the faces of those known for only one year, but who would be remembered for eternity with the tip of my finger. Mary. Naomi. Trevor. They were names that were carved into the front of my mind.
My bedroom smelled of honey and oak and looked emptier then the summer before leaving to St. Merlin University. My desk was cleared of all pens and literature books and dust was left to sleep in its place. My closet was filled with old sweaters and t-shirts with black writing scribbled all over the back from summers spent at camp. It was sad to see myself growing up and even more frightening to see such little change.

utter of an update.

UPDATE:

Possible 4-year college interests:
- Oneonta - child and family studies
- Canisius - child, family and community studies
- Brockport - childhood inclusice/human education
- Geneseo - early childhood/childhood education

So, this has been a stressor. Where to go? Hopefully I will figure it out this Fall.


1) Baltimore, MD this weekend with my father and sister to visit my big brother. I'm pretty excited. Hopefully it will be a chance to clear my head and relax.

2) I have been on a puppy-craze lately. I WANT A PUPPY. I want to prove to my family that I am responsible enough to own another living thing on my own. I have been looking online and through craigslist.com. Everything is too expensive. But, I'm still looking.

3) Oh yea, I still have pneumonia.

4) I think Joe Jonas is beautiful. I just thought I'd let whoever is reading this know. Beautiful + sings + plays guitar + straight = perfection. okay, that's that.

5) I'm probably going to be going to Turkey to volunteer @ Losev May 2009. I'm quite excited!



Yup, that's that.

a summer without the glitter.

So far this summer I have had:
- Pink eye
- Sinus infection
- Pink eye again
- Eye infection
- and now I have PNEUMONIA.

I thought that last summer was bad with me dealing with Mono and surgery for my sinuses. Now, I don't even know what to expect. I know I shouldn't be complaining because there are people much, much more worse off then me - like those sick with cancer. However, I keep asking myself, 'how much more of this will I be able to endure?'

Sometimes I look at myself and the mirror and feel ill. I don't like who I am and do not like who I am becoming. Sometimes I feel sick, dirty and disgusted when I look at myself because I know what I've put myself through is wrong. I want to change, but change is an obsticle that many have a hard time climbing. I always tell myself I need to do something to better my lifestyle - but I'm so lazy and forgetful that it always gets pushed to the side. I want to work out and make my health and body better. I want to stop drinking as much and making decisions I will dislike in the future. This summer has been different. I'm happy with myself because my social drinking has gone down. I'm thinking that's a good thing because now it is time to concentrate on what is in front of me so I wont fall back. But I don't even know what my future looks like. There is so much I want to do, but it will take so much time to get there. I NEED to go back to seeing a therapis weekly. That's for sure. I feel like I'm falling back and I do not like that - it scares me.

I'm still going to try to talk to Gonca, the turkish counselor from CGD & ST, and see if I could volunteer at their foundation in Turkey. I think that seeing a different lifestyle with different people and different rules would change me for the better. It would open my eyes to a world I've never been able to witness. I'd love that.

time of thought.

DOING A WORLD OF GOOD I was outstanding. Seriously, the most amazing week of my life. Words can't put a finger on how awesome this week was. From becoming close friends with the international kids to watching adults slide through mud puddles - everything was perfection. No one knows what it is like to be surrounded by individuals who are all at one place for one reason. Camp makes me whole. It fills me up with strength, hope and love for those suffering and those helping others stay alive. People do not understand the passion I have for this organization because they havn't lived it. Camp Good Days and Special Times is a reality outside of a reality. It's a place where everyone is 100% real, but in an atmosphere much unlike the one they are used to. I've been volunteering for 5 years now and I cannot see myself not being a part of this beautiful world.

Today my father came for a visit. It was the most emotional one yet. He wrote me a letter - pretty much expressing his thoughts since the divorce. It made my heart drop and really made me cry. It made me think about family and what it means to have a family that works. It seems that these days no one has a perfect family. Truthfully, perfection is merely impossible. However, the bumps in the road can make us stronger I guess. My father is someone who I see so much of myself in - sometimes scary and sometimes good. Yet, we all make mistakes and maybe it will take years to get over. But the emotion that remails, obvious or not, is love. No one can take that away.


"I wanna linger
a little longer
a little longer with you."

CAMP GOOD DAYS AND SPECIAL TIMES 08
miss&&love

an unforgotten tune.

she's riding horses through the night
with no one else in nearby sight
only fire flies and candle light
she only dreams to forget the fight.


I'm tired. I am always tired. It's strange being home. I've been home every weekend in July for either camp (by the way - DAWG I is next week =] ) or the garage party - which was excellant. However, being home makes me feel as if I'm in High School again and every morning when my sister and mom leave for their volleyball camp - I feel like I'm staying home sick like I did so many times in my past. I begin to look around the room and feel as if I'm in a cell and the same emotions come at me through the walls. It's scary. No one knows what I went through during those years - no one knows the details and the thoughts that attack me every day. I still feel the way I used to. Perhaps the feeling is a slightly different emotion, but it's still there and that's the problem.


I'm beginning to look at 4-year colleges and, again, I feel like I'm back in High School. I still feel hopeless, as if I'm not going to figure out where my life is taking me. However, I have been looking at a few different schools, but they're too expensive and private. It's annoying. If only I could either win the lotto or become famous over night, then everything would be perfect.

Yeah, we all wish.

a busy july.

Camp Good Days was terrific. It always is. Last week was USA Alumni - the week for parents or siblings of campers who had had cancer in the past. It's interesting, I actually heard a few stories that is usually unusual for that week. It's sad to hear stories of death or sickness, but it's good to know that children still have the heart to interact with others similar to them. CGD&ST is such a magnificant place and I cannot wait to go back at the end of July.

This weekend is the annual Garage Party - yes, it's finally here. I'm quite excited and ready to get away for another few days. I love being with my family and hearing about their school experiences and their relationships with others. It has always been difficult for Carly and I to go up and try to fit in with the Fessettes because of our distance. However, the family party allows that difficulty to usually dissapear and I hope that this weekend allows that.

So, I miss having someone to fall into the arms of. I miss being able to simply cuddle on the couch while watching a movie or laugh in bed before falling asleep. It may sound cheesy - but it's true. I feel as if I'm surrounded by couples - my roommate, my ex-roommate, my friends. It's hard because I begin to wonder what I've done wrong in the past and what I should to correct it. I don't know, but I guess all I can do is wait.

the laugh of a child.

'she tried to walk casually,
but her head was in the clouds.
the air rushing through
threads of hair
that had been untouched for weeks.
she kept her strength up
so those around her wouldn't thing it was low -
for it was.
oh, so low.
lower than the grass below the toes
that dug into pebbles and dirt.
lower than a struggling earthworm
fighting for a piece of light.
but this girl,
so quiet behind her cage,
had stories to tell.
stories that couldn't stay in the clouds forever.
stories hidden in threads of hair;
floating in the wind.
just waiting to be released.'


Camp Good Days begins next week and I am thrilled. Thrilled to not only escape, but just thrilled to be in a place where everything seemed to make sense and fit into place. I'm hoping this first week isn't a blur, but blends in with time. I hope it continues to open my eyes and make me learn something about others and myself. I'm positive that will not only happen this week, but during the week of the 21st as well.

I'm beginning another novel - to read. I'm still in this writers block mode that is KILLING me. The book I am reading is The Memory Keepers Daughter by Kim Edwards. I've heard from many that it is a great book and I hope it keeps my attention. I think it already has.

Working at Storybook Child Care has opened my eyes to so much within the past month. I've learned more about my love for helping children and more about the children I spend time with everyday. They are like miniature people - each with deep opinions and unique ideas. Sure it may become stressful, but the time spent there makes me content. It makes me feel young again. Hearing the children laugh makes me content and watching the children learn about their surroundings makes me thankful. I cannot see my future without interaction with children. I could not sit in a cubicle all day not talking to anyone. I'd much rather be with others who help me learn what it is like to be young and innocent again.

an invisible ache.

My summer has been, well, okay. It's different being away from home - good and bad. I miss seeing my mother and listening to my sister laugh with her friends. It's strange waking up and going to work everyday, even though I've come to enjoy it. Work isn't even work for me - it's passion. Being with children seems to make me less grumpy and more free. At least that's how I see it.

I'm going to be calling Strong Memorial Hospital to see if I can volunteer in the childrens oncology ward on the weekends. I think it will not only look good on my resume, but will open my eyes to a different reality - the reality I want to spend the rest of my life helping. With Camp coming up soon, my excitement continues to rage. Sure, there are some aspects this year that I am nervous about, but I'm excited to be at the one place that only results in positivity. I can go there and leave any drama from Roc behind me and focus on the kids there. My sister being one of those kids.

However, some things are still upsetting me. Certain people I once felt one way about have made me see them in a different light. It's weird how you can feel one way towards someone and then instantly want to blow up in their face the next. The only thing is - I don't understand why these feelings are here. This person dissapeared, out of the blue, for no reason that I am really aware of. It kills me because I want to know what I did wrong, if anything at all.


the brightest light will hurt you;
the dimmest light will correct the pain.

a change? a mission? a journey?

It's funny how things change. How people change. Or maybe it isn't exactly changing, but the idea of falling back onto what you always wanted. Within the past couple weeks I have been thinking about my future. Where it is going and what it will be like. Sure, it's hard to create a perfect image in your mind about something so willing to change - but it's that willingness that needs to be seen.

Everyday when I wake up and go to work, at the daycare, I find myself more and more wanting to work with children. Every since I was little, I was great with kids. I liked being around them and making them smile. That's why I'd do anything for those kids at work - even the ones I cannot stand. So now I'm starting to want to change my major... again. Back to Liberal Arts most likely. I'm starting to want to major in Early Childhood Develepment or Recreational Therapy. I want to be a Child Life Specialist. I love Camp Good Days and making kids who are struggling fire back and be strong. So, by working with sick children and helping them cope - I think my questions may be answered.

However, there's is always that question of writing. Where will it go? No where, duh. I NEED to write and WILL be an author. Maybe I do not need to major in communications or english to be published - I just have to be willing to keep giving it a shot.

a place where only dreams go.

I think every child wishes to be in a movie, a television show, a music video. When I was younger I would pretend I was in a movie - pretend that a camera was watching my every move and would try to look wonderful at all times. As I grew older, obviously I stopped pretending a camera was always on my heals and began to realize that fame isn't something that everyone gets to live. Still, I sometimes wish that I could just stumble into the mall and accidently run into a producer or director and for them to look at me and say, 'You're it!'

Yeah, right.

Today I spent the day sleeping and watching Across the Universe extra features with my cat. Yes, life is quite exciting. However, as I watched the behind the scenes, that childhood wish came back to me - the idea of being noticed. I watched the actors practice their vocals and act like normal, everyday humans. That whole idea of realism in someone so noticed made me wish that someday I will be able to get on stage and sing or that someday I will get my chance to shine. Whether it is from creating a novel or a screen play or actually going in front of a camera - I just want to be noticed. I'm not looking for fame, I'm looking for respect and recognition. Who doesn't wish for that?

A raison in the sun
is just a grape with a tan.
Something that wishes
to be better than something else.
The taste may be sweeter
but the life is oh so ill
Why try walking in shoes
you know no one can fill?

this will be the summer.

If I want to be a writer - I will do it.
If I want to be healthier - I will do it.
If I want to pay the rent - I will do it.
This will be the summer I do what I must.

So, I have decided that I need to go back to being myself. I will begin reading over my novel and editing it as well as adding to its pages. I will go to Bally's five out of the seven days of the week before work to become healthier. I will work everyday and not miss any so I have the money to comfortably survive on my own. It's strange how quickly a child has to become an adult - no matter what. It's frightening - my first summer away from home and in my own apartment. Yet, I will do it. I will write; I will work out; I will work. I will survive like I have before.


She climbed out of the ditch, her car spread across the tar in bits of broken glass. The color seemed to had faded from a maroon to crystal and she dared move an inch. She was stranded in the middle of the summer, in the middle of a bed of fire that surrounded a body so fragile and tired.

She knew she could do better. She knew she had faced death more than once and could survive past this trial. She got to her feet, brushing the gravel from her stone-gray jeans. She began to walk, pressing the number 911 into her phone. She knew she could get help and she knew she had to keep her head looking up towards the clouds that washed past her eyes with the brightest of whites.

The angels has carried her once again and would continue to be her shadow.

the birds wont sing if we don't listen.

paper cup flowers drown out my eyes
like neon lights streaming over the dullest streets
small and delicate, hiding a secret fear
will the wind blow them over?
will the rain drown their light?

there are tin foil trees falling down with the petals
their colors are of the brightest golds and greens
strong and reckless, but hiding a fault
why fear such beauty
when it has never been seen?

floating like mist we all tumble down
through highways of soot and pebbles and sand
they walk into our paths as we crawl through their own
but the end is rewarding
the end tastes so sweet
when a silver seedling
is what you meet

"i'm a rover."

'My eyes are as bright as stone
yours are as bright as the sea
come to me, fall into my arms
let's be all that we can be.'


Time has always been an important aspect of my life. Whether it is time for me to be alive during the days of chemotherapy or time for me to take a step forward or back just to see what lays ahead. Right now, time is a strangely difficult factor. I want time to move quickly because I want to move into my apartment. Yet, I want time to move by slowly so certain feelings or specific memories can last a little bit longer. I wish time could fast forward, stop and rewind. However, life isn't that wondrous.

I don't know what it is, but I remain in a rut. This 'writing rut,' you could call it. I feel stranded and unable to even get further into my novel. Does this mean this novel will not succeed? Does this mean I will never become accomplished? I believe not. I finally got the MCC magazine I had submitted a story to and read my short story. I was utterly impressed and proud. Still, I need something more. Maybe it all revolves around time. I need more time. But all we will ever recieve is less.


there is a boy.
my heart beats twice as fast when our fingers touch.
i worry, however.
i worry he will dissapear.
i worry i will fail myself again.
i worry that i will never be enough.
there is a boy.
i'm falling for.

"Come home - keep me from these sleepless nights."

'But with you by my side
I can do anything
When we swing
We hang past right or wrong.'
Velvet Underground, I'm Sticking With You

I guess it's about that time where I should stop trying. Well, maybe not when it comes to everything - but to certain aspects of my life. I need to stop trying so hard to impress people. I need to stop trying to be someone I know I can't be. I need to stop being paranoid about the unknown. I need to stop pretending like I'm the strong one when really I'm the weakest. I need to start breathing again.

Risperdal and Celexa can't stop me from being who I am. Sure, maybe they alter it slightly, but it can't be that extreme because I haven't changed, I've only calmed down. I've been on them for three years and I still wonder to myself why I am still so nervous. Why I am still anxious and why I continue to look down upon myself. It isn't me, but the environment I bring upon myself. I make certain things happen and because of that I worry.

Here is an excerpt from Margaret Atwood's novel entitled Cat's Eye:
"Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space. If you bend space, you can bend time also, and if you knew enough and could move faster than light you could travel backward in time and exist in two places at once."

My twelth grade creative writing teacher told me years ago to read this novel. I have only begun it, but I already see its beauty. The way Atwood creates imagery to her pages is flawless. She brings the reader into a world where they can picture a scene, a character, a vision clearly and without much thought but the words being brought to the page. I wish I could write like that. Sometimes, I think I can. Lately, I feel like I am still falling apart as a writer. I keep telling myself to keep going, keep going. I just can't get back into the story I have been composing.

I hate being in a rut.

kaleidoscope eyes.

You're the song that I sing out of tune.
You're the silver star beside a golden moon.
Sometimes I fall then you fall too.
But if you help me up I'll know this feeling's true.


I've pretty much become my own worst enemy. Perhaps this is just how I see myself at times, but I believe it to be a fact. I feel that everyone I enjoy the company of, I push away unintentionally. Maybe this is just because I can't trust anyone, men mostly, and I need to squint a little bit to see the situtation clearer. I get nervous, paranoid and anxious when in truth all I need to do is relax. So I lead myself to a dead end, a black hole, a brick wall. I end up in a place that is impossible to get out of.

Again, I am unable to write. Well, I am able to write, but my brain thinks other wise. I don't know why I can't just open up my novel and continue to create it. It's such a well written piece of prose and it kills me that I am having trouble with its continuation. It's probably all this stress getting to me: roommates, my sister, classes, men and keeping myself sane and together when all I want to do is fall apart. I guess everyone feels this way from time to time. I just want to know why I'm still feeling this everyday.

"Tangerine trees and marmalade skies."

With no secrets. No obsession.
This time I'm speeding with no direction.
Without a reason. What is this fire?
Burning slowly. My one and only.
Desire.
- Desire, Ryan Adams


Here's a little check-up on how 2008 has been treating me:
Movie: Across the Universe
Book: The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
Favorite class: Scriptwriting
Current job: Storybook Child Care
Monroe Doctrine written article: 'MCC Cliques' - published Feb/March
Song: Something - The Beatles and Coffee Shop - Landon Pigg
Drink: Sparks
Television show: Rock of Love and Gilmore Girls reruns
Restaurant: Panera Bread and Red Robin
Clothes: skinny jeans
Musician: Landon Pigg and Imogen Heap
Food: Lean Cuisines and salad
Author: Jodi Picoult

That's how 2008 has been treating me so far. It's been a rough few months, but I tried to pull some good out of it. I am still unable to move from page 135 of A Separation of Heart. I'm still in the process of clearing my mind so I can write well again. It's a frustrating task! However, it will be done.


By the way, Stacey and I finalized our apartment search. We move in on May 18th/19th.

just a memory now.

Let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we?

Less then 1 year old:
- Was living in Hannibal, NY
- Cancer stricken
- Dark hair to no hair
- Practically lived in a hospital
- Had both parents around

First Grade:
- Was the Christmas Tree in a play
- Was living in Carthage, NY
- Had a crush on Caleb Arquit
- Best friends were Heather Fargo and Katie Schrader
- Had long, black hair and never brushed it

Third Grade:
- Moved to Syracuse, NY
- Cut my hair to below my ears and had big glasses
- Wore obnoxious dresses
- Too shy for friends
- Had a crush on Corey Giradono

Middle School:
- Made the musical all three years
- Got an outstanding singer award
- Began dating
- Dated Travis Matteson
- Best friends with Kylee Halliwell and Dana Flewelling
- Braces, glasses and didn't use gel or mousse in my hair

Junior Year:
- Parents got divorced
- Reputation for being a 'band geek' and 'the gym teachers daughter'
- Stopped caring about musicals and concentrated on ballet
- Became used to therapy and counseling
- Got cheated on by ex-boyfriend
- Put on meds
- Barely went to school
- Started drinking

First year in college:
- Entered MCC
- Became a partier
- Enjoyed being free
- Mother started dating
- Joined the college newspaper
- Became careless
- Gained 30 pounds
- Made amazing friends
- Relapsed
- Got a 2.7 gpa
- Completed my first written novel

Second year (so far):
- Got in a car accident
- Became the Opinion Editor for the college newspaper
- Calmed down - a little
- Got blamed for something I didn't do by other roommates
- Got confused about my career goal
- CGD&ST camper passed away
- Began writing another novel
- 3.1 gpa first semester
- Relapsed
- Started dancing again
- Worried about younger sister


Just a general overview.

let your dreams grow on your fingertips

I like pretending I'm in a film - a romantic comedy, a drama without any. The words wash over me like a cool breeze during a New York City summer. The movements become so realistic, the actor's skin brushing onto my own like leaves onto the emerald grass below. It becomes so perfect. It becomes so right.

The film becomes my life and it begins to drift away. It turns into a dark comedy, a romance without any. The words become my own and fall off of my tongue like peas rolling out of a pod. It doesn't seem to fit. The grass turns into sawdust and blends in with the wind, carrying it to a different city.

For this city was never a place for a romantic film. I just don't seem to fit the part of the lover.


I'm beginning to think that my life is going backwards - maybe in a good way. I miss the days when he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not were wished upon the petals of a rose or just standing near that someone makes you nervous like a child. I feel like that feeling may be making it's way back. The remaining question is: is it okay for me to fall backwards again when moving ahead has always been my goal?

I'm just a blackbird.

I feel trapped. Okay, it's cliche - but it's how I feel. I found out that I will be staying at MCC for probably another year when I thought I would be out this fall with my Associates Degree. I feel like I will never truly know what I want for my future and when I do have it all figured out, something will be missing or out of place. I love this college, there's no doubt about that, but I do not want to be here for more then three years and I worry I will mess something up along the way to make me fall behind.

The newspaper wants me to be editor-in-chief next semester and I somewhat agreed to it today after hearing about my future stay at MCC. I'm still re-thinking my choice - editor-in-chief is a lot of work and I already have my hands full when it comes to the Opinion section. Ideally I want to become lifestyles editor, but editor-in-chief would look much more impressive on a resume. This too is adding more stress to the growing pile.

Men suck. Yes, I said it and I never think twice about that statement. They're all so hypocritical and that is the reason for the female species being afraid to trust them. They say one thing and then turn their back on it. I wish I could find someone - or someone to find me. It isn't that I need to find a man, it's that I want to feel what it is like to be wanted and to be cared about. I forgot what it feels like to be missed and to be treasured. I am starting to believe I may never find the ideal man. In truth, I think there is no such thing.


She walked through the desert - through the sand that barried her toes in dead heat. She crumbled beneath the sun, melting with it's violent and wretched rays. They were pointing at her and at a body that seemed to be pealing along with the rattlesnakes - her skin flaking into the core of the fire beneath her feet.

She fell onto her knees, the sand swimming into her eyes just to find a single drop of water. It rolled down her cheek, digging a crevice into the sand that vanished in an instant. She wanted to dig that hole up and climb into it's depths to curl within it like a blanket never used. She wanted to cover herself with the warm fleece until the night cooled. She would then climb out and sit upon the sand, listening to the silent sound of peace.

The world she knew had forgotten that sound and even at that moment she could barely find a noise that resembled it.

there will be an answer, let it be.

"Living is easy with eyes closed,
misunderstanding all you see.
It's getting hard to be someone
but it all works out.
It doesn't matter much to me."
- Across The Universe, Strawberry Fields


I've always tried to live my life in the simplest form it can possibly be lived to. I tell myself to always be kind and to love those who are different. I've grown up understanding people's faults and allowing their faults to grow upon my own skin. I've learned that war is wrong and stupid and selfish. I've taught myself that love can't be created but has to be found.

Across The Universe is a movie about how people live their lives to the simplest way they can but get stuck in the middle of something so wrong that they wonder how they got there in the first place. Everyone deals with that feeling. Some throw it to the side and try to forget it while others hold onto it until the day they die. This movie has every aspect of humanity within it: war, love, rebellion, friendship, racism, trust and symbolism of what life is supposed to look like through the eyes of someone so unsure about their own. Every character goes through a transition, whether or not that transition works out for the best. Just like in life, everyone goes through different stages. Whether it consists of drugs and sex or work and family - every stage changes the person for the better.

This movie proves that point correctly.

My life isn't all just sunshine and glitter - it's fucking hard. Who's life isn't that way? I've had to deal with my own personal war against myself for years as well as trust issues, family issues, mental issues and the theory of life versus death. Everyday I continue to fight within myself about whether or not it's worth the battle. It always is. If I didn't think twice about a single thought or action then something could go terribly wrong and regret would follow. Of course I want love, who doesn't? But I can't just sit around and wait for it to knock me off of my feet. Just like in Across the Universe, Jude and Lucy don't always agree but come together because of their disagreeing past.

No one's perfect. I just need to find someone who can prove to me that they are at least trying.

one drop to spare.

Three good movies worth seeing:
- Sydney White
- Crash
- Shawshank Redemption

Sure, they are all totally different films - but they all circle around individuality and how it's hard to be yourself during any circumstance.


The snow hit the pavement like pieces of broken glass - nails trying to break through the ground to reveal the inside warmth. There was always warmth hidden inside such a cold exterior - as if ice never melted until someone walked by with a flickering orange flame. Each flicker of the flame represented existance and the fire represented the cruelty behind it.

My bare feet fell upon the broken glass, the snow feeling as clever as fire. My skin felt raw, numb. My body became as hollow as an empty bottle being thrown to the side with one drop left to spare. No one ever finished that one drop for it never tasted as refreshing as the ones that came before it. That last drop never had the time of day, never breathed in that dose of fresh air for it got used to the hard, cold ground as it's substance.

It wished too for warmth in an environment so frozen with fright.

My feet scraped the ground, pebbles calling my skin their home. The snow fell onto my eyelids - one, two, three flakes taking a moment to rest. I turned my palms upright, trying to grasp onto the realism that the snow was creating - or trying to at least. I felt the realism. I felt the warmth behind the cold. I felt the fire within the ice. I wore the snow like a silver coat.

But that coat couldn't protect me from being the last drop in the bottle. Only a flickering flame could dry me up.

my own personal postsecret.com

CHECK OUT WWW.MONROEDOCTRINE.ORG!
I am the opinion editor for the MCC newspaper and now with this website up and running, whoever reads this blog can check out some of my articles. I also write for the lifestyles section. Enjoy!

Since recently discovering a website and book called PostSecret, in addition to writing an article for the paper about the interesting book, I will share some of my insecurities as well:

These are just some, but hey - why not!

- I wish I had been born with straight, blonde hair
- I love to write but am afraid that I will never be good enough
- I'm afraid my friends pretend to like me but really don't
- I think I'm fat and I absolutely hate it
- I wish I could get a job with an associates degree
- I am still working on overcoming my past/present 'habit'
- I miss singing and being in musicals
- I try so hard to make my sister be proud of me, but I don't think I work hard enough
- I am afraid of marriage because of all of the divorces
- I think my family is secretly dissapointed in me for not making it into a 4-year college
- I think my high school friends pretended for four years to like me - when they really never did
- I hate drinking beer but I drink it anyway
- I was surrounded by compulsive liars in my past and I fear that no one believes me either
- I wish my dad was different
- I could sleep all day if I had absolutely nothing to do
- I'm afraid I wont get anywhere with my life
- I'm afraid I will never get my book(s) published
- I think my roommates think I don't go to classes when I do
- I hated high school and if that's hell than I better go to heaven
- I want my mom to be happy
- I think I'm the weird one out of my group of friends
- I don't know what I'm doing after I graduate MCC

Those were just a few. Believe me, I have many more!

I cannot give up.

Here is a quote from Jodi Picoult's new podcast entitled - "If at first you don't succeed..."
“One of the saddest truths in publishing is that good books aren’t always the ones that sell. You can do everything right and still not get a contract. More often, the writers who succeed are the ones who refuse to buckle under the failures that are heaped upon them; who reject the notion that they aren’t as mediocre as industry professionals say they are.”

Of course I'm still writing and after listening to Jodi's newest podcasts, I only want to write even more. It took her years and years to get where she wanted and if that happens to me - so be it. But I am talented and I know that is one of the hardest things for people to say. I never give myself credit, but who else do you know what has written a 260 page novel before they turned eighteen and is currently in the middle of a second one? My friends may think I'm crazy, but I just think I'm determined to become an appreciated writer.

Here's a short piece from A Separation of Heart:
“I grew up struggling and I do not want other children to do the same,” Phil had said, pouring Lacey another margarita as she hazily nodded her head in thanks. “I’m no Angelina, but I do try my best.”
“And that’s all you can do, right? Try your best?” Delia had asked, pushing away her empty martini glass, the scent of apple still dangling on the edge.
“That’s what they say,” he stated, his eyes tired but not deserted from thought. “Sometimes though, trying your best wont save the fading stars. The stars you can barely see are the ones that really do shine the brightest.”
Delia had promised herself that she would take that line and fit it into her book.


Jodi Picoult's newest novel comes out on March 3rd!
I already recomend it.

"Black and stopped as a dead baby."

"To the person in the bell jar, black and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream." - The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath.

It's funny how things change over time. When I was younger, in Elementary and Middle School, I would try my best not to finish a novel because I wanted the sensation to last - I would never want the story to end. So I would read as much as I could and then read it over, in hopes that I wouldn't finish the book and end the journey. Now, I want to read as much as I can to gain as much from the novel as possible. I'm still a slow reader, and always will be, but I enjoy it to the fullest. I don't stretch out the time reading it just so the story will never end, for the story wont end once it's over. That's what's so great about writing, whether the book is still being read or hasn't been for years, a good story will never die. For example, The Bell Jar. That story tells messages that will never be forgotten. Like every novel written by Jodi Picoult - nothing will fly with the wind.

CHANGE OF HEART BY JODI PICOULT will be out in stores MARCH 4TH.

Sylvia Plath, how i adore you so.

I have been either too busy or too sick to do anything for myself lately. So lately, I have been readng a chapter from The Bell Jar every night. I just came across this section and it made me think about something:

"I had always looked down on my mother's college, as it was coed, and filled with people who couldn't get scholarships to the big eastern colleges.
Now I saw that the stupidest person at my mother's college knew more than I did. I saw they wouldn't even let me in through the door, let alone give me a scholarship like the one I had at my own college." - The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath - page 125

That section of the novel made me think about community colleges versus universities and state schools. Everyone constantly looks down at community colleges only because most of the people who want to go there are enrolled. However, even back in the 1930's, people still looked down at schools that weren't as known for academics but for the availability of the student body. In the section above, it proves that those at community colleges work their asses off to the point that some people from other colleges couldn't even keep up with the presented work. Every college has the same presented idea: work hard, do your best and enjoy the time spent. That's it; hands down.

a natural sickness

So of course I continue to get sick. I've had an ongoing cold/sinus infection since September (right after the surgery to help my sinuses). So, I try my best to survive - by downing tylenol and sudafed or whatever you call it. I'm beginning to think the surgery made everything worse. I will continue to believe that statment until proved otherwise.

This past week has made me believe that there are no such thing as nice men. Guys have absolutely no care in the world except for where they put their dick. Excuse my french. While girls begin to have emotional connections, guys only want sex and that just makes them all jerks. Come on, we've known this for the longest time. A friend of the family once told me that all guys are jerks: there are good jerks and bad jerks. I agree 100% with that statement and will quote it until the day I perish. But I am sick of being attracted to bad jerks. I always go for the kind of guy who will put me down or step all over me. When will I realize my problem and change? It's hard to change a way of attraction when its been there all of your life.

So I'm still having major writers block. I'm on around page 120 of A Separation of Heart and it's so far an above average piece of prose. However, I want something phenomonal - and I know that I can do that. I need to stop and think about where this book is going and how it is going to end. Usually the characters take the story in their own direction. I guess they have been napping and forgot where they were to begin with.

Well, I love my friends and I love my mom. I love my classes and I love eating. I hate working out and I hate winter weather. I hate not knowing where I'm going after MCC and I hate always being tired. I guess life is just full of 'I loves' and 'I hates."

days of dashboard

I've gone back to the days of Dashboard
It's sad I could fall so fast
It's the sadness that everyone tries to ignore
And that sadness really never goes away
You can feel it in your veins
Nesting its stay until the day you perish
And who knows when that day may come
Because all of our lives are tragedies
They lead and end in death

his name was john.

It's funny how the end of an era can come a few years after a popular television show has already ended the series. Sex and the City became my new favorite television show during my freshman near at college. After my friends and I began having S.A.T.C. nights, I automatically became addicted. I became addicted not because of the interesting sexual inuendos, but the relationship that four very different females seemed to have with one another. They were able to share their deepest and most off limits secrets with one another about guys, sex and their daily lives. Also, each of the girls had something about them which made them relatable to the single female.

Tonight I finally watched the last episode of the series and began to cry. Everything seemed to fit into place perfectly and the missing puzzle pieces were found. It made me feel like it wasn't only the end of an era, but the beginning of my own version of Sex and the City. I still haven't watched every episode recorded - but believe me, that will be done.

Sex and the City is not only about strange relationships and sexual mishaps, it's about life and how society portrays women differently from men. Society makes it seem like men are the only ones who talk about sex and relationships when really women talk about it just as much or more. We get into the topics that men would fear discuss because we have that comfort among our friends. This show was about the relationship among four different individuals and how they made it through suffering, broken hearts and frustrating times together - never apart.

one broken family equals a dozen more to come.

What happened to the days when you looked forward to coming home from college to spend time with the family that loves you? The family that smiles as you walk in the door, surprising you with hugs and compliments about how great you look or how happy they are to have you home.

That image is only a myth, an imaginary truth that so many continue to believe is real. I used to always think that my family was perfect but after the divorce - everything seemed to scatter and rip at the seams. It's been three years since my family separated - leaving me to pretend my world was just as great as it had been before it fell apart. It will never be the way it was before my junior year. Now I have a father who plays the guilt trip on his daughters every time he wants to spend time with us. I have a sister who continuously bashs my lifestyle, my goals and the way I am because she feels that it is okay to throw her anger at the one person who falls apart everytime she does so. And I have a mother, the one person who has kept me alive through out the last years. If it wasn't for her sense of understanding, I would probably be dead or in a pych ward. No one knows what I've gone through and what I still am struggling to overcome. Lately, I feel as if my family is the one thing I fear when really it's the one thing want back. Maybe not in the same sense as I had it three years ago - but something a little happier, a little bit calmer and definately relaxed.

So when I come home for vacations, I may hear the occasional you look great from one person: my mother. My father will discuss his own busy life as I sit back and listen and my sister will barely talk to me unless she has a friend alongside her. I do have my friends though, most who are away for vacation. But I do know that when I go back to school for the spring semester, I may miss being home, but I'll have my friends shoulders to cry on.