My Mumbling Thoughts

The weekends are pretty much dead on campus. A lot people tend to go back for a couple of days, get a nice Sunday dinner in their bellies and reaquaint themselves with their bedrooms.

Lucky bastards.

I've been forcing myself to stay at university for the past couple of weekends instead of darting off into central London for three days. While it is always nice staying with Ash and forgetting that I am a college student, I needed to be properly bored in my room, have some alone time and maybe even try to buckle down and get some decent writing accomplished.

I learned that it's a lot harder than one might think.

My weekend routine generally starts around half ten when I wake up, turn on Bridget, go in the kitchen to make some toast and tea, and then come back in my room and rate all of my new albums in iTunes. Sometime around noon I'll decide to take a shower, get ready and then see who's out in the kitchen so I can have somebody to talk to. If nobody's out there, then I think about what chores I have to do all the time and never go away (i.e. washing dishes, tidying my room, laundry, grocery shopping) and hope that somebody comes out of their room so that we can sit down and have a conversation about anything.

The afternoons are generally a lot nicer since everybody is finally awake and we all hang out in the kitchen together. This past weekend was particularly nice since we all went into Putney to do some costume shopping for a party that is going on later this evening (I'm going as Tinkerbell; I know, adorable) and Sunday was a nice chill out day, and when everybody came back to university from their weekend away. Fiona was so cute when she said that our little family was back together; Santos came back home, so did Alex, Carlene and Helen. It does feel better once all of us are back under the same roof.

It's strange how much of an extended family we have here at university though. We've all bonded so closely, so quickly. There have already been some minor quarrels amongst us all, but things eventually get sorted and we all move on. We have so many other adopted members from different floors in our house or different houses all together. Beth and Lauren don't even live with us but they're over at our place all the time. Santos and Trish live on the second floor, and Alex lives on the ground floor but they wander up in our kitchen all the time just to see how things are going. It's the weirdest living situation I've ever been in but strangely comforting.

Last night as we waited for everyone to make it through the congested motorways, we all sat in the kitchen, listened to music, made tons of food mostly containing nutella, the world's greatest invention ever, straightened each other's hair, flipped through magazines, tried on our Halloween costumes, danced, drank tea, smoked fags and talked, talked, talked, talked non-stop. It was a proper, impromptu jammy party. If every weekend was like that, maybe I wouldn't hate the weekends so much.

Unfortunately we can't always sit around in our jammies and talk about which celebrity we think is fit or why so-and-so wore that dress to a particular award ceremony. Sometimes we have to sleep, or in my case, do some writing which still has yet to occur. It'll come soon though. I can feel it out over in the horizon. Until then I'll just keep listening to my music and braiding my flatmate's hair.

Posted by Sam at 11:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

It's the same thing every night. The girls and I all decide who's going out and then set a time when we plan on going out.

Lauren: "We should really try and go out around nine o'clock. We're always leaving at half nine or ten and can only stay at the bar for an hour before it closes. Then we come back here and we're wide awake because we've only been out for an hour."

Group: "True. Shall we shoot for half eight then?"

We all agree for half eight and continue to eat our dinner, read the magazines that are sprawled out all over our kitchen and talk about what we're going to wear if it's a themed night.

Since we're all girls, half nine will roll around and only half of us will be ready to go out. We keep our doors latched so that they don't automatically shut and lock making it easier for all of us to wander in and out of each other's room, borrowing make-up, changing shirts, using curling irons, asking opinions on what shoes go better with what outfit and borrowing accessories.

It is in some ways, my favorite part of the night before we even step foot outside.

While I've been picking up on the lingo, I've also been adopting some of the fashion trends. I now own one pair of black leggings with the feet cut out and have grown very fond of the three pair of flat shoes that I can wear with almost everything. Leah wasn't lying either when she said that everybody had big, trendy belts. They're everywhere. I've yet to find a trendy belt that is small enough for me though. All of the ones I've seen so far are way too big for my teeny waist. I look off balance somehow. I've got a London Dress that I bought from my new favorite store, Jane Norman and plan on to start tying scarves in my hair and deciding on which hoop earrings are trendy or chavy. It's awesome, really.

After everybody is satisfied with how they look, we all squeeze into the elevator and make the small walk down to our local student bar, the Belfry. Anybody who's anybody will be found at the Belfry. We show the security guards our student I.D and head straight for the bar without looking around for one second to see if we know anybody. We all look cute, trendy and very important considering we arrived extra fashionably late. Once we've got our drink(s) in hand, we form a small semi-circle, light our fags and then look around to see if we notice somebody. That is if they don't come up to us first.

Lauren and I usually head over to the jukebox first to pick some music and then meet up with the rest of the group when they've claimed a table. I try to pick different songs, but it's so hard not to choose Razorlights' In The Morning, The Kooks She Moves In Her Own Way, or Jamie T's Sheila. Those are already the songs I associate with the bar whenever I hear them and they're fabulous to dance to.

By this time Carlene has already got a pool table to get a game going, some people are on their second or third drink and I'm feeling happy just to be away from my room. The room that has filled up substantially ever since I first arrived. It's a little cozier now that I have everything that I really need from home and a couple of posters on my wall from a poster sale we had a few days ago. It's not looking as bare or feeling as empty, but I'm still getting used to being in there completely alone. I'm still getting used to it being my space, being my area where I'm meant to write. For so long it was always my desk at work or my room at home. Now I have a new space and it's still a little weird for me to think of it as mine.

The guys play Carlene at pool while Lauren scopes the place for all of the guys she fancies. She also scopes the place for their girlfriends to see if they've tagged along with the guys she would like to be on the arm of. Fiona and Zoe dance in the same place and make small conversations with people that they know from their classes. Santos is always mingling with everybody in the bar because he knows everybody. Helen is usually sitting with Beth or Alex talking and I'm standing, smoking, drinking, waiting for the songs I picked to play on the jukebox.

Normally if the people from ground floor Bede are in the bar we'll hang out with them as well. There's always some kind of drama happening between our two houses though. Some of them don't like us, some of them do, some of them could care less either way. We all gel though and because we're always staying at each other's houses, we've combined the names of Bede and Lee into one house known as Bleede.

The girls are catty and very dramatic over every little thing. Bede girls don't like the Lee girls because most of us have hooked up with Bede boys and they're very protective over their boys. Lee girls don't like Bede girls because we believe that they're all two-faced instigators who feed off of drama. They smile at us when we first see them in the bar but then occasionally we'll catch them glaring over at us as the night goes on. Rumors are easily started, words are twisted and before you know it there's a big To Do over absolutely nothing. It's really fun to watch unfold.

If I haven't had too many drinks, I usually stay on my best behavior. I'm perfectly happy and content to stand on the sidelines and sway to the music in my own little world. What drama? Why does there need to be drama? Can't we all just get along? I just want to dance.

So I do. The songs that Lauren and I picked from the jukebox will finally start playing and by this time I'm pissed just enough to dance around the pool tables while I'm surrounded by everybody else who is caught up in whatever new drama is going on for the night.

And that is that.

Posted by Sam at 12:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

It'll happen when you're out by yourself. You'll be walking around with your iPod blasting music into your ears, sitting on the tube while watching the blurry scenery or while you're sitting outside alone smoking a fag in your jammies late at night. You'll pause, look around and it'll feel like somebody has taken their fingertips and brushed them lightly up against your back.

You live in London.

You would think that the words would start to lose their luster after some time and that it would become the norm, but they still make your insides tingle and you smile a little smile to yourself.

It's fast, quiet little moments like that that still catch me off guard.

I haven't had that many days when I've been completely alone. It didn't take me long to learn that there's always something to do on any day of the week. The rest of the students seem to be like me in that they don't like being alone for long periods of time, whether because of sheer boredom or in my case, the fear of too many thoughts filling my brain up too fast and eventually causing my head to explode.

I've found a group of people who allow me to hang out with them and find me amusing when I'm both drunk and sober. We all have bonded rather quickly (it's amazing what kind of ice breaker alcohol can be) and have molded into one of the more dysfunctional families on campus. I like it and it's comforting to know that I have people I live with who I can talk to if ever I need a distraction from every day life.

But the city. It is the city that knows me inside and out. I've wrapped my arms and legs around all of London and I'm clinging on so tightly that I'm afraid I might lose my breath, begin to slip and slide all the way to the bottom. I'm beginning to learn my way around and feel a lot more comfortable going out and seeing what else is out there that I have yet to discover. There's always somebody new to see, new to talk to, new to learn about. I never get tired of walking and craning my head around to stare at every minute detail. At the same time though, I can just as easily walk straight forward and keep my eyes in front of me and not to talk to one soul, which is apparently the "London Way", and I do like to fit in with the locals.

I'm picking up the lingo, but not the accent. I'm sure everybody finds it amusing to hear me say some things in my funky (currently croaky because of my annoying cold) southern American accent. I regularly tell bus drivers "cheers" when they print off my ticket as I board the bus and shout "oy!" if somebody annoys me or I'm trying to get someone's attention. I know what a "chav" is and learned that most of them live in "council estates". You don't ever want to be around a "happy slapper", boys go for a "slash" when drinking too much and that the "gaff" I live in is quite posh.

In return, I've been sharing my own Americanisms with the locals around here. The girls have really nice taste in "pocketbooks", when we go out drinking they must "chug it like a frat boy" and that the bathrooms (also known as "bogs", "toilets" and "loos") are usually "hot as a bear". And of course I've been trying to get them all to start saying "y'all" because it is the best word in the entire world.

I've also learned though that while I am surrounded by millions of people there are times when I need to be alone even if I don't want to. It's way too easy to pick up the phone and call somebody just because. There's no reason to phone them other than to say, "hey, I'm bored. You want to come around and hang out?" There are times when I'll hear voices in the kitchen and must force myself to stay in my room and not engage in any kind of human contact whatsoever. Everybody has to sleep sometime. So when I find myself still awake at two o'clock in the morning listening to my music, instead of ringing someone up to keep myself going and to keep the moment going, I know that I need to turn off all the lights and let the city tuck me in, kiss me on the forehead and wish me sweet dreams. I'll still be here tomorrow, but at the moment all that is required of me is to shut my eyes and fall asleep on London's shoulder.

Posted by Sam at 11:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

You see it all the time when you're watching a movie. Whether it's a good movie or not is beside the point, but you're watching anyway and the main character just pisses you off. Everything they do is the complete opposite of what they should be doing. Or what they should be doing according to you and probably the majority of society. And you're screaming at the television screen, pulling at your hair and shouting, "why? What the fuck are you doing? Are you out of your goddamned mind!?" Sure, the main character can't hear you through the screen, but you feel loads better now that you've gotten the screaming out of your system.

I would be the main character that you'd be screaming at. I would be the one that you're frustrated with and want to have a good talking to because, dammit, can't I see how everything is so simple and all of these small worries that I have rushing through my mind at impressive speed is nothing but common sense? Life is only complicated if you make it that way.

And I suppose I have, in a way.

The money problems aren't one of my biggest worries, but it's steadily climbing its way up my list. Before I left home, the plan was that I would already have a part time job by now. I'd have a bank account and be working on the UK economy. I would not be using my savings back in America, which is what I've been doing ever since I landed because, well, sometimes shit happens and life doesn't go according to plan.

Family life isn't too pleasant these days either. Mel and I get along just like usual, but Momma has decided to fall off the deep end and disown me for some of the dumbest reasons I've ever heard of. She wasn't too pleased that I started talking to Ash again, nor was she happy about me not having a job and spending my US savings, but aside from those two things it seems like all she has been doing is making up stupid things to be pissed off at me and at the moment I really could care less to be dealing with all of her drama. I'm an ocean away now. I can't just be sent to my room without dinner or dessert and then be punished for a week. Things don't work like that anymore and I think she's having a lot more problems with losing control over me than she's willing to admit.

I've been ill for the past week or so, beating off the flu and trying to get healthy. It doesn't help that I've also been going out drinking for the past week or so because I've been trying to distract myself from all of the family problems that I don't feel like dealing with at the moment. I told myself that the alcohol would kill off all of the germs and bacteria that's crawling inside of me, but that doesn't appear to be working. Instead I've just gotten worse and now I've almost lost my voice. Tonight I'm staying in while the girls go to the bar for a talent show that's being put on and I'm drinking hot tea and catching up on homework that I've been neglecting. After I catch up on emails and blogs though because, fucking hell it's been forever since I've had some proper quiet, alone time.

There has been quite a lot of drama spreading all over campus as well. Oh, you know all of the stories. One girl hooked up with this one guy, blah, blah, blah...then there are the "more serious" ones where people were actually interested in each other, words were said, feelings got hurt and now each persons are stood at opposite ends of a room surrounded by friends who are constantly jabbering in their ears filling their heads up with even more bullshit.

I don't know why I'm so interested in it all, but I am. Perhaps it's because I've been around nothing but adults who live in upper-middle class neighborhoods for the past two and half years. I've forgotten how young people act these days, young English people as well. It's all so fascinating and every night there's a new story that needs to be told in the morning.

But now, right now, I'm taking a time out, I'm letting the world slow down, I'm giving myself a break. I've been on constant go for the past two weeks without a rest that my body is physically shutting down on me and sending a very clear message that I need to go easy on myself for a while if only so I can gain some more energy to head back out there and gather more information. That's what I feel like, the little American spy who stores all of the top secret information up in my brain and jots all of the notes down so that I can report back all of the dirty little secrets later on my blog. And there are quite a bit. Deciding what's actually interesting and what only interests me is the hard part.

I need for things to slow down somewhat though, if only for my own mental and physical health. I haven't got any time to write anything, to think about anything or try and keep my small room tidy. It's hard to find time to do my laundry and whenever I think that I have a second somebody is knocking on my door asking if I want to go to Such-And-Such place in Putney or Hammersmith, and I'm going to always say yes because I don't want to miss out on the social life in college and because it's fucking London. I want to see everything. I want to experience everything. I want to know everything. I want to live it all.

And so if it seems like I've fallen off the Internet Earth, disappeared from the Blogosphere, have no fear. I'm still out there, sorting it out, working through it and keeping a very good mini journal to refresh my memory when I'm ready to post it all on My Mumbling Thoughts.

Posted by Sam at 09:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I always thought that once I got myself on a schedule, as soon as my classes started up, things would be slightly less hectic and perhaps I'd fall into a groove. A nice and easy groove like I had back home: wake up, go to class, come back to my room, do a little work, tidy up a bit, catch up on my emails/blogs and go to sleep at a decent hour. I wasn't going to let things get out of hand, I wouldn't be a party student, I wouldn't slag off my work.

But already I can see the beginning of me slipping behind. I can feel myself becoming slightly lost. I've lost motivation already and I'm becoming worn down. I'm not as energetic as I once was even before I left home.

Things have become slightly more complicated. Life at home is creeping it's way over the Atlantic and I'm worrying about my family members, my friends and wondering if I'm neglecting them too much. I don't reply to emails as quickly as I once did and I'm not sure what to say whenever they call. The guilt has wormed it's way inside of me and I'm frozen, too scared to do anything other than to clam up tightly and curl up under my covers. It's easier to avoid people when you don't have to see them all the time. It's easier not to think about them when they're not ever present in your day-to-day life. It's easier to just completely forget about it all together and watch the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy or Sex and the City rather than sit alone with your thoughts and swim through it all.

Practically every single weekend since I've been here I've found myself in central London staying with Ash. I don't like staying on campus mostly because it's just so boring. The girls like going out to the bars and clubs and occasionally I'll tag along with them just so I can have a drink or five and slip out into my lucid, alcoholic daydreams. Sometimes I'll find myself sitting on my bed in my room and all I want to do is surround myself with other people just so I'm not all alone anymore. I hate being alone. I hate it a lot more than I had previously assumed while I was still in the comfort of my own queen sized bed back in Virginia.

Earlier today when I was downstairs with Carlene, smoking a cigarette, we were talking about how she had dropped her cell phone down a drain and how surprised she was that it still worked when we both heard something (or someone, rather) fall face first onto the sidewalk and smack their mouth onto the concrete. Carlene immediately put her fag out and quickly started walking towards the woman whose mouth was now bleeding profusely. I, on the other hand just stood there and watched as other people began gathering around her to help and make sure she was okay. I didn't know what was wrong with me or why I decided not to pick up my feet and rush over to her like all of the other people. If I'm honest, I was slightly pissed off that I had to put out one of my cigarettes that I hadn't even smoked halfway just to check on somebody that wasn't paying attention and missed a step. I had only brought one outside and I didn't feel like going all the way upstairs to get another one.

And I thought, "what the fuck, Sam? What The Fuck? You can't even go and check to make sure that the woman is alright? Are you too good to even go over there and offer to call somebody or help her pick up the things that had scattered all over the ground? Are you that big of a selfish cunt?"

I was. I am. It hit me that I'm a lot more sad and stuck in my own pathetic problems, that I've slowly changed into this pessimistic, cynical asshole without even knowing it. I've been too busy distracting myself with so many different things and have forced myself into denial, believing that everything is okay, that I'm not homesick, that I'm alright, that I can do this, that I'm strong, that I'm capable, that everything is alright. Clearly, it's not. Admitting to myself that all of this is hard isn't easy. Telling people that this is difficult, that all of the changes coming at me are stretching me to an unnatural limit, is something that I don't want to do. Showing any signs of weakness and vulnerability is in some ways, a priviledge to witness if I let you.

I did check on the woman and it was very clear that she had plenty of people around to help her. So I left, came back upstairs, told the girls that I wasn't going to the bar and washed my two giant piles of laundry. I decided that it's good to have fun going out and begin to build my life here in London, but I need a balance. I need some alone time, I need to think about my home a little more, I need to work on my classwork a lot more and I need to allow myself some time to feel sad and cry about the fact that even though I wanted all of this, that it's going to take a lot of time to make all of these new changes feel like home.

And most importantly, I need to remember that even when I'm alone in my room, that there are a lot of people out there who love and care about me, even if they don't show it all the time. I'm never alone and it's always nice to show that you care back and to never forget all of the support and help that I received to get my ass over here in the first place.

Posted by Sam at 10:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Now when I look back on it, all of the signs were there. I can't believe I was so stupid to have missed them. The way they would get quiet as soon as I would walk into the kitchen. Their eyes would dart over to me quickly and everyone would remain quiet until I left. When Carlene stepped outside in the hallway to talk to me and sent Cat in my room to talk to Ash. When Ash told me that he had agreed to doing something on Saturday and was vague about all of the details. The way they sent Cat and me over to the bar an hour early because, hell, I'm already dressed up with no place to go and Cat needs a beer to make her feel better. The way that Carlene told me to be dressed and ready to go at 8pm sharp and no later, which is strange, because the girls are never ready until at least half nine. When Zoe told me that she was stressed out because something was wrong with Carlene's leg and she was lying on the kitchen floor in absolute agony.

I should have known that something was up. I should have felt like something was off. Maybe it was because I was a little tipsy or because I just can't tell who's lying with all of the different accents, but it wasn't until I walked up to the kitchen door, saw that the lights were turned off and saw a bit of light reflected off of little beady eyes that it finally clicked in my brain, I finally realized what was going on.

The sneaky little bitches had thrown me a surprise birthday party.

All of the girls were there, Ash, Chris and Aloke were there, people that I didn't know were there but who I vaguely remember having a drunken conversation with. I got a card and shirt with a picture of the girls and me from the first we all went out together in Hammersmith. I took a shot of...something...two seconds after I walked into the door, got a glass of wine to hold and nurse for most of the evening, mingled for a bit, blew out birthday candles, ate really good cake, drank some more, quickly made a steak dinner with potatoes and had a semi-debate about Americans, racism and why all Americans don't believe that we're superior to the rest of the world. We just have a lot of confidence. We walked down to the other college (I was in a skirt and seriously uncomfortable boots), I managed to get inside despite not having my stupid student ID on me. We danced, we drank, we smoked, we got shot with water guns and then Trish and I decided to walk back to the flat, drink the rest of my wine, eat the rest of my birthday cake, raid the kitchen fridge and have in depth, long, drunken American conversations, because goddammit, we hadn't had one of those conversations the entire time we were in England, we were homesick, and we needed to have one of those conversations.

It was an awesome 21st birthday. Americans everywhere should be proud that I celebrated in true American fashion by keeping with the tradition and getting absolutely wasted.

Posted by Sam at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

Write about something you observed or experienced as a child...

As little girls we would always play dress up and pretend to be other people. Life was always far more exciting in the small town of Minot, North Dakota when you were a princess or famous singer. And although we had the clothes and would style our hair, the most fun for my sister and I would be slathering on all of our mother's make-up on our faces and believing that it made us look like grown-ups. Nothing showed just how old we were were than piling on loads of eyeshadow and darkening our cheeks with blush and/or lipstick.

My sister, Mel, who is two years younger than me but a foot taller, would close the lid of the toilet and sit with her legs crossed as I grabbed the small bathroom stool and climbed on top. We had no concept of the "rules" that one should follow when applying make-up, only our instincts and what we thought to be "glamorous."

I would push Mel's bangs back that covered her forehead with my left hand and begin with what has always been the most fun for me: the eyelids. I'd pull out the only eyeshadow that contained any amount of glitter (my mom wasn't the girliest of women) and would generously apply it from the very edge of Mel's eyelashes all the way up to her eyebrows.

"Yes, that's perfect," I would say to her as I stood back and looked over my work of art as if she were a living easel, and then again I would push her bangs back and attack the other eye.

Time would go by, one hour would turn into two and we would both still be in the same place with Mel's face caked in who knows what. Obviously, we thought it all to be absolutely necessary and that even with lip gloss in her eyebrows or lipstick on her cheeks that she was the spitting image of all those famous models that were splashed across the television and magazines.

After quite a bit of time would go by, our mom would wonder what we were doing, why we were so quiet and what kind of trouble we must be getting in to. We would hear her calling for us as she was coming up the stairs and quickly tried to hide all evidence that we were playing in her things, her expensive make-up that she had told us to leave alone time and time again. It was all in vein though as she would fling open the bathroom door and caught us both red handed, frozen like two baby deer in the bright headlights with looks on our faces that tried to convey both innocence and like nothing was wrong at all. We weren't doing anything that we weren't supposed to. We always hung out in the bathroom for no apparent reason and would come out walking with clown faces. It was completely normal.

Of course there wasn't any need for an explanation, for it was quite literally all over our faces.

Our mom couldn't help but laugh at us. I mean, who can yell at two little kids that resemble pancakes with melted strawberries all over them? You can't. It's impossible. Instead she grabbed her camera and took a picture of us both with cheesy smiles that were so big our eyes were scrunched shut.

**

This would be draft one of many...the assignment is due next week and I'm not sure how long or short it's supposed to be, but I'm going to leave it for a bit, come back and see if I want to make any changes. Look at me being all student-y and stuff.

Posted by Sam at 07:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I've got it all. I have my dictionary, my pens and paper, my water bottles and laptop. I'm ready. I'm prepared. It's all good to go.

And now, how fucking ironic is it that the moment I finally get a chance to write, the doors and windows are flung open for me, people are begging me to write, write, write, they want me to, they expect me to and yet...I'm stuck.

I knew something like this would happen.

Sometimes, when I really sit down and think about it (which is quite often, actually), I do seriously believe that I was created backwards. Everything I do, everything I say and think is usually the exact opposite of how the majority of other people would do things.

Take for instance this entire journey I've been on to try and get to where I am now. In the beginning, a lot of people didn't think I would do it, that I could do it. I suppose for some that would have been the end for them.

"Oh, so-and-so says I can't do it and they're probably right. It's a crazy idea to try and go all the way over to London to live and get an education. Stupid idea."

Whereas for me, I took it as a challenge.

"Huh, you don't think I can do it? Watch me prove you wrong!"

The strange part is that towards the end once things really started happening and people were supporting me and cheering me on, I kind of lost motivation in myself. I became extremely self-conscious about it all now with everyone backing me and the pressure was so overwhelming I couldn't stand it. When I was fighting to prove people wrong though, it was a great power that I felt showing everybody how I could do it.

Now I'm here and the majority of the hard stuff is over and done with. I've proven my point, I made it and now I'm doing everything that I've been talking about for the past however long.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do now. Well, go to my classes obviously, but then what? Write? I'm supposed to be writing. And I'm happy to do it, really, I am. I'm just a lot more aware of the fact that I'm not just writing for myself anymore. I'm not sitting in my cube, wasting time at work while being distracted by random jobs that are handed to me throughout the day. I'm writing for a grade, for a diploma, for my life.

For the first two weeks, I stayed busy trying to get the necessary mundane chores out of the way; I was fighting with FedEx for my boxes, registering all of my classes and learning my way around. It kept my head up in the clouds and there wasn't much thinking. All I really cared about was making sure that I got it finished and checked it off my list otherwise my boxes would have been sent back home or I would forever have to use the annoying payphone on our campus that steals my coins. Once I ticked it off my list, then I could rest a little easier at night knowing that that was one last thing for me to worry about.

However, my To Do List is still very much with me, but it has shrank in size, which frees up a lot more time for me. My classes have started and it's time for me to really buckle down and get to business. It's time for me to write.

I just haven't got the slightest clue how to structure it all, or more importantly, what to write about? Can't somebody just tell me what to write about? Give me something. Anything. I've had some ideas, but after a couple of hours I think that they're complete shit and chuck them into the trashcan.

I know I'm probably just over thinking things and I should just let it all come to me naturally like I did before, but the truth is I'm really worried that I'm doing something wrong. Something must be wrong or will go wrong because it has all been too perfect ever since I arrived. Things are starting to feel normal, I feel comfortable, I feel natural like I've been doing this all my life. And yet, the tiny uneasy feeling that is deep inside way down in my toes, is slowly gaining momentum and is paralyzing me from the feet upwards.

Hello, my name is Sam, and I cry, whine and complain whenever things go my way. It's lovely to meet you.

Posted by Sam at 07:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)