Only a month and three weeks until I get to leave for Binghamton. I can't express how excited I am; things seem to be getting progressively worse the longer I am at home. Just today, my parents have been fighting with each other over money (their favorite topic) and they asked me for $600 to pay for fuel. I had to use some of my loan money to give it to them, but what else could I do? I live in this house too. Am I supposed to tell them no when they raised me and put a ridiculous amount of money into my upbringing? I know it was their decision to have me, and ultimately their choice, but still. I am indebted to them. If they ask me for help, I can't say no. Not when I have the means to help.

That's the part that vexes me, though. I have the means, but I don't have the means. I have about eight grand in my savings account, but that's money left over from a $10,000 student loan, and it's going to pay for my tuition at Binghamton for the Spring 2008 semester. Just one semester is about $7,000 for me, and that's after financial aid and scholarships have been applied. I picked an expensive school, but I've been resolved to go for over a year now. I will go and I think I'll love the experience.

But... I need the money I have saved. Once upon a time, when I was about 8-years-old, I had $10,000 saved up due to the efforts of my grandmother (she's always hit hard on college). I lost that when my parents took the money for bills. They didn't even tell me at the time; the only reason I found out was because I found a bank slip from years ago, and it stated the amount in my college fund. I asked about it and my parents came clean.

It's something I've never been able to forgive them for. I don't think I ever will, to be honest.

Now, they're asking me for more money. Just like when I found out about my college fund, they promised to pay me back, but I know I won't get it. When I wrote the check for the oil this morning, I had a sick feeling in my stomach. This is $600 of my Binghamton tuition going to my parents because they can't budget. That's $600 I know I'll never get back. And that's $600 more I'm in the hole on my loan.

I'm really... broken about all this. I'm not frustrated or angry, just very, very hurt. I feel betrayed, in a sense. I hate to play this card, but I never asked to be brought into the world. It was their decision, a decision I suppose I am grateful for, but theirs nonetheless. While I live here, I am depending on them. The fact that they allow me to live here is an assertion to the fact that they will continue to help care for me. Suddenly, I've gone from the kid needing money for a school dance to the primary bill-payer in my household, and all the bill-paying is done with student loan money and the earnings of a minimum wage job.

I hate this...

Things have changed drastically since my last entry on here. It's been nearly three months since I've written, but I've grown and developed into this weird human being who doesn't really know what's going on, as opposed to the well-informed person I was at the beginning of September. I've lost and regained nearly all my friends, I've confessed my love to someone I meant to hide my feelings from, I've been in a terrible car accident, I've grown apart from all that I know, and I've morphed into something that is unidentifiable.

I used to be able to classify myself easily with common adjectives in the English language. I can't do that now. My mind and soul have become a convoluted mess of underground tunnels and dimly lit hallways. There's this sickly sweet music winding throughout me, but I can't commit it to paper so everyone else can see. I feel truly, utterly alone for the first time. I am surrounded by people who claim to love me, but I still feel alone. Their assurances do nothing for me anymore: it's as though I'm a completely different species. I truly feel like I don't belong here.

It's late and I'm muttering such nonsense...

I am definitely not getting enough sleep these days. Actually, let me rephrase. I sleep all the time. I don't get enough rest. Last night I went to bed around midnight and meditated a bit before sleeping, hoping to really pound the thought of rest and only rest in my head. It worked. I didn't wake up once all night.

 

I even managed to sleep right through my alarm.

 

And my sense of reason.

 

And when I woke up, I wanted nothing more than to skip French this morning and go directly back to sleep. The decision was so hard; only a college student, with the invitation of a warm bed and only one class between 8 a.m. and noon, could understand what I am talking about. French was the only class I had this morning, at 9 a.m.; if I'd skipped, I could've slept until at least 10.

 

But no. My conscience kicked in and I dragged my overtired ass out of bed, showered, and then discovered I was so annoyed with myself that I took my damn sweet time getting ready (I actually did my hair this morning, something I haven't done in weeks). I ended up being late to French, though only by a couple minnutes, but when I was supposed to be talking to John about our French homework, we were discussing how little sleep either of us are getting these days. He knows exactly where I'm coming from: between work, class, homework, and studying, there isn't any time to do much else. Trying to fit physical therepy into my schedule has become a proverbial nightmare, and I had to request a bunch of days off from work next week so that I can attend a bunch of college functions to be inducted into Phi Theta Kappa (go me!) and have dinner with my scholarship donor (which I was going to skip in lieu of Phi Theta Kappa's orientation, but it is kind of important... free money and all). Life is ridiculously busy and I am feeling the effects, but I'm not against it. This definitely beats the hell out of summer, when my life consisted only of work, sleep, and undeniable, ever present boredom.

 

There's my rant for the day. I've got this weekend off so I'm going to go shopping with Mum to get new clothes and celebrate a bit (got into PTK and got a 98% on my first French test!), visit the girls in Mansfield, and SLEEP.

 

Thank God Bob had the decency to schedule me nights next weekend... *Gives harmonious thanks to God.*

 

Now, I'm off to lunch!

I've spent the last hour and a half alone in the house, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of aloneness I have. Not loneliness, but aloneness, something coveted instead of something feared. Mum and Dad are both at work, there is no music, there is no nothing but a mixture of calm silence, the sound of a car or two racing by my house, the clicking of my keyboard and the whirring of the fan above my head. I've achieved such a sense of peace in these last two hours, and the time has been slowly ticking by, making everything feel as though it is taking days and not minutes.

My exhaustion from this morning is gone and I feel... not rejuvenated, but at peace. There's this sense of inner calm that's been about me since meditation class yesterday, and I think it's because I found something deep within myself, a place I never knew existed. I found it when I meditated yesterday and I was one with it. I looked around and saw everything, truly took in everything, and for the first time in my life I left myself just be. The last few weeks have been a flurry of tasks, things to do and get straightened out, work and school, friends and family. But yesterday, when I went to that place, I finally understood what it was to let it all go and to be. I never thought I had a place inside myself that was so intimately mine, a place I don't want to describe to anyone or even try to describe at all because I can do its beauty no justice. Whenever I even think of that place I feel a sense of tranquility steal over me and I breathe more slowly, with more exaggerated breaths, and I find my mind clearing, becoming blank, not empty but wiped clean. And now, sitting in my dining room with a warm breeze playing across my skin and the sunlight filtering through the green of my mother's window plants, I feel the beauty of my place, my al-Yanna, all over again, and it pulls me into a state of mindfulness, of just being and doing one thing at a time.

I want to try very hard to take in all of this moment that I can, because I know that when I go to work tonight I will have to shake off this insatiable urge to do just one thing at a time, but I do not feel the need to. I do not want this feeling to go away, and after thinking about it, I don't feel it is necessary for me to extinguish this inner calm of mine. I am sure it will diminish slowly as the night wears on and I become busier (Thursday nights are always busy), but I don't believe it will hinder my performance at work in any way. In fact, perhaps it will help. Perhaps it will direct my focus more than it usually is directed.

I found that while in meditation class, whenever Elaine has music playing, it is much easier for me to wipe my mind clean and focus on myself, or my breathing, and take everything one step at a time. After reading a bit of Wherever You Go, There You Are (by Jon Kabat-Zinn, for those who are interested), I've also managed to discover that sound is my best key in to a meditative state. Some can sit and stare at a candle flame and, without knowing it, slip into their own meditative state. Lately, since I've begun to pay attention to when I am in that state of mindfulness, I've noticed it is always triggered by a sound. I do it in the morning when I heard the birds chirping, and at night when my fan is on a steady low. I do it whenever I listen to instrumental music (vocals seem to bring me back to this world and make me think, so I stray away from that when trying to meditate), especially the CD given to me by a friend or the CD my professor usually keeps in her CD player. So, since I received a nice bit of overtime pay in this week's paycheck, I'm going to go to the mall Saturday with Mum and do a little shopping (mostly clothes and whatnot) and hopefully I can find a nice, calm, relaxing CD that I can meditate to. I have the entire weekend off, so I'd like to toy around with some different mediums and techniques of meditation and see what works best for me.

But now that I've spouted all that, work beckons, and I must go when called.

"Your mind is your instrument. Learn to be its master, not its slave."

I am a such a fuck. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me anymore, why I fly off the handle at the people I care about for things that are either a.) inconsequential or b.) none of my god-damned business. I just attacked a friend of fifteen years tonight for something as trivial and meaningless as the girl he's dating, a girl who's like my sister. Ever since they started dating I've been weird about their relationship and can't seem to... accept what's happening. I just can't see the logic in it, but then being in a relationship isn't supposed to be about rationality, is it? In any event, I've been letting it bother me until tonight, I freaked out on said friend and said some really horrible things. Though while I acknowledge that what I said was horrible, I don't regret it. I spoke my mind, my true thoughts and feelings, only to realize an hour later that their relationship is none of my business, that I'm poking my nose where it doesn't belong, as per usual. I am so selfish sometimes; I think everything effects me and that the effects on my person are the most important thing in the situation. While I was caught up in my journey to self-importance, I totally ignored the fact that they're happy together. I detest that fact, but it is fact nonetheless, and I must embrace it since I am a being that thrives on fact.

I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I have no "significant other"; I'd rather not have one at this point in the game, to be honest, though the company would be nice. My friends are either away at school or too wrapped up in work/their significant other that I feel as though I've been cast aside. I'm more than positive I'm imagining most of that, but... it's how I feel. Stupid, really, but ever present.

My life is monotonous. I go to work, I go to class, I study, I eat, I sleep. There is nothing more to my everyday routine, nothing more to my life. That is what I do every day, and it's so hard to get out of bed in the morning knowing that each and every day will be the same as the day before. It's enough to bring me to tears at times, to push me to anger at others, and some days it's enough to make me want to drive my car into a ravine, or park it on a railroad crossing. Some days I can't help but wonder if an end would be better, but then I come to my senses, chastise myself for my weakness, for falling prey to a measly emotion, and I move on. I continue on with the same routine and try not to think of it until I can't stand it anymore and arrive at the same place I was before, considering my own end.

I can't even find joy in simple pleasures anymore, like writing or singing. When I sing, I am blank; I read the music, I repeat the notes, I make noise. When I feel like writing to get it all out, or telling a story or creating some fantasy world, I can't do it. I can't grasp at the ends of my fraying mind long enough to pull together a story, even a short one. I feel empty now when I try to write, like it's just another action and requires no thought. I can't force myself to focus or pour all my anger, regret, and sadness into words anymore. I can't pull myself together long enough to accomplish the task. And thus the one thing I thought would always be my saving grace has failed me and has left me in the dark, alone, like most others in my life have.

I want to cry and rant and rave to someone. I want to tell them how much I hate myself, how I'm weak for needing medication to live even a semi-normal life, how I want this miserable existence to come to a close. I want my life to move on to something great and extraordinary, something I can truly delight in, but I am in a proverbial rut.

Whenever I tell my mother this she says, "Be patient, Stephanie. You've just started college. You will have to learn patience in monotony before you can move on. It will take time." I've heard that line so much I could be sick. I don't want to take time! Everyone told me that when I graduated, life would be so different I wouldn't know what hit me. Nothing's different! Nothing at all! Everything in my life is the same as it was before I graduated. I am still a fucked up individual; people are still petty and fake; everyone still hangs with their same clique; nobody is interested in anyone or anything other than what is relevant to their own lives. It's like I'm paying $800 this semester to go back to high school. CCC is just like Addison: it's full of fake people leading fake lives and to stumble across a true human being is to strike gold in such a wasteland. I feel socially stifled in that place. I want to leave so badly it hurts.

I just want to make it to December. Then my life will truly start. It was so hard, though, struggling through the ups and downs of high school, waiting for the day I graduated and moved into college. I've been striving for this for so long and my hopes have been dashed. My disappointment has been great, and now I can only hope that Binghamton will be better. I have to try and survive another four months of this ridiculousness. I will survive; I've always been good at survival. But how far will my resolve crack in those four months? How far gone will I be when I leave?

Those are the true questions my soul is anxious to learn. Those are the questions that deprive me of my sleep at night, and those are the questions I am so determined to cast aside and write off as fears instead of acknowledging them in December as actual truths.

I'm so sick of trying to overcome and rise above. I want to break down in despair and give up, but my pride won't allow that. And so I trudge on, trying to make it through one day at a time, hoping each morning when I wake up that today won't be the day I finally decide I've had enough.

---

Back entry from Sunday, Sept. 2nd, 2007; 8:01 p.m.

Fat like Me
Watching a movie like this can really give you perspective on your own life. I’ve been fat ever since I was a little girl; I was born heavier than most newborns usually are, so being fat has always been just another part of life. But now, watching a movie that really addresses the issues of being a fat, teen girl, it makes me think and ponder and wonder what the hell I’m doing to myself, as well as what others are doing to me.

I’m a big girl. I know that people look at me differently because of it. That fact has motivated me for most of my life to be cleverer, smarter, and wittier than the average human being. It’s actually helped morph me into what some might call a cold-hearted bitch, but that has been my shield. It’s earned me respect but it’s also been my armor, an armor I can never take off. There are times when the journey through life becomes too long and too arduous for me to stand it anymore, and that armor is just too damn heavy for me to keep it on all the time. It hurts to know I can never shed that in public, never let down my guard because I know they will judge me, and improperly at that. I have faith that society will not disappoint in that they will always make the worst of every person, and will bring them to their breaking point time and time again.

At least the pretty, skinny ones have it easier.

Or is thinking that just as judgmental as their thinking that my weight is what defines me?

I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to make my life more bearable.

Speaking of unbearable, I have six sheets and seven dozen wings to make tomorrow morning at work. Joy...