Part of me doesn’t want the “November 2010” archive section to never appear on the right of my blog. The other part of me is yelling “screw this!” and running away to hide somewhere so I don’t have to write about nothing on my blog. I guess you can tell that the first part I mentioned is winning.
So, here goes nothing. Literally.
Updates are fun. Guess I’ll start with that.
I know where I am going to college. I will go for a year, alternating driving weekends with Robby (I’ll drive home to see him one weekend, he’ll drive to see me the next and so on and so forth) and then he’ll join me in (possibly) the ROTC program (which I also considered being involved in). I’ll go for five years in order to get my masters degree, and then Robby and I will graduate together. His college will be paid for by whatever military branch he decides to go into, so he’ll help me pay off my debt (he already promised!). We’ll move to wherever he’s stationed, he’ll serve and then we’ll move closer to home to start a family. I have my future all planned out, as you can see. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that this won’t come true.
Robby bought me an iPod for my birthday. In order to understand this situation, one must know that prior to this gift, I already owned TWO iPods (which I thought was a lot). I got the 4GB square Nano for my fourteenth birthday from my parents and then, a year later, bought myself the 160GB Classic because I needed more room. Robby got me the new Touch Nano (which I drooled over whenever the commercials came on). His mother bought me the new iPod Shuffle (pink!). My old Nano is in Bubbles, my Classic stays in my room, my Shuffle is to be used for running (which hasn’t started again yet) and the new Nano is with me all the time. I feel like a spoiled brat, but it’s not like it’s my fault. He chooses to spoil me, and I’m okay with it. As for his mother, she just loves me.
I have two writing jobs and have recently decided to pay a lot more attention to one of them. As for the other one, I fear I’ve been neglecting it. *sigh* As long as I don’t email my editor, I can pretend she doesn’t exist! Right? Probably not…
I met Jamie Tworkowski. Are you familiar with To Write Love On Her Arms? He’s the creator of the organization. I interviewed him (for the job I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting) and he signed my shirt along with a notebook my friend and I shared back and forth for years, writing poetry to each other. We even took a picture together. But, the whole time I was at his little lecture-type thing, I realized that I didn’t belong there. I haven’t cut myself in years, and it’s not like I was ever really suicidal. At the beginning of high school, I wanted to be the complicated and dark-looking goth girl that everyone is intrigued by. Emily The Strange filled my closet. Well, Emily now inhabits the drawers I never go into and I’ve realized just how dumb I was, regardless of how cool I thought I was. I never had any real problems; I never cut deep; I didn’t belong in the crowd listening to Jamie talk about Renee and spit out words involving hopeless cases of depression. When people talked about their own problems, I wanted to slither out of the room so I wouldn’t have to listen. The stories were enough to make someone depressed – that’s how I knew that I didn’t belong. The To Write Love On Her Arms shirt I was wearing was a lie; I hadn’t worn it in almost a year, but I pulled it on that night just to blend in. Oh well…it was cool to meet him and talk to him, but it wasn’t anything too completely spectacular (meeting celebrities generally isn’t that great, though I do have Jamie’s phone number, in case anyone would like it).
Life’s good. I wear rubber boots almost everyday, get told I’m cute several times a day, and think about the bright, albeit scary, future in front of me. If I think of anything else to write about, I’ll get back to you in a month or so.
Now I’ll see that November 2010 option pop up on the right as soon as December begins. Bring on the snow!