Is it gross that I still shop from the Delia's catalogue?
Many a thought has been running through my head these past few days and I've been trying to determine if (a) they're worth the effort of documenting (for it has become an effort) and (b) if I should figure them out before I try to type them up. I guess that's the whole point of a diary, though. So:
Berkeley. There is no way in hell I'm getting in and the idea of somebody making a well-timed phone call is a little too political for me. My dad called me out on being uncomfortable to ask for help, and it's true. I don't want people to think I'm taking advantage of them. But moreso, I want to do it myself. I'm not sure if I want to be able to say I did it myself or if I actually want to do it myself -- I think it's a combination -- but the truth of the matter is, if Berkeley doesn't want me based on my application, I don't want them. Sort of. I mean, it sucks to be judged on 600 words and a decimal. I'm so much more than that! I...have a dog! I like to sleep in! I'm really funny! Don't hate me because I can't justify putting a lot of effort into being rejected.
But I can hate myself for being too afraid of rejection to put my whole heart into something. Or I could do something about it.
I have that habit that is often called "manic depression" but I like to refer to it as "me:" I'll be content for awhile and then ridiculously excited and happy and let's hike a mountain and let's buy a new wardrobe and let's rearrange the apartment and then I lay in bed for entire weekends, too terrified to face the people at the dog park and at the corner store, ducking my head and staring at the ground, only to dare a stranger to look me in the eye the next day.
I'm in this class right now, Contemporary Women Writers and Poets, and it's the first class I've had in years that I'm actually learning something from. I mean, I relearned basic algebra last semester and I've short-term logged pages of information for tests, but this is the first class, and notably the first English class, where I'm not scared to participate in discussions. I genuinely want to hear what other people have to say and I want them to know what I have to say. This is very typical of women's studies classes, for me at least: it's a very non-judgmental atmosphere (bullshit, my father says in my internal dialogue. Just get good grades, my mother dictates). Incidentally, I do have an A in the class, but it's not because I'm trying for an A; it's the first college class I've taken where I'm absorbing information, piecing together my opinions and perspectives of the facts, and being rewarded for it. I don't mind the hour-long commute home because I have a lot to think about after class. It's for that reason that I want to get into Berkeley; I've attended UCSB and education is not a priority there. It's a competition between who can drink the most, remember the least, and who can spew the most liberal political babble. I mean, I guess that's every college but at least I'd come out of Berkeley with some doors open.
And I've been thinking a lot about my father and his role in my life. He sends weekly emails of his goings on, to which neither my brother nor I ever respond, and sometimes I hate him and what he did to our family and he's doing too little too late with his fatherhood dictums he ends every email with. More often I want to give him his second, third, fourth chance to be a part of my life but I want him to be punished, to realize that he hurt us and that is affecting everything I think about and do and I wish it didn't but maybe I don't have a choice but to be glad it did. This is why people turn to religion: to make sense of tragedy and to know it will all be worth it. I'm too logical for that; nothing makes sense, and yet, I still pray to a western god I know doesn't exist.
But, I'm doing well. I have a loving boyfriend whom I love. He makes me laugh and cry, and he laughs and cries with me. We have our pseudochild, Damien the dog. I'm working full-time at a good-paying job with good people (most of the time) and going to school full-time and that's impressive. I give my $15 a month to the Sierra Club and pay all my bills early. I don't let myself get screwed over (in spite of the desperate attempts of my evil landlord, but that's another entry) and I try to help people who are [getting screwed over]. I can sleep through the night, I don't drink too much, I smoke pot maybe once a month if that, I could use some more exercise but who couldn't. I could smoke less, but that's my one vice right now, the one thing that's preventing me from being a full-on responsible grown-up (for only children could be so attached to something as simple as a stick) and I'm ok with that. I have future plans and I have a memorable past and I can make sense of and appreciate the present. But it is, and always will be, difficult to balance what has happened and what will happen with what is happening.
There. I feel better now.