Sorry it's been a while. I really haven't had time to sit down and write in what seems like ages.
Last weekend was parents' weekend, and my mom and dad came down to visit. It was actually really fun; we watched the football game, went shopping, went out to dinner, saw a comedian, and hung out with my friends. I surprised myself by how excited I was to see them. I didn't realize how much I miss them and familiarity they represent until my mom had to leave on Sunday. I cried. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. I was sad as hell, and I think I'm homesick. I think it's taken this long for it to fully sink in, for me to fully understand what I'm doing here. I'm at college. What I do here will determine the rest of my life. God that sounds daunting. And everything's still so different. I have to take care of myself, learn effective time management, worry about everything all the time......it's exhausting, and I'm still getting used to it. I thought I was fine but.....maybe not yet.
Or, on the other hand, I feel like I'm falling into a rut of monotony that I can't seem to climb out of. It's so strange to have these completely different viewpoints bouncing around in my head, but that's truly how I feel. Like I'm being pulled in two different directions. On one hand, I feel like I'm still trying to get my feet on the ground and comprehend this change. On the other hand, I feel anxious and restless, like I want to constantly be moving around, doing something else, and being anywhere but where I am now. The feeling is especially strong when I think of my grandparents' house or of London, where I hope to live someday.
The only explanation I can think of is that as a person, I like change. I can handle it, embrace it; I crave it. I know college is something new, and I feel like I should be satisfied. At first, I felt as if it did satiate my need for change, but now it's old news. I have cabin fever. I'm only happy on the weekends if we go out somewhere, even if it's just to the mall. And I want to go to the farm so badly....I don't know if I can make it to Thanksgiving.
For once in my life I wish I could find peace and be content with where I am. I will never give up being adventurous, but will I live my life as a hopeless wanderer, never satisfied with my lot and constantly searching for fulfillment that I never seem to grasp? I do hope to settle down with a family someday; maybe this satisfaction thing will come with time.
Anyway, I feel a bit better now. Thanks for listening, nameless audience.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Doctor Who and Crying
I've decided that I am more emotionally invested in TV shows than I am in my actual life.
For the past few days I've been absolutely depressed about the last episode of Doctor Who. I'm still on the fifth season chronologically, but thanks to tumblr I know what happens.
WARNING: SPOILERS!! IF YOU ARE A WHOVIAN AND HAVE NOT WATCHED THE ANGELS TAKE MANHATTAN READ NO FURTHER!!
Amy and Rory died. I mean, we knew this was coming; Moffat warned us the ending was going to be like Reichenbach. But I didn't think he meant it literally!! I was so sad when I found out I almost cried right then and there. Amy and Rory weren't my favorite companions at first, but I grew to love them. And even though they died together, I felt their ending was the most tragic of all the companions. Rose got her own Doctor; Martha married Mickey; Donna forgot but she's alive and she has Wilf. In the end, they all leave the Doctor. And it makes me so freaking sad.
It's honestly kind of embarrassing how emotional I get over TV shows, movies and books. All my friends tease me about it, but it secretly kind of bothers me. I've decided that I just have this incredible empathy link with everything, and I'm such a sensual person that I like to experience everything I observe, even if it is vicariously. So that's why I cry when a lover dies; when families are reunited; when a happy ending is finally reached. I imagine I am that character, experiencing everything they do. I still haven't decided if this is a good thing.
Conversely, I almost never cry about my own life and my own problems. Of course, I've been lucky for most of my life thus far to not experience some great tragedy, like the death of a loved one or an identity crisis. But I have plenty of panic attacks and mental breakdowns that cause my other friends to break down. In these situations I am able to hold myself steady and I hide my emotions. It confuses me; I am so open with feelings related to fictional characters yet I am afraid to show my own. Aren't these emotions related? Shouldn't they be? Maybe this will be something I explore in the psych classes I take later next semester.
Thanks for reading. Whovian for life.
For the past few days I've been absolutely depressed about the last episode of Doctor Who. I'm still on the fifth season chronologically, but thanks to tumblr I know what happens.
WARNING: SPOILERS!! IF YOU ARE A WHOVIAN AND HAVE NOT WATCHED THE ANGELS TAKE MANHATTAN READ NO FURTHER!!
Amy and Rory died. I mean, we knew this was coming; Moffat warned us the ending was going to be like Reichenbach. But I didn't think he meant it literally!! I was so sad when I found out I almost cried right then and there. Amy and Rory weren't my favorite companions at first, but I grew to love them. And even though they died together, I felt their ending was the most tragic of all the companions. Rose got her own Doctor; Martha married Mickey; Donna forgot but she's alive and she has Wilf. In the end, they all leave the Doctor. And it makes me so freaking sad.
It's honestly kind of embarrassing how emotional I get over TV shows, movies and books. All my friends tease me about it, but it secretly kind of bothers me. I've decided that I just have this incredible empathy link with everything, and I'm such a sensual person that I like to experience everything I observe, even if it is vicariously. So that's why I cry when a lover dies; when families are reunited; when a happy ending is finally reached. I imagine I am that character, experiencing everything they do. I still haven't decided if this is a good thing.
Conversely, I almost never cry about my own life and my own problems. Of course, I've been lucky for most of my life thus far to not experience some great tragedy, like the death of a loved one or an identity crisis. But I have plenty of panic attacks and mental breakdowns that cause my other friends to break down. In these situations I am able to hold myself steady and I hide my emotions. It confuses me; I am so open with feelings related to fictional characters yet I am afraid to show my own. Aren't these emotions related? Shouldn't they be? Maybe this will be something I explore in the psych classes I take later next semester.
Thanks for reading. Whovian for life.
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