15 posts tagged “event”

    I just checked the Higher Education Commission's website in order to inquire about my grants. If you remember, my $15,000 grant from the state was canceled due to "lack of verification" (which I still call ridiculous; the woman to whom I spoke on the phone said I had all the right papers -- she owes me money for my suffering, darn it) and I had to do a bunch of different stuff to make sure that the commission received the new paperwork on time. According to the commission's website, re-verification would only take a few weeks -- two, tops.
    When I saw that after three weeks, my award letter said I had received nothing, my heart sunk. I actually started looking at tuitions for other colleges. That school costs too much, and I can't get a student loan -- I have no cosigners.
   
    They were reinstated. The money is back in my name and has been sent to the university. That's money I don't have to worry about ever again.

    I'm about ready to fall over. I think a triple major is going to be cake in comparison to all this JUNK.

    GUESS WHO GOT THEIR APPLICATION APPROVED FOR A DOMAIN?!?! WOOHOO!

    Marsofel.com will be up in a few weeks.

     Jon's family and I were riding to a fireworks display (which we decided not to attend because the weather was horrible -- we called it "thunderworks" instead of fireworks) and we got bored on the way there. We started listening to random radio stations and as we were listening to a bunch of different bands and songs (we were going all over the place musically: pop, rock, "alternative", and Jon's mom even tried to put bluegrass on the radio), and eventually, out of boredom, I asked this question to Jon and Sean: if you could take any song and have it played by another artist, what would it be?

     We came up with some really messed up combinations (sometimes on purpose, sometimes accidentally), but some of them were actually good. Here are a few from our "good" list.

1. Korn performs "Youth of the Nation" by P.O.D. (my idea)
2. Amy Winehouse performs "I'm Not Okay (I promise)" by My Chemical Romance (Jon's idea)
3. System of a Down performs "Cherry Pie" by Warrant (Sean's idea)
4. Carrie Underwood performs "Drops of Jupiter" by Train (Jon's idea)
5. Linkin Park performs "Time and Time Again" by Chronic Future (Jon's idea)
6. Christina Aguilera performs "Famous Last Words" by My Chemical Romance (my idea)
7. Green Day performs "Sillyworld" by Stone Sour (Jon's idea)
8. Tool performs "Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode (my idea)
9. Eminem performs "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurhythmics (my idea)
10. Dragonforce performs "Barracuda" by Heart (Jon's idea)

     What about you guys? Come on! Throw the funniest ones you can at me (well, us). Seriously.

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles."

Such wise words from such a young girl. I've been thinking about it since I got back from the university; the sense of peace and love I felt when I was walking around alone at sunrise. All of the stress of the world seemed to go away at that moment...maybe it was the fact that I was near a church, a chapel, or maybe it was because I finally had a moment without human contact, but something in me felt right for once...and I know I want to keep it that way.

I have to get over my social fears, even if they are very deeply rooted. I have to learn to live outside of my solace and my prison at home. I think that's my biggest fear: the unknown. It's so funny, really...you can learn to live with something absolutely contradictory to what's good for you and never notice how detrimental it really is. I think a large part of it is my fault, which is a definite change from what I used to think.

I need to stop being so quick to anger just because of the people questioning me. Sure, I may not support my sisters, but I don't need to bite their heads off. I can be more welcoming, more willing to share things, and less quick to condemn. I need to learn to appreciate the world outside of this pixel-window in front of me. I need to realize that my world is only what I make of it, that there are much worse situations than the one in which I'm living...and, for many difficult and complex reasons, essentially enabling.

I'm scared, but I think I'm doing the right thing. Right now, though, I need to go for a walk and find a loving friend. That's what I think I need right now.

I won't be online as much, but I think it's for the best. Whenever someone dedicates their lives to something too much, a balance is thrown off. And while I don't believe it's anywhere near as destructive as drugs or pills, being online and in my room so much is definitely a crutch for my own problems, my own demons that I need to face.

Of course, I'll still update, but only in the evenings before I go to bed, I think.

Wish me luck...I really do think this is the right thing to do.

    On Friday, Jon and I got a look at the place we were staying for the next four years of our lives. We met people who could eventually become our friends, we met people I think I can say will be friends to both of us, and we both met our professors (who, are different for each of us, since we are taking entirely different classes). There are a few things that still stick out in my mind about the entire trip...
    ...the food poisoning I got from some nachos have knocked out some of the memories, but the most important ones have stayed.
    We left around 10:45 on Friday, hoping to get there by 12. It was Jon, Jon's mother, Jon's aunt, and Jon's little brother, Sean -- all of us in the car, ready to go. I wanted to go with my parents, but frankly, both of them were kind of apathetic. Work was more important to them, so I didn't push it. On top of that, I'm going to be alone there, so I might as well get used to it. Jon's family is pretty quiet, but his Dad's got the best sense of humor on the face of the planet.
    Ms. Shirley (Jon's Mom) apparently has a really hard time with directions, so Mr. John (Jon's dad, shockingly enough) lent her his GPS-direction-giving-thinamabob for the trip. He has the voice set to that of Mr. T, so we were constantly called "fools" during the trip. It was special, and I couldn't stop laughing for the first 20 minutes of the trip.
    When we got there, we were too late for lunch and had to get to the introductions of everything immediately. I was really genuinely moved by the speech of the Vice President of the school, who really emphasized the importance of growing as a person while you're in college, and not just 'learning'. I looked over at Jon, who said nothing, but I could tell that something was getting through to him.
    After the speeches, all students had to go to different rooms for foreign language proficiency testing. Even though I took three different languages in high school, I picked Spanish simply because I thought I could score the highest on it. Jon took two languages: Spanish and Latin. I recommended that he take Spanish, but he opted for Latin since he was the least removed from that subject.
    While walking to the building for our test, I think I earned the ire and hatred of every freshman in the group when the student guide asked us only one question: "Anyone have any questions about the test?"
    "Can we take more than one? Like, if we're done early, can we just go to, let's say, the French exam and do that?"
    Apparently, the kids thought I was a sucker for punishment, or insane. I did manage to make one friend, though: Veronica, whom I believe is either a fellow language/ed. major, or a psychology major (I can't remember which..we talked about everything).
    When we got into the room, I was absolutely stunned by the immaturity of the people there. Lots of swearing, loud talking, and flat-out rudeness to the proctor of the test, who had to restart the listening section of the exam due to an excess of talking from students. I'm not kidding.
    I realized why these kids were being so rude: they had no concept whatsoever of the importance of college.
    I was always taught (whether or not this is true, I do not know) that "money makes manners", and let me say this: that room proved it dead wrong. These kids for the most part came from very privileged families, and they acted like it -- completely aloof, rude, disrespectful, and apathetic towards how much of an investment going to a college is. The figure for that college is about 31-35 thousand dollars a year, and I don't know about you, but my family doesn't have that kind of money just laying around. I know how lucky I am to be there, and these kids just didn't. They were too focused on their clothing, their cell phones, and their shallow view of the world around them. I know how mean that sounds, but trust me, there is no other excuse for the way they acted, unless they were complete idiots (which is entirely possible).
    The test...was unbelievably easy. It was entirely multiple choice (which I did not think they would do), and the speakers on the listening section went at about a third of the speed of the speaking sections I had to listen to for my two years of AP Spanish in high school. Most of the kids in there seemed absolutely drained by it, and angry that I was very excited about it. Most of them probably weren't double majors in two different languages, though.
    However, what made me the happiest was the fact that the professor administering the test recognized me, and was happy to see me. There's something very exciting about that.
    After the test, I had an interview with the members of the LOFT housing (LOFT is an acronym for "Lifestyles of Opportunity, Friendship, and Temperance) for students interested in living in the LOFT building. LOFT is for students who do not smoke, drink, or do illicit drugs -- lest they lose their scholarships. Since I live in a community and went to a school dedicated to smoking, drinking, and drugs, and I want to get as far away from it as possible, I immediately signed on for it. I got to the interview 20 minutes early, which was fantastic. First of all, I got to see Jon and touch base with him -- I get so nervous when I'm in a new place full of a lot of people, so having him around was a blessing, and since the girl who was supposed to go at the 4:00 slot wasn't there, I got to be interviewed by her would be interviewers -- and it was great.
    There were two of them: a girl named Jess, with dark hair and glasses, and a guy named Taylor, who had some of the most blond hair I've ever seen. I got along with them from the get-go, and it was fantastic. Five minutes into the would-be 20 minute interview, Taylor looked at me and said "Just so you know, you're pretty much in." We spent the rest of the time talking about possible trips, our interests, and just basic things about the program.

Jess: So, what are you majoring in?
Me: I'm trying for a double major: Spanish and French.
Jess: ...
Taylor: French?
Me: I took a year of it in high school and fell in love with it.
Taylor: I love you, so much right now.
Jess: Yeah, Taylor's in love with anything from France.
Me: *laughing*
Jess: What do you want to do with that?
Me: Honestly? Teach.
*Jess and Taylor both look at me, apparently anticipating my workload*
Jess: Good LUCK.

      What got me in were my answers to these questions:

Taylor: OK, back to what we're supposed to be doing... *looks at Jess* we have to ask her some questions.
Jess: Alright. "What unique characteristics can you bring to the LOFT community?"
Me: *knowing that they have the same sense of humor as I do* Uhmm...I write plays with crossdressing in them, I like music, and I can tell you the pitches of car horns.
*both are laughing*
Me: Oh, and I can cook a mean quesadilla.
Jess: OH MY GOD I LOVE QUESADILLAS.
Me: Me too...
Jess: We had a girl in LOFT who worked at Chick-Fil-A, and we got stuff from there all the time...
Me: My high school has connections to Chick-fil-a, almost everything we did had free food from there in it.
Jess: ...oh my god.
Taylor: Yeah, but she was REALLY SERIOUS about that place...like if you called it "fast food", she got ticked off and went on a rant. She said it wasn't fast food, it was "sit-in dining"...
Me: Yeah...it's such great dining, it's done in three minutes or less!
Taylor: *laughing* Okay, one more question. Why do you want to be in LOFT? What can you bring to us, seriously?
Me: Honestly...I don't want anything to derail me. This is the first time...I've ever been far away from home, and...not to sound rude...
*Taylor and Jess start to look serious*
Me: But from what I've seen, a lot of the kids going to this school are very privileged, which is fine, but it seems like they just have no concept of money. I understand this and I appreciate this opportunity for what it is right now...and I don't think many people here can say that. I want to do as much as I can, and I want to do well because I know how much it's worth.

    Taylor was floored. "FINALLY. SOMEONE WHO GETS IT." He lamented, "I got some many federal grants and things, and so many kids here, it's like they have no clue how much it really costs to go here..."
    Jess continued: "Yeah. We'll tell you if you're in in August. So you know: you probably, pretty much, definitely are."

    I also offered to help with the committees to plan trips out to places...so I'm already "involved", in a way, which makes me happy.
   
    After the interviews, Jon and I both had to go to a thing called "The Pact", which, as I thought it would be, was about a book (the title of the thing we had to do next was in italics, so I figured it had to be a book). We talked with Dr. MacFadden about the Freshman Seminar class (it's required...think of homeroom in high school, but it's a full class) and what to expect from it. In there, I managed to make a "friend", of sorts, based on my love of music and theater.
    His name is Jedd...and while I definitely do not discriminate, if this guy was not gay, I'll be stunned. He was singing (and he had an amazing voice), and mentioned that it was from "Les Miserables". When I said I had never seen "Les Mis", he put his hand over his chest and gasped. When he mentioned later in the day that he had a girlfriend, I was pretty sure he was lying. Jedd's a little different though, insomuch that he seems a bit competitive with other music/theater people. When I mentioned to him that I had perfect pitch (I told him that I constantly got "abused" as the choir tuning fork in high school, and sought to explain the reference), he got a little...defensive. I was wondering what it was that I said, but hey, you can't please everyone. Maybe he'll get along with me better if we talk more.
    After getting our books, Jon and I headed to dinner, where we were invited to talk with other members of LOFT (which made me realize that he and I are pretty sure bets for getting in). I was just really happy that we seem to have found our niche amongst people in the community. A lot of the people in the freshman seminar group were very rude to us because of where we were from, and frankly, they weren't exactly the most well-spoken of people...which, honestly, made them sound extremely...non-bright. We got into a 20-minute argument about the correct pronunciation of 'caramel': I (along with many of the ofter LOFT kids) said that it is three syllables; Jon says it's only two. Most of the people there were either language dorks or math dorks (seriously), so we were definitely in the right place.
    At the end of the evening, we went to the other side of the campus (via a really really cool underground road for pedestrians that's beneath the highway) to see a comedian who was coming in. Both of us were expecting this guy to suck (since it was college entertainment), but he was really GREAT. I was very happy I went because as well as being a comedian, the guy was also a motivational speaker (who used his routines to help people), and what he said to me made me feel so much better about what I had been telling Jon: Find what you love, and do it.
    I've realized it takes a lot of nerve, especially now, to say that with conviction. Think about that: find what you love, and do it. I believed (and continue to believe) that since I live in a great country and I am at the age where I can choose to learn about something and use that for the rest of my life, that I am going to find something I like, and do what I have to do to make it work. Jon always shot me down when I said that (intentionally or otherwise), but after hearing Mister Ester talk about it, he seemed to believe it as well...which means more than I can explain. If you ever read this, sir, thank you -- very, very much.
    After that, we had an ice-breaking activity with the freshman class. Now, I enjoy socializing, but I can't do it when you're pretty much forcing me to do it...so this was just hell on earth for me. When we entered the gymnasium, we were given a white T-shirt, and a marker. We were told to get into a group with people who had the same colored marker, and have them sign our shirt...then afterwards, we were doing the same thing with the entire freshman class.
     It turned into an orgy, basically. People touching each other in places, doing it quickly and dirtily, almost. I politely requested that no guys touch the front of my shirt, since I really didn't want any guy (well, maybe other than Jon) touching anywhere near my chest.
    I found Jon and signed on his (out of fun), and when I tried to talk to him...guess what happened? HE GOT ATTACKED BY FIVE GIRLS AT ONCE. It was one of the weirdest things EVER. Thankfully, I'm not the jealous type, and just got a laugh out of the fact that he was having a pretty good time with it. Although I did have to ask one question:
    "Uhm, why do you have pink writing on your chest?"
    "Someone signed it...obviously."
    "Yeah, but why the...boob area.."
    "I don't know, and the weird thing is...it was a guy. Oh, and I have NO IDEA what it says."

     When we went back to the main campus, we sat and talked about everything we had taken in that day: the beauty of the campus (it really is stunning - especially at night), the people we've met, the expectations...and I started to tell him something I had never told anyone:

Me: I'm just happy that I made friends today...I can never talk to anyone, it seems...
Jon: Yeah, me too.
Me: I mean, I feel like...I think differently, I take things in differently...I mean, even when I have friends, sometimes I feel like I'm still an outsider, even though I'm in the group...do you understand that?
Jon: Yeah, I do, actually...
Me: I mean, you're charming, but I don't feel like I ever have any positive social traits, even though people seem to get along with me...what do you think?
Jon: Positive social traits you have...hrm. Well, you are kind of abrasive...sometimes, you just say things the WRONG way. I know the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but man do you say some messed up things.
Me: ...look, it's late. I gotta go to bed.
Jon: WHAT.

    Not what I wanted, or needed to hear...especially since I was really telling him something that made me feel unbelievably vulnerable. I was almost to the point of tears, so I just got up and left. He followed me, asking what was wrong, but I said nothing to him. I was blank; past anger, past sadness, and in fact while I was walking I wasn't even thinking about it. Eventually, we made up, but it just hurts a lot, and still does: I feel like he judges everything I say now, and that I cannot trust him to see me entirely as I am. I'm still censoring myself around him now...it's definitely a step backwards. We'll get past it in time, I hope.
    The next day, we signed up for classes and found out how we scored on our proficiency tests. Remember when I said that the kids in the testing room were complete jackasses? Well, they can kiss my butt: I scored out of both elementary and intermediate Spanish, which means not only am I starting at a 300-level class, assuming I pass that class (and I will), I will have half of a minor done, and I have saved myself over 5000 dollars in classes.
    ...which is good, since apparently, I will have to take classes over the summer which will total the same amount of money. It's the cost of a double major, and I'm fine with it -- I'll take out the loan and do it.
    I met my Freshman Seminar professor, Dr. Long, and I can already tell he's a sweet man -- very charming, soft-spoken, and he already likes me because I mentioned that I really wanted to get involved in music after I adjusted to the workload (he's the head of the music department).
    I almost didn't want to go home, but on our last day there, I woke up very very early, got dressed, and decided to go for a walk outside. I looked up at the sun rising over the mountains, listened to the birds singing, heard the church bells chime...and something in my heart just knew that no matter how hard it was going to be, I was supposed to be here, and that everything was going to work out. I believe that what happens, will happen, and that maybe, just maybe, all of my trials over the last year were all in preparation for this, an academic crucible, a social maze, and quite possibly, the best experience I will have in my young life so far.
    That sounded overly idealized, and I don't care. I meant every word. I can't wait for August.

    I'm way too drained to blog about anything right now. Over the past three days, I've had my life turned upside down because of the re-emergence of another person in my life (I will talk about it later), and Jon is not happy about it (I will write about it later), and I'm not too sure how to respond either (I will write about it later). All I can say is that it would make for a fascinating story, if I ever had the courage and maturity to write it all out.
    I've been stabbed three times in my arms, with round four coming up on Monday. It's actually much funnier than it sounds.
    As of right now, though, I'm packing. I have to be at the University by 1 PM tomorrow for exams, class registrations, and welcoming, which I'm sure will include flogging of some kind. I'm nervous but excited all at once, but really, all I want to do right now is breathe, relax, and maybe write some emails to my former teachers about how I'm doing. Two of them in particular were very adamant about my keeping in contact with them.
    I've really been through the wringer, a trial by fire almost, in all aspects: emotionally I've gone through darn near every feeling one can experience over the last three days, mentally I've been tested to the edge of my sanity (and beyond), and physically all of this stress has caused me to have two panic attacks, one of which ended in me vomiting and having other adverse physical reactions for about a half hour. It's been rough to say the least.
    Once I get through this orientation, I promise to write about it. Promise. :)

    So, today is Father's Day. I asked my Dad about a week ago what he would like (since I finally got a checking account and could probably get him something nice), and he said "I don't know...I really don't want anything." I kept prodding and prodding and prodding, but it just didn't work -- he kept saying he didn't want anything.
    Well, I couldn't do that. If there was nothing he flat-out wanted, I was at least going to do something for him. I went online this morning and decided to make him something to eat -- the man has lost so much weight it's not even funny, or healthy at this point (even he's said it's starting to worry him), so something to much on might actually be a good idea. I don't have any meat or vegetables around, but since today's a holiday, I decided to make blondies (brownies without the chocolate in them) with chocolate chips. Think "cookie", but more of a brownie texture and shape.
    Well, I wake up at 6 AM, go out to get the stuff, and by 7:45 the mix is made and the oven is heating...or it should be. THE OVEN DID NOT WORK. I managed to get them done (used the microwave on low-power for a good, long period of time), but they're still not as good as they would have been -- I managed to salvage about half of what originally should have been made.
    I'm so disappointed. He's such a difficult person to shop for, and when he says he doesn't want anything, it just makes me feel guilty. I wanted to do something for him so badly, and it just got messed up. The same thing happened to Carly, too -- Ginger ruined her gift at the last second (and as you can guess, she is NOT happy).
    What makes me feel the worst, though, was in order to make sure that nobody touched them, I covered them up and put them downstairs with Mom. It's 9 AM, and she already starts complaining: "Don't cook anything!"
    "It's for Dad."
    "Don't cook anything sweet!"
    The way I see it, it's a holiday. Carly told me that I shouldn't feel bad because he will eat them and he does have a major sweet tooth (it's where I get it). I just feel like I've tried so hard already today and it's all been for naught. I just want to go back to bed...
    Luckily, Mom's taking Dad out for lunch/dinner today, which means I can clean the house for him before he gets back. Seriously, nothing makes that man happier than a clean house. Well, other than a good meal...which I hope he'll have beforehand.
    My Dad and I do not get along, and there are a lot of things I can't forgive him for, but I'll say this: that man works harder than anyone I have ever met, and I am so thankful for that. When he found out I had a 500 dollar deposit for the university, and Mom told me she couldn't cover it, he paid it. He's also paying the down payment for my laptop, which is another 500 dollars, with no complaints (unlike Mom, who says I "shouldn't have to pay anything to go to college" -- seriously, even if you count the deposit, the laptop fee, and the loan I have to take, which is ALL I'm paying for my freshman year of college, it's less than 5000 dollars -- I'M NOT COMPLAINING.). If nothing else, I have the utmost respect for him, and I really hope I get those two jobs...because like him, I hate not doing anything...I have to be doing something, and I feel lazy if I don't. In a way, I guess I want to prove myself to him...but I know that my drive to do things sure as shoot did not come from my Mom -- that is all from the paternal side of the family, and I'm so proud of it. Dad, you taught me that hard work pays off, always, even if others don't think so, and that at the end of the day, you really have to be able to things yourself, because no one will give you anything. Those lessons have made me into who I am today, and I seriously can't thank you enough for it. I love you.

He said yes.

    I've been meaning to write this entry, but I've been simply entirely too exhausted to do it. Thankfully, I've been catching up on my sleep over the past few days -- it feels fantastic. I think I've just become used to being tired over all these years. Well, hopefully I won't be sleeping in too long; I applied for a job. I hope I get it, I really need something to do Monday through Friday now...
    Friday morning was absolutely insane. My classmates and I had to be at the community college for our last rehearsal by 7:40 in the morning. I was up at 5. and ready by 6 in full attire. Mom woke up at 6 and finally, after taking forever to get ready, asked me: "Marisa, are you supposed to be in your dress?"
    "I think so. I'm not sure."
    "Call someone."
    "I tried...nobody's quite sure. Chris isn't answering, and Matt told me to 'follow my heart'."
    "Follow your heart?"
    "Yeah, I have no idea what that means, either...so I'm just gonna keep this on, but bring my other clothes with me in case I don't have to wear it. We can just drive over somewhere and change."
    "That'll take too long. Just keep what you have on."

    Well, guess who was right? We got there and nobody's wearing their dress clothes, except for one total weirdo. Mom looks at me and says: "Well, you should have just brought your other clothes with you." Mom logic is fantastic.
    So, we wind up driving back home. I put on my clothes faster than I ever have in my life, I run outside, and we drive back to the university. I made it just in time. Memo to self: never let my Mother talk me out of being prepared for things. It generally doesn't work out well. I still don't know how she managed to make me change my mind.
    Rehearsal was tedious. First off, the building itself is about ten degrees hotter than it is outside -- and that's saying something on the first of June. It was stuffy, hot, and flat-out disgusting. On top of that, there had been some last minute line changes -- specifically with where I was supposed to be standing. Since I was a member of the chorus (and I therefore had to sign), the place where I was supposed to stand was changed for ease of movement from one place to another. It was nerve-racking since I was now out of alphabetical order, but I eventually got it.
    We practiced filing in and out, and also how to get our diplomas -- with our final report cards acting as the faux-diplomas. The assistant principal had fun saying my full name (she used to be a foreign language teacher, and she becomes entirely too excited by being able to use her accent), and thankfully, she pronounced it in a way that's acceptable to both sides of my family.
     Chris and I decided to ride together home, since I wasn't sure if he had a ride, and since my Mother really wanted to meet him. We wound up waiting there for over an hour. At first, I was just mad, but then I got worried.
    Turns out that she ran out of gas on the road, and had to have my Dad bring gas to her in a can. Apparently, he treated her like crap and called her "the dumbest f---ing b---- he's ever met", while shaking uncontrollably and foaming at the mouth, but she says she still loves him. I'll never understand. Chris and I wound up being able to hang out for about an hour at my house, which meant entirely too much to me...even though we only wound up watching random things on YouTube and looking at episodes of South Park. But I guess that's what friendship is, isn't it? It's not something that comes in a huge package...it's something quiet that you never truly realize until you see it slipping through your fingers.
    Fast forward to about 3:15 PM. I'm at the college, ready to go. It's entirely too hot, and the cap is killing my hair. JUST GIVE ME THE DIPLOMA. Finally, after some rehearsal with the choir, I go out and line up. It's too hot. We all just want to fall over and die.
    ...four PM finally hits. It begins.

    I'll keep it short. I am the owner of a diploma, with all three of my names on it. I also have honors in Latin, Social Studies, Foreign Language, Technology Education/Engineering, and a thousand dollars worth in local scholarships.
    Chris' speech was good, but he was so nervous. I got to sing (thank goodness), and I did cry, a little bit...

    I think the reason why I don't want to write about this is because I don't want to believe it's actually happened. I don't want to believe that I'll never see some of these people ever again. I don't want to believe that I'll never have another class with Liz, or that I'll never hear Matt call me "Bosley" again (he obsessively called me it after graduation, I guess because he realized it too), or that I'll never be able to burn through a paper in Latin class like Paris Hilton burned through boyfriends. I can't believe that it's done.
    So yes, I'm sorry that this entry sucks.
    Who knows, in six years, I may be back...it depends on if I'm willing to take the service obligation that comes with one scholarship I qualify for...

    The last two days have been so emotional that nobody would believe me if I posted everything that happened. It truly sounds far too surreal when I go through it in my mind -- like something from a really bad soap opera, or any of those new TeenNick shows that aim to make 11 year olds into 23 year olds with their overly hormonal, overly emotional story lines. Or, more accurately, a Telenovela -- what? I know my roots.
    Our relationship finally hit the breaking point. It had been happening for a while now, and every time I mentioned that something was wrong, it was always temporarily smoothed over, no matter what it was. Regardless, I felt hurt and unwanted -- if you were in a relationship where it felt like you were doing everything in terms of securing things that were important, and when you mentioned how things were progressing, you got insulted, and the other person for one reason or another didn't want to do anything until you got tired of it, wouldn't you feel a little drained and lonely?
    It was all the time. I would always have to call him or message him -- the only time he ever seemed to talk to me of his own accord was either when he needed something, or if I had mentioned that I was really upset over the fact that he never talked to me. It was as if he was never motivated by an interest in my world or my life.
    On top of that, we have some basic needs that...well, need to be met. Those being getting jobs, securing transportation, and getting on top of this whole "college" thing. I have overtly been working at getting these things -- heck, you can go through my blog entries and find examples all over the place. When I mentioned I got a job, he insulted me. When I mentioned my attempts to find someone to teach me to drive, he would make fun of me. When I talked about my grades and the paperwork I had to do for college, you got it -- he made fun of me. And whenever I got up the nerve to say something back, he would get quiet and say that he hasn't made any progress. It felt like he wasn't even trying. It's just not a good relationship when one person is trying so hard to do things and the other person not only won't help, but also won't support the first person. It's painful.
    So finally, after one last straw, I wrote him a letter and broke it off. I tried calling, but he wouldn't pick up the phone. The hour long AIM conversation and the hour-long phone conversation that followed that was just painful beyond all belief. He wasn't sad, he was angry, and he let me have it. Chris and I were talking online during the whole thing -- and thanks to him, I didn't get mad and say something I knew I'd regret. I also didn't soften up just because I knew he was mad...I just let him pour it all out.
    When he said he wanted to be left alone, though, I didn't listen. I knew he was hurt, but I needed to make sure that we were on the same page. It took half of my cellphone minutes to do, but it worked. It came down to the fact that we still wanted to be in each other's lives and that Jon needed to pick up his stuff. If that doesn't spell out "the end", I don't know what does.
    He came over the next day and I escorted him upstairs where I had his things. I locked the door and we just sat there, looking at each other, saying absolutely nothing. Eventually, it started. We both just cried, barely able to mutter sentences, for about an hour. Jon kept looking at me like he wanted to say something, and every time I managed to stammer out a "you look like you want to tell me something...what is it", he would say just "nothing", and we would continue to cry, awkwardly holding hands, getting closer...occasionally kissing, almost out of the fact that we both knew it would be the last time. We were holding each other, each trying to console the other, but the sentiment was the same: this isn't right. But...it had to be done. Finally, Jon asked me what he wanted to ask: "Why?"
    "We're too different. This isn't going to work out. It's better like this."
    He just cried. I held him closer and just rubbed his back. There wasn't much more I could do at that point. I couldn't say "it's going to be okay", because I wasn't sure. I couldn't say "we're together", because I wasn't going to do it. Nothing was going to change. Getting back together would be a mistake at that point.
    We started talking about why we were splitting up, and it became even harder. I could tell that he recognized the truth in what I said, but didn't want for it to be spelled out in front of him.
    "You just always made me feel bad. You made me feel lonely."
    "I made you feel lonely?"
    "Yes...you never supported me, you never wanted to do things with me, you never wanted to talk to me...it drains you. It hurts. It made me feel isolated."
    "I never...never meant to do that. I cared about you so much."
    "You never showed it and you never acted like it."
    "Just because I didn't know how to show it doesn't mean I didn't care...if I did nothing else, know that I cared about you."
    "Well, it's hard to believe that when it felt like I was doing everything. It wasn't just for me, it was for both of us...and you never wanted to help. You always just cut me down."
    "I was trying. I may not have talked about it, or worked at it as hard as you did, but...I was trying."
    "It's like you didn't care, even though it was for the well being of both of us."
    "I just...haven't cared about anything. I just don't."
    Most people, especially women, would take that as the last straw. They would take it as a kiss-off, the moment where they'd hand him his bags and tell him to get out. I couldn't do it...something in his voice and the way he looked told me something was seriously wrong -- just what I had thought earlier. After our conversation the day before, I went online and looked up "apathy" online. Sure, I knew the textbook meaning, but this was something else. And after reading, I had an idea of what it was.
    I just held him close, rubbed his back, and said very softly, "Sweetheart...I need to tell you something. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, or think it's the pot calling the kettle black, but...I think you're depressed."
    He seemed a little taken aback. "From what?"
    "It's not always just...something sparks it, but I think so..."
    "I don't know, I just stopped caring. Even about things I knew were important...college, getting a license, a job...high school, even. I couldn't care anymore...starting about a year ago."
    "Wait. Wait. When last year."
    "...actually, about the time I started dating you."
    I started crying. "I ruined you...I just ruined you didn't I?"
    "No...you made me happy...actually, now that I think about it...it started even earlier than that."
    "When?"
    "I can't remember exactly."
    I wanted to help, and I had to figure it out. "Middle school?"
    "No, I cared then...I mean, I did it because I knew I'd get in trouble if I didn't, but..."
    "So...high school. Ninth grade?"
    "No, later than that."
    "OK, tenth grade then. Did something happen at school?"
    "I can't think of anything."
    "Even if it seems unrelated...can you think of anything?"
    "...no...no."
    "...Did anything happen at home around that time?"
    He got quiet, and then just choked on sobs. "Yes."
    "What?"
    He was crying so much. "That's around the time my grandmother died..."
    He never told me anything about his grandmother. "Were you close to her?"
    He was getting very emotional. "Yeah, I was...and I was at her funeral, we were there, and I felt...nothing! Absolutely nothing!"
    "Did you feel bad about that?"
    "Yes! I felt horrible because I couldn't...I couldn't feel anything!"
    I just held him. I didn't know what to say or do. He continued: "And I hate feeling like this..."
    I asked him, "how do you know you love me?" I know it sounds like an insensitive question, but I had to ask it: if he could feel nothing, how could he be sure if his feelings for me were genuine?
    "I feel things for you...you're one of the few things I think about..."
    And I believed him. I knew there was no way he could make up what he said -- he wasn't sugarcoating anything, and he wasn't trying to be poetic. I asked him the big question: "Will you let me help you?"
    He said with such resolve: "Yes...I hate being like this, I hate feeling like this..."
    "It's okay. We'll go together. I promise."
    And that was it. We just kept kissing each other, holding each other...

    This was all some kind of strange nightmarish blessing; because of it, I know that everything is going to be okay. It's going to be so hard, but nothing worthwhile in life is ever easy. I can say that with confidence and resolve. All of it -- this is going to work.