light bulb

I've had an epiphany.

This is 21st century America. This is a time and a place where women can make movies for a living. Think about that. Women, who in some cultures are not allowed to show their faces or even leave their houses, can make their own living, without a husband or a father or a son, and can do it by making movies!

People hundreds of years ago have given up everything so that we don't have to grow our own food to feed our families. Women a century ago have given up everything so that women could work and live with the same privileges as men do. And being a woman director, it's not like it's never been done before. It's rare and difficult, but it's obviously not impossible. Just because people don't do it all of the time doesn't mean it can't be done.

Basically, I live in one of the only times and places where I can do what I love, in the entire history of mankind, and I'm doubting it? People have fought and learned and sacrificed so much so I could have this oppurtunity, and I'm going "But what if I fail?" I can fail at anything, failing is not hard. If I'm going to fail, I'm going to fail exercising the opportunity that I have because of countless men and women over the course of hundreds of years. If I fail, it will be doing the thing I love. I have the choice and the freedom to risk it. So many people just like me have not had that privilege.

I'm in the right place at the right time. I have everything I need. So here goes nothing.

lots and lots of paperwork

One thing they don't tell you about growing up...the paperwork.

Holy Crap. (sorry Megan)

College applications, financial aid, scholarships, work, church, school, bank. And I'm not even handling my own finances yet. It just pours in, letters, mail, e-mails, it doesn't stop! I get to my glorious senior year, and what do I spend my time on? Paperwork. I asked my mom if this was a real world thing or just a getting ready for college thing. She laughed at me.

Senior year is actually a lot less exciting than I thought. Besides the fact that my friends and I can drive ourselves places, and the freedom that comes along with that, it's really low-key. Naps are big when you're a senior.

"Guess what I did yesterday!"
"What?"
"I took a two hour nap."
"Oh man, I haven't had a good nap in what, three days?"

Then there's shoveling. When you have a couple of hours to kill and you don't feel like a nap, you make your family happy and shovel. Going to people's houses for movies, too. Turn the gas fireplace on, pop some popcorn, make some hot cocoa, put in a James Franco or Channing Tatum movie, and you're set. What more could you want? School is just about the same. I'm taking three AP's, but I'm also taking minimum credits so I'm hardly ever stressed. In a desperate attempt to keep our attention, my AP teachers talk about sex a lot; Frederick the Second's soldier thing, Napolean's love life, the origin of Kamala's name in the novel Siddartha, and the red light quails in Psych. My senior class has known each other for at least 4 years now, sometimes 12, so the whole clique/stereotype thing doesn't really fly anymore. We know who we get along with and who we can't stand, so drama is pretty low. No one actually gets dressed for school anymore, hoodies are big, gym pants, too. We're running out of people to impress real fast.

It's fun, in a relaxed, comfortable, almost lazy kind of way. We've just outgrown a lot of things. Life is exhausting enough, we know how to mellow out when we can, and we know how to handle stress when it comes along. Everybody knows everybody, so trying to be something you're not is pointless. So we coast along through classes, and come home and shovel the driveway, file some paperwork, take a nap, and have everyone over for a movie. Maybe we finally have some perspective on life. Maybe we've finally settled into being real people. Maybe we're soaking in all of the comfy we can before we go into the big and mysterious college world.

It's not really the kind of exciting I had in mind, but I'll take it.

andiamo

Andiamo is my favorite word of all time. It's Italian for "let's go." The first time I heard it, I was sitting on my tour bus and Matteo was beginning one of his long language lectures. We learned "let's go" along with "where is the bathroom?" and "leave me alone!" and "how much?" and "do you speak english?" I had no idea how much that word would come to mean to me.

When the bus pulled out of a hotel parking lot for another unimaginably wonderful day, it was to a chorus of "andiamo!" When the bus unloaded on the beaches of Sorrento, or in front of the Coloseum, or the outskirts of Florence, we were dismissed with an "andiamo." After however many minutes of waiting, we picked ourselves up and brushed dirt from our skirts with a command, "andiamo." When we were cheering Italy on in the World Cup, it was with shrieks of "Andiamo, andiamo!"

After not too long, we adopted andiamo as our own word. When someone was taking too long in the bathroom, you banged on the door and yelled "hey, andiamo!" When you stood up from the table to leave, you picked up your bag with "andiamo." It became a tradition, a password. We never left the bus without it, we never set out for a new destination without it; we never began something new without our chant.

More than that, it became my motto. When I woke up to a sunrise over the Tuscan countryside, or the golden streets of Rome, or the traffic of Barcelona, I sighed and whispered "andiamo." When we set foot in a strange and not-english speaking town, given maps we couldn't understand, and told we had so many hours to explore, I glanced at my friends and laughed and said "andiamo." When I began climbing the 300 something stairs of the Florence belltower, I stared into the spiraling infinity and said "andiamo." When standing on the beach of Nice at sunset, I laughed "andiamo" and kicked off my shoes and rolled up my pants and dove into the sea.

It means "let's go." It's a challenge, it's a dare, it's claiming an adventure. It asks the world "Are you big enough for me?" It demands that today is better than yesterday. It has no place for fear and doubt. It announces "I don't know what I'm getting into, but I am going to own it, and it is going to be wonderful." It is my personal carpe dium. It is my motto, my creed, my oath. Andiamo is what I live by.

Psalm 78: 2-4

I'm flipping out. Why I picked now to flip out, I don't know. It won't do me any good. Everything just seems impossible all of a sudden. I just know I'm going to dig myself into inescapabe debt for college and hate it anyways, and then fail miserably as a film director and end up living in a cardboard box on some cold, snowy street, with a sign that says "will work for food." It just seems like there is no way I can pull this off.

I could just go to Niagara on scholarship, get a car, and study elementary education. I could graduate with minimal debt, find a steady job almost right away, and use my weekly paycheck to buy a nice apartment. I would know where I would be the next year, and make friends get comfortable in my new life. I might even like it.

But I can't do that. I will not make a desicion based on fear. I will not set myself up to ask the horrible "what would have happened?" question. I have to try. I might crash and burn, it's entirely possible. But I have to try.

I want a job where I have to know a little bit of everything. I want to work with people, and I want to learn something new every day. I want problems to solve, I want challenges. I want to wake up not knowing what to expect. I want to travel, I want to meet and know all kinds of different people. I want to take flat and silent black-and-white words and bring demension and movement and sound to them. I want to build a world where people can safely think and feel and live in, if only for a couple of hours. I want to tell a story that changes how people think about the world, their lives, themselves. I know this is what I want, this is what I was wired up to do. It is more than a job, more than a living. It is a vocation.

It's not safe, and it's not easy. Sometimes it's nothing short of terrifying. But I'll just have to suck it up, and keep moving, and have faith, and see what happens. I am not afraid of being afraid. But I am scared of taking the safe route, I am scared of never knowing, I am scared of never being what I was meant to be.

the glorious outdoors

I spent a lot of time outside today. Finally, after months of waiting, I went sledding for the first time this year. My brand new sled, bought just for this occasion, lasted four runs before it got all ripped up and died. But it was a lot of fun while it lasted, and I'm pretty sure I can patch it up. Then on the way to Timmy Ho's tonight I got a call from Mel, who had firmly landed her van in a snowbank. This called for boots and heavy-duty gloves and shovels. Digging ice chunks out of the front wheel wells in 15 degree weather and contemplating how sore I'm going to be tomorrow, I realized why some people don't like winter.

When I was little, I was afraid that growing up meant that you couldn't have fun anymore. That adulthood was a world of pantyhose and obligations and social laws demanding reserve every minute of every day. But today I went sledding like I have every winter since I can remember, complete with puffy snowpants and Land's End boots. And even though my legs are longer, I still reached target heart rate on my first trip up the hill. Unlike my Christmas tree, I'm pretty sure that hill gets bigger every single year. I stood at the top with the same trepidation. Going down, my bloody murder scream hasn't changed a bit. And it had the same thrill, that feeling of flying a hundred miles an hour, and wondering each time a bump hurls you into the air whether or not you will actually touch down to earth again. And lying back on my sled at the end of the run, staring at the sky and listening to my heart pound, my breathless, relieved laugh is exactly the same as it's always been.

Who you are doesn't really change. You just grow some more layers. No matter how thickly coated you are, or how different it looks from the outside, there's always that core of you. That's where the bloody murder scream comes from, that's where that little laugh comes from. That's the oldest, most pure, most universal part of you. It's good to branch out and deepen and grow. But don't lose that central piece. It knows how to sit back and laugh at the ride.

long weekend

This is what my room looks like after a school day. The shades have not been opened, my bed has not been made. There are pajamas on the floor and the closet is wide open with shoes strewn all over the carpet. My desk is covered in papers and binders and textbooks. My pilates mat is taking up my floor space and my gym shorts are lying in some corner. My clock has the little alarm signal flickering in the corner.

Not the case today. My bed is made, and the pillows are propped up against the wall. There's a book open, face-down on the cover. My curtains are open, and actual sunlight is streaming in the windows, making my orange-tinted walls glow. My i-pod is hooked up to my speakers, my laptop is open on my clear desk. Clothes are not on the floor, or even in my hamper; they are in the wash! My slippers are sitting at the foot of my bed. I have shopping bags next to my bookcase (and an empty wallet on my dresser.) A half-full glass of chocolate milk is on my desk. And my clock is completely devoid of any alarm icon whatsoever.

If my room is that much happier, can you imagine how thrilled I am?

it's alive!

No, I did not fall off the face of the planet. But my internet did. So, now that I'm up and running, I can finally blog again. I wish something wildly exciting had hapened so that I could fill everyone in on it.

Let's see, Indy beat New England, everyone knows that one, the Bears won soley through ref bias, everyone also knows that, I took my Psych test yesterday, thought I did pretty well but I should have studied the brain a little more. Yesterday I studied European history for a few hours, took a nap and watched a show about Italy on the travel channel. Last night I decided I don't want to take Italian in college, I want to learn an African language. It is absolutely beautiful, it sounds more like music than talking, and it would be so different from a romance language. Granted, I would proably never use it, and as a little white girl I'm sure I won't do it any justice. But who cares about practicalities, anyhow? This morning I woke up at 8:30, and for the first time since catching this nightmarish cold, coffee actually tasted good. Then I read some of The Little Princess (I'm on a children's classics binge, I just finished A Wrinkle in Time and I think The Secret Garden is next.) Then I got my internet back, and now I'm here.

Wildly exciting life, I know.

And now to continue the madness, I will go get a grilled cheese sandwhich, milk and oreos, spend a few hours on European history while watching the democratic rebuttal to the State of the Union Address which I taped, take a shower, and go to work for 4 hours.

Jealous?

To Do List

1) E-mail Niagara about acceptance and scholarship
2) Make psych flashcards
3) Make Euro flashcards for the 10 page powerpoint
4) Research and outline the early french revolution
5) Start studying for psych in my review book
6) Finish my impossible english poem
7) Clean my bathroom
8) Plan my lesson for tomorrow
9) Get to Wegmans to buy tomorrow's snack, and some other stuff

Are we having fun yet?

just when you think you're in control...

When I was little, I thought that grown-ups had it all figured out. That once you turned a certain age, the universe became clear. Life would be all lighted-up and make perfect sense.

Every adult I have ever known must be faking it.

The older I get, the more lost I am. Half the time, I have no idea what I'm doing. You know how you can tell when a person's lost because they slowly rotate in the same spot? Sometimes they move to take a step but then pull their leg back in. That is what my brain does all of the time. Something picked me up out of my small, safe child-world and dropped me into this massive and strange grown-up world and said "Go!"

So I do what every reasonable adult does. "Maybe, if I make it look like I know what I'm doing, everything will work out." I am learning the art of stepping confidently towards who knows where. Speaking with assurance when my brain is screaming "What do I do? What do I say?" What is going on?" Making decisions concerning things I know nothing about. You know, ad libbing.

You just have to jump off the cliff all the time, and build your wings on the way down. All you can do is pick the cliff that looks the best and jump, do everything you can, and see where you end up. Terrifying, yes. But once you get used to it, free falling is kind of fun.

It's magic, she says to me...

My definition of magic is not the classic, fairy tale kind. Magic to me is uncommon and unnatural. It is a connection to something more. It is that beautiful thing that happens in the middle of clanging, mis-matching, dysfunctional and dull every day life. When circumstances click instead of collide. You never see it coming, and you can never really hold onto it.

It is when you lose yourself completely in something. You sit to jot down a few words and before you know it, it's an hour later and some of your soul is laid out on paper. You hear a song that brings back everything from some moment years ago, what you were thinking, how you were feeling. After months of damp, cold, cold, brown weather, you wake up to white lawns and houses and frost-covered trees. Your football team wins a game it shouldn't have. You swim a race faster than you ever have before. You're reading a book and you come across a line that jumps right off the page and into your heart.

Magic happens randomly, without system or reason. But it always seems to come right when you need it, right when you can't take it anymore. When all you can see of life is the dullness and the sameness, never forget those strikes of magic. That is when you know that it's ok, it's always been ok, and you're going to live forever.

i know this is cheating

I know this doesn't really meet my standard of writing everyday, but midterms are coming up and I'm a little short on time. But this is a poem that we wrote an essay on in English, and I keep thinking about it. So I figured that this is a good place for it.

Siren Song

This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistable:
the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see the beached skulls
the song nobody knows
because anyone who has heard it
is dead, and the others can't remember
Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?
I don't enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical
with these two feathery maniacs,
I don't enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.
I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer. This song
is a cry for help: Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique

At last. Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.

~Margaret Atwood

i just remembered my english homework...

The first day of the year that could constitute a snow day (ok, an ice day) also happens to be a national holiday. This morning I pan-fried my bagel, kept my coffee pot wrapped up in a towel to keep in heat, didn't shower, and read in the dark. Which would have been a lot of fun if the alternative was school. However, the alternative was hot coffee and morning television followed by a hot shower and an early start on my homework. In the end I decided that no school is no school, regardless of the reason. I also decided I was really glad to be a 21 century American. I'm so lucky that my biggest injustice is a snow day on a holiday. Ironic that the lights need to go out in order for me to see the big picture.

Theoretically it's going to snow all night long. Even if there is school tomorrow, it will look like winter instead of the three month long November we've been having. That would make me really, really happy. I have a late-night sledding party all lined up and ready to go.

Well, I was going to go to bed at 8:00 and start my week on 10 hours of sleep, but I just remembered my english homework. Any other class, I would let it slip just this once. But, it's English and Senioritis does not apply. There's also the fact that I don't have a deathwish. So, I'll have to start my week on 9 hours instead.

I think I'll live.

twice in one day

I was reading my old journals and I ran across this. It's from my very last day of swim practice, and I can't think of anything that describes growing up as I know it better:

"I was out last. I stood in the door for a bit just looking at the pool while four years of memories flickered through my mind. The diving well, the benches, the deck, the scoreboard. And then I said goodbye, and changed, and left.
I was surprised there was so little closure. I guess I thought there would be trumpets resounding inside of me, announcing the close of one chapter of my life along with strong feelings of accomplishment and peace. In reality I was standing alone in the hall with my heavy bag pulling on my shoulder and wet hair dripping down my neck, cursing myself for forgetting to turn out the locker room light.
It has occured to me that I alone can live my life many times before- I'm not a stranger to that aspect of growing up. But I've always seen it as a kind of exciting independence. Walking away from the pool today, though, I was alone. I was entering a part of life where my team can't come with me, where no one can come with me. And for those few minutes, standing in that silent hallway, I was afraid and very lonely.
But then I climbed into car, floored it on Buffalo road and got up to 60 with freezing air coming in through the windows and the radio cranked up. And I knew that this life that I now have to start building on my own will turn out alright- it will be good."

I never knew

Today for my lesson about guy/girl relationships, I had 7 boys and no girls. This could be a frightening thing, but it turns out I have the best boys on the planet. Here's how the actual lesson went:

Me "So do you guys have any friends that treat girls badly just beacuse they're girls?"
Them "Well yeah, but they're jerks for it."
Me "Ok, do you guys have any friends that are girls?"
Them "Yeah" and "Sure" and some "My best friend is a girl."
Me "Do any of you have girlfriends?"
Them: "Sure."
Me "And what does that mean?" (I'm hoping I'll catch some up here)
Them: "It's someone you can hug and care about and will care about you back."
Me: Silent. Wondering what I'm going to teach these boys who, right now, have it all figured out.
Them: "Look, is there a point to this?"
Me: "Not really. Want to play marbles?"

I fed them cheese and crackers, and they taught me how to play marbles. Aaron said "Wow, you suck. But that's ok, you can be on a team with me." My special ed kid, Matt, won a game and therefore won respect from everyone in the room for the rest of their lives. I talked football with them, and unlike most guys my own age, they listened. When they left, they left crumbs and marbles all over the floor, and Lynden put the rest of the peperoni in his coat pocket.

How can you not love that? They're messy and loud, yeah. But they restore your faith in mankind like nothing else.

Go Orange!

Well, even though my movie fell through (when I got there at 7, people were buying tickets for the 10:00) I did go to the Syracuse game today. I think nothing makes me hate high school more than the Carrier Dome. When I walked in, Em had to tell me to pick my jaw up off the floor. We sat in the nosebleed section, and it was so high up and so steep it felt like I was watching a basketball game on the side of a mountain. It was massive and loud and all orange and blue and everything I've ever dreamed of.

So for church tomorrow, I have to teach my 5 and 6 grade class about boy/girl relationships. My class consists of 8 boys and 2 girls. Usually the ciriculum is good, but I have no idea whose brainchild this one was. I'm supposed to use terminology like "opposite sex" and "gender roles." Are you kidding me? Whoever wrote this has never met a 12-year-old in their lives. My point is, I have some serious modifying to do, and it's going to be a really hard lesson. At the end we'll play a game, and I'm bringing them cheese and crackers, so I think we'll pull through alright.

New Orleans just intercepted! They're playing the Eagles. Have I mentioned how much I hate the Eagles? Someday I'll tell the story. Let's just say, sometimes I can really hold a grudge. Ok, the playoffs are calling. Goodnight!

take a shower, shine your shoes

I didn't update yesterday. That's because I fell alseep halfway through my euro notes for about an hour. Then there was a new episode of Grey's Anatomy on for the first time in weeks. I know, sad excuse. But I need that one little guilty pleasure. Adison almost kissed Alex, for crying out loud. She's recently divorced and at least a decade older than him, and he's still in love with Izzy. That's good stuff right there!

Anyways. These next 24 hours are going to be way too much fun. Tonight I'm going to see The Painted Veil at the Little Theatre, and the director John Curran is going to be there for a Q and A afterwards. I'm going to take notes...

And tomorrow, I'm going to Syracuse to watch them play Villanova. I'm going to be on campus all day, and buy and Syracuse t-shirt, and then go to a Syracuse basketball game. It's going to be wonderful. Hopefully I'll have many more days like that to come.

One more thing. I need an idea for a film. Since I got my MacBook, iMovie has been calling to me. So many possibilities...The "Drama in Drama" idea isn't going to work out, because play practice hours conflict with my work hours. So I need a new game plan, and I'm open to any suggestions.

I may still have to go to school every day, and It's still always dark out, and it's true that there's no snow. But life is starting to get exciting now, and I need to not forget that.

Winter Duldrums

So. I am bored. It's not like I don't have enough to do, believe me. With 3 APs spare time is not abundant. But that doesn't mean I can't be bored. Getting dressed has lately meant pulling on a pair of jeans and grabbing any random swimming t-shirt. All of my classes are basically the same, and the days with 3 hours of study hall and economics are killers. You know when you say a word so many times it loses all meaning? It feels like that's what's happening to my weekdays. Like I never really wake up or understand what's going on, I just trudge away with my head down.

It's this time of year that I want to just go. I mean, I always want to travel, but now is when I could so easily get into a car and drive and drive who knows where. Canada, Florida, California, just pick a direction and go. Not caring about the destination, just moving to move, going to go. Change of scenery, change of pace. New places to see, new people to meet, maybe friends to make. New stories to tell. Think some new thoughts instead of the old, stale ones. Wake up a little bit, see some more of the big picture.

I hate routine. I hate sameness. It makes me feel slow and sloppy and way too safe. I want challenges to figure out. I want that discomfort that pulls out and breaks up my insecurities. I want to go to bed at night knowing something that I didn't know when I got up just that morning. I want to get away from all of the tiny "important" things and see the ones that really matter. You don't grow in the same size fishbowl. You don't learn what you're made of when you're comfortable.

I know it's because midterms are coming up. I know it's because it's the blah-est winter of all time, and right after the holidays. I know it's because I'm a senior in high school. But I feel slow and stuck, and it seems like life in all of its brilliance is rushing right past me. And I'm missing out.

six months ago today!

Yesterday, I was sitting on the bus coming into school. It was the darkest, coldest part of the night (it's not morning until the sun is up) and it was just about freezing. That means sleet instead of snow. And the wind was blowing like it wanted to slice right through you. And all I had to look foward to was yet another day of school. It was completely miserable.

So I remembered. I thought about the beach in Barcelona. I remembered how it was so hot that sweat was rolling down my back. I remembered how tan I was, and how my eyes were so full of sun that they hurt. I remember my bare toes, getting sunburned and covered in dirt. My sundress floated light over my skin and stuck to the parts of my swim suit that were still wet. The top of my head was dry and hot, but the underneath layers of my hair were still damp from swimming and kept my head cool. The ice cream I was eating was freezing, and made my mouth and throat and stomach cool again. My muscles had that dizzy, lazy feeling that comes from sleeping in the sun; after the bright heat has pounded out all of the tightness. Everything in me that was stored up from the winter, everything that was cold and dull and angry, was gone. It had been rubbed loose by almost two weeks in constant sun, and washed away in the Mediterranian. I was so full of sun and salt and clean air, it felt like my edges blurred in that place, like if you walked past me, you wouldn't see me out of the corner of your eye. I was summer-possesed.

And then the bus lights flipped back on, and I was kicked out of my daydream back into the dark, loud cold. And it was ok.

That trip was like nothing I've ever known. It wasn't just a two week tour, it was a reminder that life is good and worth living, not just getting through. I learned that the world is big enough for me, and that growing up is just as intensely good as it had been intensely bad. Most importantly, I learned that the really good things are things that you don't need a place for, or a language for, or time for, and that those are the ones that last forever. If it weren't for that trip, I don't think I would know right now what to fight for, what to hope for, or what to live for.

I know it's impossible to explain how important that trip was, but I'm a writer so I'll try anyways. I talk about it because if I don't tell the stories, or write about it, then it's less real. And for a long time yet, I need it to stay real to me.

being sweet just doesn't sell, and i've got better things to do

I learned something about myself today. Well, it's nothing new, some things just kind of fell into place.

When I visit a college, I'm not the one talking to the representitive, trying to get noticed or remembered. In my college interview, I was really uncomfortable bragging about myself, even though I knew that's what I had to do. I don't think I've ever flirted with any guy, and I never really want to. When I have a new teacher, I'm not making conversation, trying to get on a good side.

I hate putting out. I don't mind attention, but I hate actively trying to get noticed. I want my words, my work, my actions to speak for themselves. I want to be noticed for what I am, not what I'm trying to be, or want to be, or wish I was. I'm not quiet, I'm not shy, I'm not underconfident. So what does that make me?

Anyways, as I want to be a filmmaker, and networking basically decides your success or failure, I'm going to need to get over that in some aspects. It's something to work on.

i hate the eagles

Eagles beat the Giants tonight. My brother said I can't hate the Eagles my entire life. He's wrong.

So, I have spent 13 hours in the past 3 days getting that european history project. I'll give you a little insight as to why I love and hate Euro all at the same time.

Absolute Monarchs of Prussia (in order)
1) Frederick William
2) Frederick the First
3) Frederick William I
4) Frederick II

I wish I were joking, but I can't make up stuff like that. By the way, Frederick II was the one with the soldier fettish. He only recruited tall men and made them wear their military uniforms 24/7. Turns out his wife knew and was perfectly OK with it.

And on that note, I'll say goodnight.

what are the odds this ends and we won't meet again?

Here It Goes Again by Ok Go - song of my life. Well, part of my life, right at this minute. Hahaha.

I'm not really sure what I have to say tonight...

Oh, I did get a half-tuition scholarship to Niagara today. Which is strange, becuase I don't want to go there. I finally figured out what I think I want, and Niagara doesn't have it.

Having your life up in the air is really strange. Most people know where they're going to be 8 months from now. I won't know until four months in advance. I'm looking at my calander, and I have no idea what wall it will be stuck to a year from now. Could be Syracuse, or Penn State, or Hofstra, even Niagara, or this same wall. Something like knowing what size sheets to buy or whether or not I can have a coffee maker or a mini fridge. What kind of shoes or winter coat I'll need. What color scarf to knit. I can't make plans, I can't prepare, I can't even imagine what my life will be like. You know me, I like to know what I'm walking into. But, for the first time I have come to one of life's turns. You don't know what's around the corner, and there's no way to see it until you actually get there.

Welcome to the adult world. You make decisions as best you can, you take every opportunity possible, and then you hang on tight and see what happens. We have less control than we like to admit, sometimes less than we even want to think about. I'm beginning to see that control is an illusion, security is just an illusion. The only thing that you can really build your life on is faith. There are just some things that are beyond our capacity, some times when there is only one decision to make: I can leave this up to God, or I can leave this up to the world. Handing over the reins is a really scary thing. But then, trying to handle them on your own is scarier.

Wow. That was pretty deep for having nothing to say. That's what I get for wiritng after some 6 hours of euro homework. And I'm not done yet. So, for your sake as much as mine, I'll stop being philosophical and get back to the absolute rulers of the Netherlands.

i am so tired

Ok, as my New Year's Resolution is to write every day, and I haven't yet, and there's only 20 minutes left of January 5, 2007, I'm posting. On very little sleep. Which means this will not be anywheres near coherent.

Things That Make Me Happy:

~ bad navigation skills
~ apples & apples
~ dogs named after famous french soccer players
~ crazy, bread-baking, naked frenchmen
~ crazy pupeteers married to naked frenchmen
~ spanish music
~ europe pictures
~ spending 4 straight hours laughing your head off
~ my bed, which is soft and warm and i haven't spent nearly enough time in this week
~ the glorious fact that tomorow is saturday, and i can sleep for as long as i want.

See, not coherent at all!

And now for sleep.

i guess there's gotta be a break in the monotony...

It's not procrastination. It's stress-efficiency. Some people like to get a "head start" and stretch out an assignment over the entire time period you were given. It's like getting into the pool one step at a time; it's uncomfortable and prolonged. Now, stress-efficiency is not worrying about said assignment until it's really crunch time. Although the stress is more intense, it doesn't last nearly as long. So, if you're one of those people that take 10 minutes to get into the pool and 3 weeks to do a 3 week assignment, I can respect that. However, I am more of the cannon-balling, weekend-cramming kind. Now, the smallest fraction if high school students fall under the "smart" category, also known as the raging overachiever category. These people have the dicsipline to begin a project immediately after it has been assigned, and complete it in a small amount of time. It's efficient, and due to lack of time crunch, almost stress-free. If you have ever actually met one of these people, please let me know; I would like to see what they're like, and maybe sit at their feet for a little bit.

Another thought. Do you know how hard it is to make a powerpoint on a computer that only has the 30 day demo version of microsoft office? Pretty hard.

And now I'm going to stop being stress-efficient and get to my project.

there was an old general with a heart of gold...

Ok, so these Euro notes are never going to get done. And I'm alright with that.

Lyrics from my favorite song of all time, which is The General by Dispatch (thanks to Lindsay for introducing me to this.)

"I have seen the others
And I have discovered
That this fight is not worth fighting
And I've seen their mothers
And I will no other
To follow me where I'm going

So, take a shower and shine your shoes
You got no time to lose
You are young men, you must be living;
Go now, you are forgiven."

Make of it whatever you want, I'm still deciding and re-deciding what it means to me all the time. (Which is why it's a good song.)

how else could you tie my head to the sky?

So. My plan for right now was to do some pilates and then my euro homework. Currently, I am eating dark chocolate while sitting at the computer. I know, I have stunning self-control. But I should be allowed to ease into life again a bit, don't you think? I mean, today was rough after a week of doing whatever I want and getting some 12 hours of sleep every night.

So, Sunday night, Brett Favre may have played his last game. Granted, people have said that going on three years now, but he definately sounded like someone who wasn't coming back. And all of my friends laugh at me "He's so old," and "my god, I think his hair is going gray. It is!" and "isn't he in Viagara commercials?" (By the way, it's medication for heartburn, you idiots!) But can you imagine a football league where someone isn't willing to bomb it 50 yards on the third down, or believe they can come back 14 points with 3 minutes to go? Who else breaks their receivers' fingers? Who else takes huge hits for their runners? I saw one play where a lineman was charging right at him, and Favre grabbed this guy's jersey and laid him right out. No other quarterback does that! After playing for nearly as long as I've been alive, and no matter how amusing that is to everyone, he played every game like it was the most fun he's ever had, like it means everything and at the same time is just another game.

When you grow up, your parents are not there telling you how to act and what to do. Just in the same way, your heroes start to fade. They may still be there, they may still be an inspiration, but they don't have the same presence in your life. It becomes your responsibility to take all of the lessons you have learned from them, stop admiring them and start applying them. It's time to take the traits you've long revered in someone else and begin to make them your own qualities. It's the period of transformation; from having a hero, to maybe someday, to someone, being a hero.

So, as an effort to maybe end the mockery, I will finally spell it out the lessons that can be learned from nothing but an ancient football player. Listen up, you!
1) Passion. You know how many people live out their careers, relationships and entire lives without even a shred of passion? Too many. It isn't really living at all. We are all so afraid to feel, to care, to give into something. It's not right.
2) Fearlessness, courage, bravery, whatever you want to call it. Action in spite of fear. Resolution to never let fear or doubt make your decisions for you. Living so that at the end of the day, you are not saying "What would have happened if I had tried..." Living so at the end of the day, you know.
3) Dedication. Never missing a game. Never failing to show up. Giving it everything all of the time. If it's true that you get out of something what you put into it, then this is the only way to live. If you're going to do it, then really do it. If you're going to even get out of bed, then live out your day with everything you have.

Next year Favre probably won't be out on the field. The sporting world will continue without him, and will eventually forget him. But I hope that even as time goes on, you can see in me the things I admire most about him.

so this is the new year...

Happy New Year.

2007.

My garduating year. The year of the first endings and the biggest beginnings. Last night when the ball dropped, my friends and I cheered and toasted as tradition requests. But then we were silent, absently watching the confetti and kissing couples in Times Square. Zach said, "2007. We graduate in 2007." I said, "We start college in 2007. I wonder where I'll be." Dave said, "I remember when I was 12, doing the math to see what year I would graduate. And now it's here." Melanie said, "In Romania, my new year will start 7 hours before yours will." We all looked around the room at each other, at the people we've known since elementary school. The people we've walked into school with every year for as many as 8 years. And when next September rolls around, we'll be walking into school without them. We'll be walking into school alone. But of course no one said that. The boys went back to their ping pong game. The girls went back to the watching of the ping pong game and the talking about nothing in particular.
On one hand it's scary. I won't know anyone or anything, I'll have this entirely new world that I have to figure out completely on my own. But then I think about where I'll be in 12 hours. High school. I'm there before the sun is up, and it smells, and I'm surrounded by people that really don't want to be there, and taught by teachers that really don't want to be there, either. I'll have 25 minutes in the cafeteria for lunch, and if I'm late to any of my classes I'll be lectured and handed a detention. On the other hand, I can't wait for the day when I walk out of that place, knowing that I never have to walk back in again.
2007 is a big year for me. I will leave my high school, my friends, my home, and my family for "the real world." I will go from brown-bagging it and living by other people's schedules to running my own life. I go into 2007 playing the child, I go out of 2007 playing the adult. A year of change, and of fear. A year of finding out what I am made of. A year of finally taking on the world for the first time.

It will be very interesting...