Ignore the Raving Insomniac

I want to disappear to a world where I'm not stuffed in a 12 by 14 cell. A world where I don't have to share a bathroom with sixty billion other people. A world where I can't hear people having sex inches away from my head. A world where bottles and cans recycle themselves, where I don't have to choose between clean clothes or dinner that night, where the shades are always up and the curtains are always parted. The sun is always shining and there are never spooky things in the woods. There are no research papers, no theses to invent. Huckleberry Finn is forever floating down the Mississippi with Jim and we never have to have a classroom discussion on the matter.

Someone stole one of my spoons. I have four normal sized spoons and four soup spoons, and now I have three normal sized spoons.

I had a lovely day of shopping and running between the rain drops, but I think it's pretty clear that I've been cooped up for too long. But it's 1 am... and I've no one to go for a walk with me because campus is dead right now. If I still smoked I could just go for a walk with my cigarettes and my thoughts and no one would think I was crazy for walking around in the middle of the night by my lonesomes.

All they play on television at this hour are commercials for hippie music, but they never play the whole song, which is upsetting.

College makes me an insomniac. I really like Carly Simon.

The Long and Winding Road

I don't recall my first two weeks of freshmen year, simply because I was in a perpetually inebriated state. I killed a lot of brain cells freshmen year, and made many a poor decision. But I managed to never get in trouble (in the sense that I was never caught) and never had to go to the hospital (unlike many of my friends). I watched one of my friends bash her head against the porceline tiles in the bathroom one night after drinking 12 shots of vodka, completely black out drunk, eyes rolling in the back of her head. It was probably the scariest night of my life and except for a few slip ups I was basically on the straight and narrow after that.

I came back to my room one night with my girlfriend last year when my roommate was sleeping and my girlfriend proceeded to scream at me about what a drunk I was, how I was always drunk etc. etc. Which, of course, wasn't true. I play a sport, go to class and manage to be a functional human being. My roommate overheard the "conversation" (i.e. me being screamed at) and bolted up and consoled me after I told the chick to get lost. Bless her heart, she reminds me on any occasion she can that I had some trouble last year, but she (my ex girlfriend) was completely incorrect in saying that I was an alcoholic. I'm not an alcoholic and I never will be. Too many family members of mine have been alcoholics and have, more often then not, died because of their alcoholism. That's not for me, and I can honestly say that I have very little interest in alcohol. I'm way too busy with the 1,000,001 things going on in my life to have the ability to get sloshed with my friends every night.

So when my friend told me about how drunk she got last night, and how she hates herself because she can't have a good time without getting drunk, it really broke my heart. She needs to get help, but she doesn't go to this school anymore and I can't physically take her to health services to get counseling. I can only suggest to her that she get help before it's too late. But she won't, because she is too stubborn and she doesn't recognize how big of a problem this is becoming for her. My idea of a good time has changed a lot from last year, but clearly her's hasn't. It's only become more of a shit show for her, and that's not okay. I can't stand to watch her hurting herself the way that she is. I just want to cut her out, to forget she is one of my best friends, so I don't have to deal with this anymore. I can't be a freshman anymore, I can't drink like that anymore or think that drinking is the be all end all.

Since freshman year I've quit smoking, I've cut down on drinking a lot, I've started taking my school work a lot more seriously. I want to learn, to grow, to help people, to save the world. You can't do those things when you've got a monkey on your back. I won't abandon my friend, because I love her and she needs support, but I just hope she can throw her monkey off before it is too late.

I'm An American Too

I've had a few hours between what happened earlier today and the present that I feel I have enough mental clarity on the issue so as to write about it. It started off as an average Thursday, went to class at 9:30, went to my next class at 11:00, sat through class, had peanut lovers chex mix for breakfast/lunch, and went back to class for lab.

So we're sitting there, shooting the shit getting ready for class to start. Then this kid comes in and starts handing out flyers on the presidential candidates with information about them. So everyone is reading the flyers and not working on the assignment (because it's lab and no one really cares, after all it's only our grade and our most crucial class as psychology majors) and we all get to having a political debate. I, unbeknownst to me, have been sitting in the Republican/too moderate to care/apathetic section of the room. I'll explain.

This guy from the front of the class went to the table behind me and was talking to my friends at the table, telling them all about the wonders of John McCain and what an ass Barack Obama is. I was pretty fed up with the conversation so I tuned out until he said something along the lines of "I don't know why anyone would vote for Barack Obama," which set me off. I couldn't not say anything anymore so I turned around and told him that I was voting for Barack Obama, because besides the fact that the things he takes issue with are the things I believe in, he has never publicly said that he does not want me to be able to have a family some day. John McCain has PUBLICLY said he believes gay people shouldn't be allowed to adopt children, to raise children, to be parents. I told this kid who was running his mouth that I was voting for the candidate who I feel stands the best chance of providing me with a secure future where I can marry whomever I choose and have a family.

To which this student replied "Then move to Canada."

To which I started screaming at him.

To which all of my friends started screaming at him and demanding that he apologise.

To which he said he didn't mean it that way.

To which I responded that I am as much an American as he is and that just because I am gay doesn't make me any less of an American, and certainly does not mean I should have to abandon MY COUNTRY simply because of something I have absolutely no control over.

He started laughing uncomfortably, because everyone was yelling at him and demanding that he apologise, so he did apologise and that was that.

But it still hurts. How day he say that to me, that I should have to leave my homeland simply because I'm gay and my rights aren't acknowledged in this country? I should have to leave. America doesn't want me here. Well I'm AS MUCH IF NOT MORE of an American as that jackass has ever been or will ever be. I love this country, I would die for this country and for freedom. I love Canada, and I am Canadian, but I was born and raised in this country.

Just because I am openly gay, does that mean I have effectively renounced my citizenship? I'm a pacifist and I don't believe that violence solves anything, but I had such a strong desire to jump across the desk and ring his neck. If I could go back and do it again I probably would hit him so hard. I don't know if I'm angrier that he effectively told me that I am less of an American than his pompous ass just because I'm gay, or the fact that I don't think I've ever wanted to physically hurt someone so much and he caused that anger in me. How dare he. How dare he.

To The Stars

The best part of living in the sticks: you never want for stars.

I drove back to campus with my sunroof open, my windows rolled down, and the stars lighting my way home.

It was very nice to see my niece and nephew tonight. For the better part of the evening I had one on each arm, curled up next to me in a chair watching a movie. I do love them a lot, and I want them to have the best lives they possibly can.

My sister's mother (she's my half sister) made me a necklace with a rainbow bead (she makes beads out of glass, they're very very cool). Considering she only found out that I'm gay at most a week ago, I am impressed at how expeditiously she works. And also very touched that she thought of me to make a bead.

I'm very pleased with the way things turned out. No one cares, which is exactly what I wanted to happen. Things with the madre are very good, better than when she didn't know. Things are just normal, which is so so so nice.

It's 10:30 and I am passing out after the longest day evah.

The Goings On of the World of Rachel

I start making money is just under 20 minutes! This is my only break of the day... I'll be back at 9 to weep over text books and possibly through in a Disney movie to make me feel better about the chaos of my life. But I'm having fun and leeeaarrning.

Anywho, so I'm starting a gsa here at good old *my college* basically singlehandedly. The assistant director of student activities send out a mass email to all undergraduates telling all interested students to please contact me. It basically said "If you're interested in being a part of the gay-straight alliance on campus please contact Rachel *lastname*." I came back to my room last night to my roommate in a fit of giggles over how I had been outed to the entire campus, and some mortification from my other friends who thought I might have been offended by this. I don't mind, in fact I asked her to send out that email because we need interested people. I only know so many people, many of whom are not interested in this club for various reasons, and because I don't know everyone I don't know who is and who is not interested. So far I've gotten four responses from people I don't know, and more than 10 from my friends (I love them all dearly because they are mostly joining the club to support me, which gives me the warm fuzzies).

I have to head to work now but I am oh so very excited about the gsa. I just need to come up with activities/events that will be fun and all enclusive. We can't have a big gay get-together because then 3 people would show up, not including all my straight friends who would go to support me (bless their hearts).

And I'm excited about making money and babysitting the children tonight. Ack my life is crazy, but fantastic!

Things That Go Bump in the Night

I was semi conscious last night (while "visions of research methods danced in their heads") lying in bed, listening to the forest outside. I literally live in the forest. I lived in the forest last year too, but this year my room faces a completely different "forest" (no lie, like a Bambiesque forest). Let me interject for a moment and say we were playing lacrosse one day last spring, and it was the end of practice and we were getting the goals and stuff and a dear, a bigass dear, wandered out onto the field and started grazing, like it was no big thing. We thought it was really cool, in any event.

So I was listening to the sounds of the night and staring at the ceiling for hours because I had about sixteen diet cokes a few hours previous and I had the jitters from all that caffeine. As I was laying there I had a flashback to spring semester of last year, in the wee hours of the morning, when most college students are in bed or on their way there.

I recalled something that happened around the same hour last year, across campus in my old building. So there I was, 4 in the morning, typing away at a Russian paper (full of Tolstoy of Dostoevsky and Chekov and all those guys) that had been assigned on the first day of class at the beginning of the semester, and it was now the last day of class, and I still had 10 pages to write. Lesson learned. Anyhow my friend was upstairs working on the same exact paper, diligently on his computer.

My roommate was sawing ZzZs in her bed behind me while I was furiously bullshitting left and right.

All of a sudden I heard the most horrifying sound I have ever heard in my life. Imagine, if you will, hearing a baby being mauled by any ferocious animal you can imagine. That was the noise I heard. Maybe not even A baby. More like an army of babies. And there I was, in my room, while the army of babies was outside in the forest right outside my window (on the first floor) being slaughtered. I quickly got a hold of my friend on the aim and asked him if he heard that noise, and went over the shake my roommate and see if she heard it too. My roommate was sound asleep and heard nothing, but my friend upstairs said he heard it, and he never wanted to talk about it again. And we don't talk about it because it was so awful. I assume it was raccoons, but I'm ruther glad it wasn't just my imagination on overdrive. It was THE worst sound ever.

I can't motivate myself to do any homework right now. I very literally feel like all I ever do is go to class, come back here, do homework, squeeze some sleep in, wake up, go to class, repeat repeat repeat.

And I start my new job as a writing tutor tomorrow afternoon. And half an hour after I'm done with that, I get to go watch the niece and nephew for a few hours. I don't know how I'm going to manage to do homework for Thursday, but honestly I don't care.

I miss freshmen year when I was just an English major, and I could sit on the windowsill and play my mandolin and drink orange soda all day and no one would care or tell me to do any work. Now I'm so bogged down up to my eyeballs I don't know what I'm going to do. And I'm not even in over my head yet, I'm keeping up with everything but there is just so much. I need like 18 arms and 50 bagillion brains! I feel so stupid for getting myself into this mess. I love psychology, and I want very badly to get a degree in psychology and be on my way to grad school, but English is my passion. I really love literary criticism (cause I'm lame like that) and creative writing. But being an honors student, and a musician and playing lacrosse and being in 80 thousand clubs and STARTING a club from scratch all by myself and being an aunt and a sister and a daughter and a friend and a college student. There is no time left for me to just be Rachel. I think that's why I love blogging so much and I find it's very therapeutic. I'm just Rachel here.

If you'll excuse me, I have to read about prenatal development now *gag*.

What is Real?

It's 12:30, still doing homework, but passing out soon enough.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

I love the Velveteen Rabbit somethin fierce.

John McCain the Magic Eraser

I've been mulling over my thoughts on John McCain for a while now, and I think I finally put my finger on why he rubs me the wrong way (besides the fact that he is, ya know, a Republican).

He looks like Mr. Clean.

Which is just too weird for me. Now whenever I see him on the television or on the interwebz I will think of Mr. Clean.

Although I do kind of wish John McCain would get his ear pierced like Mr. Clean, I'm not hopeful. I wonder if anyone else has noticed this eerie resemblance?

And So It Goes

Apparently she called 2ish hours ago (it's 11:30 now) and I missed the call, but she left a message. She said something along the lines of she is neither shocked nor surprised, but she would like to have this conversation face to face.

She assured me that she loves me, several times.

She also wondered if, and I quote, I wasn't "mistaken" and if I hadn't "sought counseling for this issue."

Which makes me laugh because I would need counseling if I wasn't out. I might need counseling if my mother can't accept me (which I think she will), but probably not, because I don't need her approval, I just need for her to know.

So now she knows.

And life goes on.

This is Crazy

Sent it before I left at 5:30

It is now 9:06... oh seven... oh eight... oh nine...

Called her to tell her I was back safe and sound, traffic was a nightmare, but the drive was easy enough for the 1,000,001 time.

She was getting ready to settle in for the night. I told her to check her email. She said she would.

She checked it.

And I haven't heard from her yet. She didn't email me back, or call me, or IM me, or text me. She hasn't showed up at my door either.

Should I not be freaking out? Cause I'm not freaking out... but I am. If I don't hear from her before I go to sleep tonight, I will be on edge all night and all day tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do. It's an inconvenient time for her to find out, but there is no convenient time for me to tell her, or for her to hear it. We both have busy lives and dozens of things happening at once. Now she knows and that's that. I just want her to respond to me, in some way, soon. Just talk to me.

At this point I don't regret it, but I see myself regretting telling her in the very near future.

Why?

My mom's boss moved to CT with her family a few days ago, to a house nearby actually, which is nice because she doesn't know anybody around here, her whole family lives out west and so we can be a kind of surrogate family for her, her husband and her two little kids. They came to visit today, it was the first time I was meeting any of them, and it was a very good time.

It was nice being with the kids today, they're 5 and 4 I believe. The little girl, who is five, explained to me that they moved to this country from another country (she meant state, but it was adorable).

We were playing with licoln logs on the patio in the sunlight this afternoon, and there were a bunch of mosquitos. I shooed a mosquito away from her face and she said "Why would God make mosquitos?"

It was probably the most profound thing I've ever heard from a five year old, or from any person for that matter. I don't know why God made mosquitos, all I know is they are annoying and have to be tolerated, because God did make them, just like S/He made everything.

I don't know why God made mosquitos.