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| Suddenly, I'm excited for college. Previously I just couldn't wait to get out of high school, but now there's something true, concrete, something real to look forward to. Somehow I just never really realized where I'd be going to college, but I'm fairly certain...I'll give it 95%....that I'm going to Northwestern, and that truly makes me very happy. I've loved the campus since I went to visit there to get my freak-of-nature bunny, I've loved the sound of it, the academic nature, just the thought, and purple really is a nice color, I have definitely grown quite fond of it in the last several years (especially since that's what color I painted my room two summers ago). My only qualm, is that Northwestern somehow doesn't have Russian...? But I'm going to look into that further just to reassure myself. Regardless, I'm very happy because it's perfect. It suits my needs in every way possible with the perfect distance from home and I'm not afraid of being mugged or gang raped like I still foolishly imagine at UIC.
It's just very nice to finally see it as a definite future, especially one I'd be so perfectly content with.
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| So Xanga has definitely been revamped and completely modified (which is a word I just spelled wrong and couldn't figure out how). I remember when Xanga was the "thing" and when it kind of meant more. I think I always liked the social aspect of it and getting to see the insights of other people and sharing my own. Besides that, writing is such a phenomenal form of expression. I would say that there's 6% of emotions and feelings that words can't represent (margin of error +/- 5 percentage points), but for the majority of circumstances, language is a miracle to society.
I have always wanted to consistently keep a journal. In seventh grade I did, and I'm really proud of myself for that. But now, seventh grade was five years ago and such trivial accomplishments merit only so much pride. I wrote a lot of things I can't believe I even thought more or less had the guts to write in full knowledge that it could be read by anyone at some point.
That's another thing. I'm afraid of leaving betraying thoughts from particular moments that I won't be able to hide when I die; but maybe that's a good thing. It really bothers me when I read a really good book that ends in an uncompromising way and I want to know what the author intended for the character but I have no way of knowing the truth. (Edit which I'm adding after rereading my writing: The fact that I wrote "when I die" didn't even seem morbid when I wrote it and I had no second thoughts to reassure anything at the moment. It really didn't phase me which is how it should be interpreted. This isn't a suicide note, calm down...geez  )
But I write every now and then. What holds me back most times is that there are so many aspects of life to write about and it really makes my hand hurt--I have been out of season for five years... Then I tell myself I could type it but that just isn't satisfying. Looking back and seeing handwriting displays so much more emotion and the urgency felt in the situation or the despair in tear drops smearing the ink or soft changes of personality in penmanship. It all adds together and says almost as much as the words themselves. So there is the conflict of my journal-writing life. But I love the sound of keyboards; it's particularly satisfying, especially with good keyboards which I won't even try to characterize because you just have to know what I mean. It can't be learned through anything but experience.
Finally I have come to a solution though it is nowhere near conclusive in putting this conflict to rest. I was watching You've Got Mail, which I've seen an obscurely numerous amount of times, but today I found something I never really noticed. It was the typewriter. There's no saving the file to be opened and found or hacked by anyone, but there's also no revealing handwriting. It's a true compromise. The problem now is that I don't have a typewriter.
Writing is interesting and quite fulfilling. Words truly are a miracle. My entire life I've written little stories which in retrospect are inconsequential and honestly quite embarrassing but at least I know where I've come from. Just how a before-after picture on a home makeover show provides the true impact of what has been done, I want to see the changes in my life and the special moments I think I'll always remember but inevitably forget anyway in my journals.
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| I can't believe we're seniors now. I can't believe marching band is almost over. It's nothing like last year at all....it's incredible.
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| The countdown is definitely over and I can finally count down to bigger, better, more important things...
LIKE HARRY POTTER!
OMFG. This is the summer I've been waiting for for what seems like forever. I've longed for it, and it's funny but the moment I was free at home at about 12 on friday, I became more stressed than I had been in the last two weeks of school.
It's ridiculous, but I'm glad that school is over. I ended on really good terms and I'm actually proud of myself for my accomplishments second semester.
In other news my credit/debit card is now activated and i received my super cute Winnie the Pooh checks today :D
Yesss, freedom :D
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| Seniors underground shirts...there's two of them right now
http://www.lostcauseclothingco.com/seniors/
I have no clue what's up with this theme and the logo's and t-shirt sayings and whatnot. I'm sad we're not "to infinity and beyond" though.
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