Void

Everybody's looking for something.

This was originally said by the Eurhythmics, but hey, it's applicable to life. I feel that, personally, my subconscious quest lately has been to fill the holes in my life as I notice them, sometimes even before. Let me explain.

I miss my friends from home, so I'm growing closer to my friends at school. I suppose this is the most natural and fitting of them all, but it still is a replacement of something with something different, so it was worth mentioning, if only to start.

I also, and I'm hesitant to say this, miss the presence of a guy in my life. I figured out that drunken Friday nights lead me to be lonely. I've never been at a loss for male attention (not to be conceited), and so it's relatively strange to me to be in an environment where I haven't been on a date in a solid six months, with the exception of one date that I got friendzoned on. Joy. But the fact of the matter is that this is the longest that I've been single in the past three years. Three years. That's a long time, and I think for the personal development of me here at school, it's overall been a positive thing. It was just a long step from high school to Fratland. Where the guy(s) you make out with on the weekend don't think to call or text you, except to booty call you again. And if they do, they aren't the type of guys you want to be in a relationship with, long term. Let's be honest: the real thing I miss here is cuddling. Someone to listen to my problems unconditionally, and to give me a hug and a kiss whenever I need one. The fact of the matter is that when I was going through many of the most difficult points in my life, I had a boyfriend to fall back on when I needed. This sounds completely horrible, and that I'm a bitch who uses guys, but their support through my tough times was really a blessing and a joy. Even my best guy friends provided invaluable support to me back home. And I miss having a circle of close guy friends around me.

I guess it's also a very stressful time in my academia, and the season has never been a positive one for me in terms of mental health. Oh well. It'll be spring break soon, and then at least I'll get a break from all of this.

The Limitless is Becoming Limited

I'm at a point in my life where my boundless sense of possibility has not yet been destroyed by the demands and realities of life, but where I realize that it's soon going to be.

I go through my life thinking that I can do any number of things. I've considered being a triple major at Berkeley, for goodness sakes. You and I both know that there's no way that I'm going to do this, but it's still incredibly amazing to be able to look at my future and not see a set of constraints. In my optimistic imagination, I'm still limitless. There is nothing in my life that's telling me that I can't do the things I want to do.

But there's a large part of me that knows that life isn't like that. That I have to pick what I want to specialize in now, and then live my life out as a means to an end. That doesn't sit that well with me, because I can't imagine a time in my life where I'll be tied down. Part of the reason I'm planning on going to so much graduate school is because I can't imagine not being in an environment where I'm learning new information daily, and have the opportunity of a lifetime ahead of me.

It's actually rather depressing, knowing that now, at eighteen, my life's possibilities will simply decline as time passes.

Sex Pt. 2

I was watching the Breakfast Club last night and it got me thinking. Why do so many people use sex as a weapon?

Sex is probably the most personal thing that two people can do together, and society treats it as a huge power trip. First of all, everyone is judged as to whether or not they have ever had sex. Many men are looked down on for being virgins, while women are celebrated for being virgins. However, the judgement doesn't end here. Then, it becomes all about the circumstances surrounding the sex: I overheard one of my friends say, in a very condescending tone, "yeah but I've only had sex when I loved someone. It's different." Literally what the fuck? You have zero right to judge anyone else based on how she prefers to have sex. Then, people are judged on the number of people that they've had sex with. Then, they're judged on how good they are in bed. This is just the beginning of the list, by the way.

Seriously? What the actual fuck is going on here? Using this post to judge is highly hypocritical, but I think that people shouldn't judge other people on the amount of sex they are having in their lives, and in what capacity. End of story.

I have friends in every position. Some have drunkenly lost their virginity to strangers. Some want to wait until they're married. One of my best friends had her virginity taken when she was blacked out, aka rape. One girl I talked to about the matter said that she lost her virginity to her best friend, and it was one of the best decisions she ever made.

Personally, as the author of this, I don't think it matters that I tell you about myself, but I will anyways, for those of you that care. I'm a sexual person, but I'm a virgin. Some of my best friends have doubted the fact, and I've had to seriously convince one person in particular that I haven't ever slept with anyone. I think that sexuality is an aspect of a relationship that is important, and also completely up to the two people in that relationship. Everybody's sex isn't anybody's business but theirs, and the person they're having sex with. If that other person is their right hand, then all power to them.

I just don't understand what the big fuss is about sex. Everybody's entitled to their own choices, and everybody has the right to be unjudged by those around them. Thanks for listening to my two cents.

Overpacking

I'm notoriously bad at riding public transit, traveling, and getting around in general. Not that I'm late, although that does happen sometimes. Also not because I get lost or anything like that, because I can generally figure out where I'm going and not look like a complete tourist while doing so. I can transfer from busses to trains to other trains without too mug stress, but there is one problem I always seem to have, and that's that I consistently overpack. There really isn't a time where I don't. Now, some of you may argue that if this is my biggest problem taking public transit, then I'm doing okay. And you'd be correct in saying that! But let me just give you an example of what I'm talking about. Today, as we speak, I'm on a train to see my friend who lives a little bit away. It's a trip solely for pleasure, but it's bookended by essentially a two hour commute either way. I had to take a bus, a train, then transfer to another train and he's going I meet me at that platform (I did actually buy the wrong ticket for the second train but that's really beside the point). When I was preparing for this trip, I figured I might as well bring something to do on the train. I have a math final on Thursday, so I figured I would bring my notes. Simple, right? No. I ended up bringing three notebooks and a folder (since apparently my notes are just that scattered, and I have my friend's notes as well), as well as Plato's Republic. Which no, I don't even need to read. Have I looked at any of this once since I started on my journey at 8 am? No. I've played Flight Controller on my iPod.

I Can't Sing Anymore

I wish I were kidding. Singing is my number-one favorite thing to do, and I can't do it anymore. I lose my voice too much since I came to Berkeley, I've been half-sick for the past three months, and every single person I run into asks if my voice has changed. Which I didn't think it had but I guess I was wrong. Turns out, I can't sing anymore because my voice is 100% kaput.

I'd like to think that I was good at it at some point, but I just watched two YouTube videos and I can tell you that I cringed. Pitchy vowels all over the Star Spangled Banner, whiny tone, got it all. Literally so bad. But then again I'm the most critical of myself, so what can I say?

I haven't completely abandoned. I just wish that I was able to sing and didn't lose my voice so much.

Cali Girl at Heart

Okay, it's official.

I hate everything that being at home means. I thought that it was just a slight feeling, because that's all it was in California. But when I came home? Everything came crashing down around me. I thought that the break from school would rejuvenate me and make me appreciate both home and school life more, but I was completely wrong. I should have known from the moment I started spilling tears in the airport, but apparently that was too large of a realization for me to make. I guess I always thought that I should want to go back, because all of my friends at school wanted to go back, and all my friends at home wanted to see me. I thought I should feel some obligation to reminisce about the people and the place that I spent eighteen years of my life with.

Turns out that obligatory feelings are not at all valid, especially to me in this situation. I feel like a caged animal in this hellhole that's supposed to be my home. My family was visiting for a while, meaning there were constantly seven people in my house, with two satellite family friends always there that brought the total to nine. It was utterly stifling. I didn't even have the solitude of my room, and I was trying to see everyone that still wanted to see me. This was stressful and oddly emptying. It also manifested in a few things.

I want to get back to California more than ever. I want my friends there, my life there, my mentality there.

My mother is the bane of my existence at this point. She doesn't understand me, and because of that I can be unfair to her, I know that. But it's really hard when I'm in such a bad mood all the time that I'm home.

I think that my locality caused me to be unhappy for so many years. I can't stand it now, after being happy for so long, and I can't imagine how I lasted for so long in it without a break.

I have no idea what I'm going to show my friends from California when they come here. I have next to nothing here that makes me happy, and so how I can show them things here that are supposed to enrich their lives is utterly beyond me.

I need to move on mentally. Everything here is just dragging me down and I don't know how much longer I can deal with the psychological weight of the past on me. I was able to cast it off while at college because I was in a new setting. But every time I speak to someone here, I'm reminded of the fact that I left everything behind here for a reason. Because all the same things that I don't want keep being brought up. Every. Fucking. Conversation. I need to get out of here, and I mean for good. I can't have some ghosts of my past wandering around every single time I come home. I can't do it. I'm trapped here and I wouldn't be complaining except for the fact that I know so, so much better.

I need to truly and genuinely thank every single person that got me out of this place. Three months ago, I didn't know how large of thanks they truly deserved, and so I couldn't adequately thank them. But I can now, because I went away and I realized that I am never coming back.

My dad's thankful for the time that he's spending with me, and is handling the whole situation with poise and grace. My mom, on the other hand, is trying to buy my love. Which is so sad. My sister is spending all the time with me that she can, but she's grateful to have me home and she's also independent. My family friend who's like my sister is simply as desperate for attention as she always was, no shock there.

I just want to be home. To my real home. In California. Where there's potential for me in every respect of my life. Love, academia, friendships, future potential, I can't end the list. Take me back to Berkeley.

This is Different.

In my life up until now, I really was never one to go on dates. I dated lots of guys, but usually we just casually hung out and then they asked me out as their girlfriend, then we went on dates. My past boyfriend didn't even take me on a proper date until like three months in. It just wasn't how we did things. But that all changed this weekend, when this sophomore asked me out. Let's call him S.

S messaged me on Facebook, telling me he really enjoyed hanging out with me over the last few weeks at my sorority's brunch (he also spent half an hour trying to find me at our date night because he wanted to say hello), and that we should go for coffee sometime. Major freakouts ensued. This was Friday night and I've been texting him ever since, pretty much all weekend. He's hilarious, attractive, a high school theater and show choir dork, taller than me, and can dance. So basically I'm already hooked. He's on YouTube, for christsake, dancing to Usher. Come ON. So now I'm sitting in Sociology class (don't even get me started on it) after being woken up at 8:30 in the fucking morning because someone decided to saw our hallway in half to fix the fire alarm system. I got mad, so I channeled my anger/nerves into laundry and dishes. Then I got pretty. How domestic of me.

The date is exactly an hour from now and I cannot believe how nervous I am. It's just coffee. Just coffee. I can do this, I've had coffee with tons of friends before. But for some reason, I'm nervous out of my mind. Because I feel like S is just too much of a catch for me. He's perfect in my mind, and that's making me so nervous because I'm all over the place. What. I'm making myself sick to my stomach, and that only happened once before, on a math test.