In case any of you were a little worried after my "marcid" post - Hi Mom - I thought I'd give you few readers an update.
It was a hard day. For a lot of complicated, boring reasons, I thought I'd screwed up my classes and I wasn't going to qualify to go on my internship and I probably wouldn't graduate on time. It was a hectic couple of days, to say the least. But I had a nice, calming meeting with my adviser - perks of a small university, he knows me well enough to help chill out when I've over thought everything - and everything worked out more than ok. In fact, I'll be taking fewer classes next spring than I'd planned, so my crazy overloaded semester turned into a fairly easy one. The relief was palpable, as you can imagine!
So now I'm faced with the constant conversation:
"Are you getting excited about PRIME?"
"Ah, not exactly."
"Why not?"
"I mean, its a challenging experience. I'll be really out of my comfort zone, and living with people I don't know, away from my friends and family for seven months, all while my friends start our senior year without me."
"Oh yeah, of course. But its s exciting! Meeting new people, living in a big city, being more independent!"
"Yeah, it will be cool."
Of course, not every conversation sounds that way, but many of them follow that vein. As if I'm crazy to not be psyched about this experience. Don't get me wrong! I'm really grateful that my degree has such a cool opportunity to gain experience and make us more hire-able after graduation. It will be a huge time of growth and learning in my life, and I get to do it for college credit. Not every student has this chance.
This blog will probably hold a lot of my thoughts and reflections during PRIME, so it seems best to be honest before I go:
I'm nervous. I'm curious. But I've never been good with change or the unknown, and this might be the biggest unknown yet. Right now, I'm mostly resigned. I need to go. I cognitively know that amazing things will happen in the next seven months of my life. I'm going to grow and mature in ways that I can't even imagine yet. Everyone says PRIME students come back changed. I know it will be good.
But I just can't quite be excited yet. Soon, maybe, but not yet.
alexithymia
n. difficulty describing feelings to other people
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Habseligkeiten
Our last meeting for PRIME happened last night. I'm taking final steps towards housing for the next six months. I dressed like a professional adult this morning with very little effort or stress. I spoke in front of a room of strangers without even a shadow of nerves. I had a conversation with my best friend the other night that revolved around graduate school and the GRE and our separate internship travels.
Today I wore black stud earrings.
Between the ages of 14 and 16 I wore an incredible amount of black. Several pairs of black skinny jeans, a variety of black tee shirts with bright neon patterns, black high top Converse, and a medley of checkered sweatshirts were my school wardrobe. I loved my thick black eye liner and rainbow eye shadows. On Wednesdays, to spite my intensely perky service group leader, I would wear entirely black - and she couldn't even comment (in my mind), because the tee shirt was labeled with our service group's name. I wore layers of jangling necklaces and an array of thick bracelets that came nearly to my elbow. I remember losing one half of a set of small black stud earrings and always hoping that the other would turn up, because they were perfect for me.
I never stopped looking for them. It was a weird, small thing but it became rather important. As I outgrew my heavy makeup and checkered hoodies, those little black earrings continued to elude me. I kept the one, hoping the other would appear. A few weeks ago, I was helping a friend move, and she had a container of earrings she was going to donate. The collection had a few vintage styled pieces that caught my eye, so she gave them to me. Amid the pearls and flowers, I found them.
Plain, black studs.
The excitement was bizarre. My sister and I sat down to divide the collection between us, and those black studs were one of the first that I laid claim on. Today as I got ready for my meeting - dressing for my "grown up Tuesday" as I've started calling it - for once feeling at ease in slacks and flats and a button down, and I looked through my little box of jewelry, they jumped out at me. I wanted those silly black studs. It felt important to wear them today, with my flowered shirt and sensible cardigan.
She's all but gone, 14-year-old Amanda. Her friends are different, her interests have changed, her goals have shifted. But maybe one or two things can remain with 20-year-old Amanda. I always want skinny pants - skinny jeans, skinny corduroys, skinny slacks. I cringe at pink in my wardrobe. I love black nail polish. And I'll wear these black stud earrings.
Because as silly and unnecessarily dark as I was at 14?
I still like her.
And I want her to come with me on these new adventures.
habseligkeiten
n. things an adult may find worthless, but a child regards as treaures
Today I wore black stud earrings.
Between the ages of 14 and 16 I wore an incredible amount of black. Several pairs of black skinny jeans, a variety of black tee shirts with bright neon patterns, black high top Converse, and a medley of checkered sweatshirts were my school wardrobe. I loved my thick black eye liner and rainbow eye shadows. On Wednesdays, to spite my intensely perky service group leader, I would wear entirely black - and she couldn't even comment (in my mind), because the tee shirt was labeled with our service group's name. I wore layers of jangling necklaces and an array of thick bracelets that came nearly to my elbow. I remember losing one half of a set of small black stud earrings and always hoping that the other would turn up, because they were perfect for me.
I never stopped looking for them. It was a weird, small thing but it became rather important. As I outgrew my heavy makeup and checkered hoodies, those little black earrings continued to elude me. I kept the one, hoping the other would appear. A few weeks ago, I was helping a friend move, and she had a container of earrings she was going to donate. The collection had a few vintage styled pieces that caught my eye, so she gave them to me. Amid the pearls and flowers, I found them.
Plain, black studs.
The excitement was bizarre. My sister and I sat down to divide the collection between us, and those black studs were one of the first that I laid claim on. Today as I got ready for my meeting - dressing for my "grown up Tuesday" as I've started calling it - for once feeling at ease in slacks and flats and a button down, and I looked through my little box of jewelry, they jumped out at me. I wanted those silly black studs. It felt important to wear them today, with my flowered shirt and sensible cardigan.
She's all but gone, 14-year-old Amanda. Her friends are different, her interests have changed, her goals have shifted. But maybe one or two things can remain with 20-year-old Amanda. I always want skinny pants - skinny jeans, skinny corduroys, skinny slacks. I cringe at pink in my wardrobe. I love black nail polish. And I'll wear these black stud earrings.
Because as silly and unnecessarily dark as I was at 14?
I still like her.
And I want her to come with me on these new adventures.
habseligkeiten
n. things an adult may find worthless, but a child regards as treaures
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Tristful
I love the way it smells here in the spring because it smells just like the day I moved in.
Spring in NE Indiana means thunderstorms. And especially this spring those thunderstorms are followed by intense, muggy heat. And that combination of heat and sunlight and wet concrete takes me back to freshman move-in day, when my journey here began. Even now, when I walk back into Livingston Hall in the early spring and late summer, it feels like nothing has ever changed. The building smells the same. It has the same shocking transition from muggy outside to chilly inside because our dear L-town has just delightful AC. And for just a moment, I'm that terrified freshman all over again. It takes my breath away sometimes, for just a split second. Then I see a familiar face or remember all that's happened in these walls and I'm ok. I'm not her anymore. I've grown. And I'm certainly not done growing, but this place has left an imprint on me that I will certainly never forget.
tristful
adj. deeply, yet romantically melancholy.
Spring in NE Indiana means thunderstorms. And especially this spring those thunderstorms are followed by intense, muggy heat. And that combination of heat and sunlight and wet concrete takes me back to freshman move-in day, when my journey here began. Even now, when I walk back into Livingston Hall in the early spring and late summer, it feels like nothing has ever changed. The building smells the same. It has the same shocking transition from muggy outside to chilly inside because our dear L-town has just delightful AC. And for just a moment, I'm that terrified freshman all over again. It takes my breath away sometimes, for just a split second. Then I see a familiar face or remember all that's happened in these walls and I'm ok. I'm not her anymore. I've grown. And I'm certainly not done growing, but this place has left an imprint on me that I will certainly never forget.
tristful
adj. deeply, yet romantically melancholy.
Marcid
You've all seen a lot fewer posts from me in the last few years, namely because I started to hate the way my writing looked when I would just start typing and see what came out of me. It was sloppy, rambling, and often uninteresting to anyone except myself.
But I'm going back to that for a moment. Because as much as this is a public space, it is also a personal release valve, and I need that today.
It seemed as though things were finally coming together after almost a year of wandering without a clue of where I was supposed to be heading. I'd started to let old things stay in the past and look for the greatness in the present. I finally found some clarity in my calling, which has been an area of confusion and uncertainty since I was 17. For once, it seemed like I actually didn't have anything to be worried about.
But nothing ever stays stable for long. Today it seems like everything is crashing down around me.
This is likely just a bout of moodiness and unsettling emotions. Nothing has really changed from the feelings of stability I had a month ago and the unease and frustration I feel now. Graduation has continued to loom menacingly over my head. Interning is still terrifying - although today it feels like even going on my internship is questionable. My friends are still wonderful and stressful and comforting and insane all at the same time. I still love this floor and the chance to be a part of their lives. I still feel more assurance about my future career than I have at any other point in my short life.
Maybe its because at this point a year ago? I also thought I had everything finally figured out. I was finding my way, standing my ground, looking toward my future - and then it all slipped out from under me again.
Am I just dreading that? The feeling that nothing stable ever seems to last?
Even that is an exaggeration. I have a family who has been rock solid and supportive in every venture. I have so many caring and committed relationships that thinking of them all brings me to tears. I know that amid everything, I am the child of an indescribable God who will walk through the hard parts with me.
Yet I am still afraid. Everything will fade, everything will change, everything will fall apart, and I will be left searching and unsure again.
There is no conclusion. No bright spot of courageous hope. Logically, cognitively, I know, everything will be fine. But today. I am just afraid.
marcid
adj. withered; incredibly exhausted.
But I'm going back to that for a moment. Because as much as this is a public space, it is also a personal release valve, and I need that today.
It seemed as though things were finally coming together after almost a year of wandering without a clue of where I was supposed to be heading. I'd started to let old things stay in the past and look for the greatness in the present. I finally found some clarity in my calling, which has been an area of confusion and uncertainty since I was 17. For once, it seemed like I actually didn't have anything to be worried about.
But nothing ever stays stable for long. Today it seems like everything is crashing down around me.
This is likely just a bout of moodiness and unsettling emotions. Nothing has really changed from the feelings of stability I had a month ago and the unease and frustration I feel now. Graduation has continued to loom menacingly over my head. Interning is still terrifying - although today it feels like even going on my internship is questionable. My friends are still wonderful and stressful and comforting and insane all at the same time. I still love this floor and the chance to be a part of their lives. I still feel more assurance about my future career than I have at any other point in my short life.
Maybe its because at this point a year ago? I also thought I had everything finally figured out. I was finding my way, standing my ground, looking toward my future - and then it all slipped out from under me again.
Am I just dreading that? The feeling that nothing stable ever seems to last?
Even that is an exaggeration. I have a family who has been rock solid and supportive in every venture. I have so many caring and committed relationships that thinking of them all brings me to tears. I know that amid everything, I am the child of an indescribable God who will walk through the hard parts with me.
Yet I am still afraid. Everything will fade, everything will change, everything will fall apart, and I will be left searching and unsure again.
There is no conclusion. No bright spot of courageous hope. Logically, cognitively, I know, everything will be fine. But today. I am just afraid.
marcid
adj. withered; incredibly exhausted.
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Trouvaille
I never knew how much I would love this place.
As a junior, my favorite place on campus has become this little circle of squat chairs in the library that faces a span of windows overlooking the main street of campus. I can see most of the dorms, as well as the entrance to the Hub, and on gorgeous days like today it almost makes being stuck inside worth it, because I can feel the life of campus around me anyway. People doing homework in the grass, groups of guys heading out for disc golf or urban golf, couples taking walks, friends having a late lunch or a cup of coffee on the picnic tables, admissions staff buzzing by on their golf carts, athletes on their way to practice. I find myself reflecting on our little campus (instead of writing my paper due at nine am). It's not expansive. It's not grand. But in the winter it looks magical (at least until we're sick to death of the snow). In the fall its exquisitely golden. And in the spring, I swear its one of the freshest and most beautiful places on earth.
Even though my time here isn't quite gone yet, I can feel the nostalgia already. This is small but beautiful place where incredible things have happened, and I can't imagine ever being ready to leave it.
But as much as I love the beauty of the scene, I know most of the attachment is born not of picturesque landscapes, but of the love and joy I've found here. And when I leave, so do a good number of the hearts and minds that walked this journey with me. We won't have left a mark on the scene, but we will have made a difference. The halls we lived in have a different atmosphere than when we came, because we affected the community. The faculty will remember some of us, even if only in exceptional papers or the memory of a certain class.
Two years from now I'll be gone. Someone else will have chosen this spot, this ring of squished looking chairs, for their study spot. They will probably choose it for the same reasons I did - the wide chairs, access to power outlets, and the view of campus. Maybe they'll love watching the life of campus around them as much as I do. And they won't even know I've been here.
But this place will still be here. Still changing people. And that's better than me being remembered.
trouvaille
n. something lovely discovered by chance; a windfall
As a junior, my favorite place on campus has become this little circle of squat chairs in the library that faces a span of windows overlooking the main street of campus. I can see most of the dorms, as well as the entrance to the Hub, and on gorgeous days like today it almost makes being stuck inside worth it, because I can feel the life of campus around me anyway. People doing homework in the grass, groups of guys heading out for disc golf or urban golf, couples taking walks, friends having a late lunch or a cup of coffee on the picnic tables, admissions staff buzzing by on their golf carts, athletes on their way to practice. I find myself reflecting on our little campus (instead of writing my paper due at nine am). It's not expansive. It's not grand. But in the winter it looks magical (at least until we're sick to death of the snow). In the fall its exquisitely golden. And in the spring, I swear its one of the freshest and most beautiful places on earth.
Even though my time here isn't quite gone yet, I can feel the nostalgia already. This is small but beautiful place where incredible things have happened, and I can't imagine ever being ready to leave it.
But as much as I love the beauty of the scene, I know most of the attachment is born not of picturesque landscapes, but of the love and joy I've found here. And when I leave, so do a good number of the hearts and minds that walked this journey with me. We won't have left a mark on the scene, but we will have made a difference. The halls we lived in have a different atmosphere than when we came, because we affected the community. The faculty will remember some of us, even if only in exceptional papers or the memory of a certain class.
Two years from now I'll be gone. Someone else will have chosen this spot, this ring of squished looking chairs, for their study spot. They will probably choose it for the same reasons I did - the wide chairs, access to power outlets, and the view of campus. Maybe they'll love watching the life of campus around them as much as I do. And they won't even know I've been here.
But this place will still be here. Still changing people. And that's better than me being remembered.
trouvaille
n. something lovely discovered by chance; a windfall
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