Day 005

It crosses my mind on a regular basis to run away. I know it's probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but there it is. When people are feeling wistful, they say I have wanderlust. When people are upset with me, they say I'm running away. I often tell myself that if shit just fell apart (again), I'd drop everything, go somewhere completely new, and start over. Start myself over. One place I'd run away to would be some coastal village in Ireland. I could also go for a coastal village in Maine. Don't ask why, since I think overall I fare better in big cities, but the pull of coastal villages is strong in me. As long as they have internet, anyway. There is something incredibly romantic and soothing about living by the sea. I really like the ocean, but if I ever say that to anyone, they assume I like tropical beaches and suntans and palm trees and shit, which is not the case. "The sea" is so much more whimsical sounding, and fits what I like about it much better. I also want to live in a community where people actually know me, and come over to hang out, and have a communal place to meet up at. That can be had in cities, too, of course. Just without all the pressures of a city, I guess. And Ireland, with its intense greens and blacks, the devastatingly beautiful cliffs, the lilting accents and lovely folklore, who wouldn't want to live there? I've never been there, and don't really know anything about it. Maybe Ardmore, or Doolin. I'll have to look into it. Too bad Wikipedia doesn't tell me if there's decent internet in those places. I am made for living in jeans, tall boots, and thick sweaters. I am made for holding hot mugs with both hands and sitting by a fire. I am made for windswept hair and rosy cheeks, for parties that aren't of the frat variety. I am made for closeness and sentiment and love and fun. Bah! How did I ever get born in Southern California?

Since the global economy is in the shitter, I would need to be able to support myself somehow without actually relying on the local businesses. Writing is the first thing that comes to mind, but then that opens a whole new can of worms that has caused me to lose sleep hundreds of nights. Writing to support myself means having enough discipline to write, write some more, then polish, then polish some more, then keep writing. I like doing it but I have no schedule and never have. When I force myself to, nothing comes out. I get anxious over it all the time.

I wanted to start a "run away" fund for myself but I don't know how any future potential offspring may feel about that if they ever found out about it. I mean, if I had kids my ideas about running away would change. If I included them, I think their dad would yell "kidnapping." If I didn't include them, which I could never do but for the sake of discussion, that'd be abandonment. I think maybe this is one of the big problems I still have to overcome before I have children. I want to travel so much...

Day 003

I took the final for my math class last night. I think I did moderately well, but I hope I did well enough to garner a B in the class overall. I don't know what hallucinogenic substance I was on, thinking I would get all As always. I suppose it's from the lifelong expectation for me to excel in academics from my family. I've trampled all over my pretty grades for at least a decade now, though, and they still expect a gleaming 4.0. Ah, well. It's biting me in the ass now that I want to go to a real university. The only school I've even considered applying to is UC Berkeley. I don't want to be in shithole Southern California, and none of the other UCs up north are appealing. R has been bugging me to widen my options and consider other schools, particularly some in the north east. A perfect example of the bewildering expectations everyone has of me. I am of average intelligence, I think, and with the sullied state of aforementioned grades, my chances of getting into an Ivy League institution are basically nil. I try to explain to R and others that this confidence in me is grossly misplaced, but they all just shrug me off. Anyway, I decided I'd apply to Trinity College of Dublin (yes in Ireland, someone asked me earlier which Dublin I meant, for christ's sake) and Lund University in Sweden. I doubt I'll get into either of those schools, either, but I figure I might as well try to keep the masses off my back. I sent some emails earlier and I think the time for applications starts about a month or so from now. I have no idea how to apply to a school, so we'll see how that goes.

I started reading a Nora Roberts novel this evening. I wanted to read fluff that made me giddy and at first picked a fantasy novel written for teen girls, but it turns out it was in Spanish. My Spanish reading comprehension is unfortunately not up to snuff for that, so I had to find something else. Romantic Irish fantasy it was. Surprisingly, I'm enjoying it. I picture Matthew Goode in Leap Year as the male lead, and that's certainly fine with me. Smokin' hot, I tell you. And yes, I like Leap Year. Mostly because of Matthew Goode, though, and a few of the really beautiful landscape shots. Anyway, it bothered me that I was unable to read a light novel aimed at teenagers in Spanish, so I found the Harry Potter books in Spanish and have them all prepped for me after I finish Jewels of the Sun. I've already read them in English and the comprehension level progresses with each book, so I think they'll be decent choices in an attempt to get my reading abilities up to scratch. What use am I only being able to read one language?