Sorting

Tue, 20 Feb 2007 01:15:17 GMT

Currently Listening
Neon Bible
By Arcade Fire
My Body Is a Cage

If I had the time to write everything I was thinking about I could write a novel. I don't expect anyone to actually read all of this, but I'm going to write it because, as when I usually sit down to write a long journal entry, it's because I feel like I need to. Where to start...
School. I guess I will start there because where I am in my life is theoretically centered around school. I have moved my life to a town where I am getting an education. On the one hand, I am really grateful that I get to do this. When I tell people I go to Chapel Hill they usually assume that I did something amazing to make myself worthy of getting in here. I feel horrible because I can't figure out what that something is. All I did in high school was perpetuate my horrible study habits and figure out how to do things last minute. And in high school that was enough. I didn't have to do anything and I made A's. Still, I felt like I didn't retain much and that I took advantage of a free education. I could have done sports longer, I could have taken more AP classes, I could have been in more clubs (and actually been involved that is, not just on the roster). And now, here I am at a college with a very prestigious connotation and I feel very disconnected from the image that people have of me. I still have horrible study habits, I still put things off til the last minute, I skip class. I am a slacker. People give their right arms to go to this school. And here I am feeling undeserving, and I'm right. If I can't even get up and fucking take some notes about how the statue of liberty was built, why should I be going here? My apathy has turned into hate I am contempt with that hate. I have no school spirit, no pride in my work and I just feel sorry for myself. I am amazed by people who come to this school from another state. They wanted to go to this college and watch these games and eat at this shitty dining hall and meet these people so much that they left their home and their state to do it. And they study, and succeed, and they are proud. And I just scour at them because I am jealous of how certain they are in their decisions and how happy they are. I don't know why I don't just grow up.
Speaking of growing up...
Responsibility. I love my job. I like the people I have met there and I like what I do. Though there are days when I don't feel like being the least bit creative, when I do it is so much fun. I get complimented at work for having this skill, for the things I make, for being nice and for having supreme-o eyesight. Sure it's retail, so it wears me out and the occasional customer who thinks they are the exception to the rule comes in and talks shit but at the end of the day, I like what I do. I like spending time there. I like watching other people create art and finding my own style of creating things. Of all the things I love about that store, I love the fact that I know this is a starting point. I am one of two people there who does not consider this the rest of my life's work. This is not my soul source of income for the next 20 years. This is my "college job." Having a little fun until I have to move on. Sometimes I forget that my life is still like that. I make some money, I spend a little, I save a little. I opened a CD and I am saving some dollars for the future. Times are hard because of Christmas and because of when I was irresponsible and decided that it was ok to go 85 in a 65 and got caught, but things are going to be ok. I might get another job to get some extra cash money on the side, but everyone who knows me knows that I am used to having more than one job. In fact, I like it. I like to bring in the bacon (but I don't like bacon). My account is like the stock market, its up and its down, but I'm always on top of my game there. My mom hates that I have "financial worries" and she blames my dad for making me grow up too fast, but I am glad my dad didn't decide to let me into the real world without knowledge of how money works. What I don't like is when my friends criticize me for working. Having responsibility and my own income means a lot to me. I like to work hard and I like to feel like a part of a team. Do not take that away from me by complaining that I can't drop everything and come see you on the weekend. The time off means more when I have earned it. (Why can't I feel that way about school?)
Speaking of bacon...
Food. I need to eat healthier. I need to take a good hard look at the long term effects of how I treat my body. I make poor decisions everyday when it comes to eating. I have tried to get help, but that is hard to come by. Even when I admit to my friends that I have a problem they don't do anything. And I did do that. And it was fucking hard. And nobody asks me how I'm doing. Well, I'm not doing so good. And it carries over into other things, like school and work and money. And that is why I have decided that I am ready to be serious about how I take care of myself and how I exercise. I will probably go back to a nutritionist or something through student wellness, because this needs to stop. I want to do the right thing because even if I don't think I can be happy, I can be. And I will be. And that is all I am going to say about that. And I will do it myself.
Speaking of myself....
A big change is happening. My step mom called me today and said that we sold our house. My house that I have had for 15 years. My house that the day we moved in and we didn't have any furniture, we ate ham sandwiches on the floor. The house where I grew up. The house where I liked to watch the leaves change. The house where I liked to go to the lake with my brother and watch the rain hit the water. The house where I used to sit in the driveway in the summer and look at the sky. The house where everything was quiet except the noises the birds make. The house where I would watch flowers that I had planted bloom. The house where I would sit an talk to my dad in his office about who I was and who I wanted to be. The house where I read the Sunday paper and watched black and white movies with my dad and step mom every Sunday. Everything that matters happened there. I learned how to drive stick-shift on my street, I learned how to cook in that kitchen, I got my first car in that driveway, I waited for my first date at that front door, I graduated there, my parents got married there, I went through good times and bad times. I could describe to you every crack, every turn, every photo, the placement of every little thing with my eyes closed. The first thing I do when I go home is open the door and inhale the distinct smell of my old house. It is in my clothes, it is in the furniture, it is in the air. Packing that up and moving to a city I have been to twice in my life is going to be hard. God. I'm crying. No, I'm weeping. I am so proud of my dad. This is everything he has ever worked for and wanted his whole life. But I am never going to be able to come home and go to my room and inhale the smell of everything I have ever known ever again. I wish I had taken more pictures. No more birthdays, no more Christmases no more of my family living in the same town. My mom and dad are going to be in different town. I can't think about this anymore. 4 more weeks....
Speaking of where I live...
Steph and I have been talking lately about what sweet sweet roommates we make. We rock hard at compatibility. Our schedules do not conflict, thus we are never waiting in line for a shower. These are the things that matter in the real world. When you need to be clean and nothing is standing in your way, nothing could be sweeter. We split things down the middle. All the kinks of adjusting to living with someone are being worked out in record time. Some people want to shoot their roommate after a month but Steph and I are living the good life. If we have a problem we work that shit OUT. No games. We have also decided that we are like married people. We share french fries and finish each others sentences and watch our shows together. If that ain't love then I don't know what love is. Sometimes Steph and I are polar opposites, but we respect that about each other, and we don't hide things and we don't talk smack. That is what I'm talking about.
Speaking of talking.... I'm finished.
I think I'm going to go wash the mascara off my face and sit down and make some good choices. And by that I mean I am going to make a to do list for life. I love to make a list.
If you read all of this, I commend you.
Evan, out.

Maybe

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 03:23:48 GMT

Maybe I will move from Xanga to LJ. Maybe....

I need a change of scenery

doubloevan

Sorting

Maybe