Wasting Time, Girly Moments, and Other Life Stories

There are so many things I could be doing right now.

I could be cleaning and organizing my room.

I could be doing my French and International Relations homework that is due tomorrow.

I could be doing shopping for things I still need for my room.

I could be running.

But here's the funny thing--I feel like blogging. It's a bad habit to get into at the beginning of the school year: To be doing this rather than other things that need to be done. But whatever. It's college, I do what I want.

I don't even know what I want to blog about. I just feel like typing this out and we'll see where it goes.

Hmmm...over the last few days I've been going through a variety of emotions. Not as extreme as the last two weeks, but still there. My dad is almost always on my mind. On a few occasions, I've burst into tears thinking about him. For instance, my mom said she found something of his from several years ago. I was going along fine until BAM...face filled with tears. And again last night when I was watching a "He's Just Not That Into You" and Jennifer Aniston's dad has a heart attack.

It's weird. I know it was recent (4 weeks ago as of yesterday) but I didn't expect to be going through these strange periods of highs and lows.

I'm starting to get more and more into school. Met a couple new friends, went to one party, like a few of my classes, started applying for jobs, and tonight I have the first meeting of the English Honor's Society. Trying to get involved as much as I can. I know I can do it this semester, but the rest of the year and 2 years after, I'm not so sure about.  I guess I'll have to figure it out as time goes by.

Ok, here comes my quarterly "girly moment" (Fall 2011 edition).

If you've read my last post ("So There's This Thing"), then I mentioned that I was currently in "like" with someone.

Yes, it is true.

Over the course of this blog--this is the third "like".

The first two didn't work out for their own reasons. And I'm ok with that.

This one might be a bit different. I don't know.

I don't even have his phone number.

All I know is that the one friend I have that's met him too says she thinks he's "showing signs of being totally into [me]".

I'm terrible at relationships, I've decided. Never really ever having one, I don't know what it takes to be in one and how the whole "courting" situation goes. And especially in this day and age when girls can ask out guys...I'm just really confuzzled.

I wish people were clear cut about this. If I had the balls to walk up to this guy and say "Hey, I like you. Maybe we could go out" I totally would. But I'm old fashioned. Plus, I never know if they like me back.

So, really, I wish that they would just be a man, waltz up to me and say "Hey, I like you. Maybe we could go out." Dude, if you read this, and you like me, just freakin' tell me. I'm not saying that I'll say I like you back, but to be able to know without all these false pretenses going on would be great. And it would satisfy my need for old-fashionedness.

Apparently I'm now becoming of the age where several people that I know are starting to get married. My best friend and I were talking about this on the phone the other day. Within the last year, 5 of our friends have gotten engaged or married. I know at least 2 others that probably will within the next year as well.

As for me, I'm scared of getting married. I also mentioned this on my last post. I don't want to become this new person if/when I get married. I don't want to have all of my goals and things I hope to achieve be completely thrown off course.

I need a guy that understands and supports that.

I'm not making much sense to myself. I've been lacking on sleep, apparently. So let's finish this off like any good English student, shall we?

Concluding paragraph:

All in all, I'm happy with my life as of this moment. There may be things that I wish, like family that lives closer and more friends, but I'm content in my lifestyle. Perhaps this guy will admit that he, too, likes me. Every body loves a happy ending, don't they? The happiest ending I could ever imagine is to be content with my life, achieve my goals as a writer and person, be with my family, and maybe--just maybe--find a guy that will want all the same things for me, him and us.

Girly moment over.

The end.

Back to French and International Relations.

So There's This Thing.

So, it's Labor Day.

Considering the majority of the students in my school have parents within a 70 mile radius, it's pretty quiet around here right now.

Well, except that one girl outside who won't stop shouting.

But other than that, most people are gone for BBQ-ing and such.

Not me. Nope. I've been sitting in my dorm room all day: First I talked on the phone for 2 hours, then I Twittered and Facebooked, then I pulled out the books I need to read, then I changed my sheets, then I Twittered and Facebooked, then I put the pillowcases on my nekkid pillows, then I started reading one of my books, Twitter, Facebook, more reading, deep sighing, pulled up my French homework and proceeded to bang my head on the desk at my lack of rememberance of the French language. Ugh. Then more Twitter and Facebook.

And now here I am.

Somewhere in one of those Facebook sprees, I pulled up my friend Hope's blog. Hope is a wonderful person I know from high school and she's currently living 5 miles away from me because she's working at Disneyland for the College Program. It's pretty awesome. And so is her blog.

But anyway, she was nominated for this thing called "Versatile Blog Award". Basically, everyone who's nominated must write 7 factoids about themselves and then link you, the reader, to 5 more blogs.

Apparently, it's a thing.

So I've been nominated from the lovely Hope. You all probably either know a lot of crap about me, or nothing, or just random tidbits.

Let's learn some more shall we?

1) I'm really terrible at writing facts about myself in a numbered and non-roundabout fashion. So this is gonna be fun.

2) My Senior prom cost me $25. $15 for the dress (clearance) and $10 for food (Chinese take-out). That's cuz I'm awesome and I won a contest where I got $100 for David's Bridal which my sister and I used for accessories and also got my tickets for free. It was pretty awesome.

3) As I write this I'm on Skype video chatting with one of my friends from home. It's pretty awesome.

4) I have a lot of friends who have just recently been married or engaged or are about to be married or engaged. Part of yearning for boyfriends and marriage and such, but the other part is scared shitless of marriage. I'm afraid that I'll never meet "Mr. Right", yet at the same time I'm frightened that if/when I do, I'll completely change myself for marriage. Oh, also, I'm currently in "like" with someone who I half think likes me back, half think wouldn't look at me twice. I'll probably do a whole post about this at some point.

5) My dream used to be an actress. I'm so glad that it isn't anymore. I love writing more than I could have ever realized.

6) My music tastes vary widely. Right now, I'm listening to my Gaga/Rihanna playlist. Earlier I had Benny Goodman playing. I think it adds a certain quirk to me.

7) I'm a genuinely funny person once you get to know me. The thing is, I'm so frightened to meet new people that most they usually don't see that side of me for quite some time.

Now, to tag my other bloggers.

1. Tulips to Kiss You With

2. All That is Holly

3. Musings of a Closet Writer

.... Hope is the only other blogger I follow that releases content and I already linked you to her.

So y'all. That's the thing.

--Chelsea

Forms of Inspiration

It is 12:32 AM.

12:32 AM on Saturday.

If you remember, dear reader, my last post consisted of me making an agreement with myself that I would stick it out to Friday of the first week of class and then see if I want to drop out and go home, take a leave, or to stay here.

Welp, I'm still here.

Let me explain a bit (I will anyway so just keep reading):

This week has been full of ups and downs. Sometimes I look back on it, and it seems to have gone by soooo slowly, each moment ticking slower than the one before it. And then other times, it speeds up so incredibly fast that I have to do a double take.

Classes have gone fairly well thus far. I have only male teachers (and I'm sure my female/homosexual readers would like to know that one is very sexy indeed). The classes involve a lot of reading from all different areas, and several projects that look quite compelling. Except French. It's been 2 years since I've spoken French and I threw myself into an Intermediate class where the teacher likes to speak francais 100% du temps (of the time). It's frustrating.

I haven't done much social event stuff, but I have made some friends that I chill with or just have breakfast with. It's fun.

Nights seem to be the hardest part of this process. I miss my mom, my dogs, my nephews, my comfortable bed, and sometimes even my brothers ( :P ).

I still feel lonely because most of the time I am alone in a crowd of people. When by myself and alone, I'm perfectly fine. But to be the odd man out, it frightens me. I don't like being alone.

There's ups and there's downs.

Tuesday night, I called my mom crying and ready to pack my things and head home. She told me to go ask my RA the steps for going home after I took a shower. Sometime before I made it out of my room, I called her back and said that I would give it til the end of the week.

Come Wednesday afternoon, I had my Creative Writing course. Lately, I haven't felt much like writing. All these ideas, no desire to sit down and do it. However, my professor gave us the assignment to sit quietly and write whatever we felt like.

And so I did.

And because this blog is for my writing, I decided to actually post writing tonight. So here's what I wrote.

Paul

“Run!” they shouted loudly. “Hurry!”

The men in boots stormed through the house, pushing my family along.

“Pack your things!” they yelled. “Quickly!”

Their harsh German accents were loud, harsh. My instinct was to fight back, but common sense told me that that would only land me in a mass grave.

Quickly, I grabbed the suitcase that I had intended to use when I ran away with Linda. Throwing clothes in, I allowed myself to say good-bye to her in my soul. They said that Jews never came back when they were relocated. I would never see my beauty again.

Across the hall, I heard my father whisper for my mother to hide the few family heirlooms we still had in her apron pocket. The Nazi’s would only steal it for themselves when they ransacked our home after we left. Silently, tears rolling down her cheeks, she did as she was told.

It took less than five minutes before we were standing in front of what had once been our home, in a massive crowd of other star-wearing neighbors. We held hands through the streets as the soldiers marched us to the train station.

We passed by Linda’s home, but I couldn’t bear to see if she was at that window where we had fallen in love so short a time ago. Did she see me? Was she crying at the sight of so many Jews on the way to slaughter?

Onto the train, we piled, hearing the Nazi’s German shouted. Many of us wept, others prayed. The cattle doors shut behind us and we were locked in darkness.

There was no room to sit, to breathe. We could only stand, packed tightly together. My mother and father were on either side of me, frozen with fear. The train began pulling away and there were shouts from all around as we lurched forward.

Useless.

So many sweating bodies of so many ages quickly began smelling. My neighbors constantly knocked into me with each bump in the track. The prayers and shouts continuing, asking for God or the Germans to save our lives.

But all I could seem to think of was Linda.

Linda

It was funny how quickly I caught sight of Paul in the sea of faces.

Just moments before, I had been awoken from my slumber by the harsh shouting just outside the house. Flying to the window, I saw them coming.

Jews.

Both my enemy and my greatest love.

The soldiers marched them through the town for us all to see the “traitors to humankind”. They were taking them to the last train ride of their lives.

But there was Paul—tall and strong amongst the frightened. He held tightly to his mother and father, whom I’d only seen from afar. He did not look at me, but I could not take my gaze off of him until they turned a corner and were out of sight.

With nothing more than my nightgown on, I sprinted from my room, down the staircase and out the front door. I saw my father, dressed in his finest watching the last of the Jews walking to their death.

“Where are they going?” I asked, although I knew perfectly well.

My father, standing tall and still, took a long moment to answer.

“They are being relocated to a more suitable area for their kind.”

Just a few weeks ago, I would have believed him thoroughly. Before I met Paul, before I learned what it was like to be amongst the Jewish community, before I fell in love and began to have an opinion of my own.

But now I knew better.

“But why?”

“It is the way of the world of my child.” He turned to face me, keeping his face straight. “This evening I will be leaving to oversee their new community. To assure it is to their liking.”

“Papa—”

“Your mother and you will be going on holiday until I return.”

“But Papa—”

“Enough Linda. You do as you’re told.”

“But Papa, I would so much enjoy to see their new community.” He looked suspicous at this and I scrambled for reasoning. “I would like to better understand how to accomplish the Aryan quest. To make a better world.”

He considered this for a few moments. The streets outside had cleared so quickly after the Death March had left that you wouldn’t have known it had happened if you weren’t there. That was the Hitler’s master plan, wasn’t it? To make it seem like the Jews had never been here in the first place.

“Very well, Lise. You will accompany me for a few days. But while we are there, you are to speak to no one and to do exactly as told. Do you understand?”

“Yes Papa.”

“Go get ready. We will leave after supper.”

I practically ran to my room, giddy with excitement. A plan had formed in my head.

While my father worked, I would disguise myself and find a way to Paul. From there, we could run away to the United States together. Never having to worry about Hitler or his supreme race again.

Two star-crossed lovers would be reunited once more.

Of course some details have been changed for copyright purposes, but there we have it. I had to read mine aloud to the class (3 of the class of 14 did).

My professor called it both "chilling" and "inspiring". It earned a stamp of approval from a professor who is a published author.

This gave me the spark of confidence that I needed so desperately. I needed to know that I could do this writing thing, that THIS is the reason I came to the school in the first place.

Everything just seems so much better now. It's going to continue going through ups and downs, but I know now why I came to this school. Why I'm being taken from my family and made to go through this struggle.

I can do it. I'm staying until at least the end of the semester, and then we'll see what happens from there.

For a bit of housekeeping, I would like to thank all of my friends that have been so supportive of me during the last few difficult weeks. You have no idea how much this means to me.

However, to the young person who continues to e-mail and attempt to contact me, PLEASE leave me alone. If you choose to continue reading my blog (not recommended), then no more comments. They're rather annoying and I don't need you in my life. The answer will always be no. Thank you.

I always seem to apologize for long posts, but then again most of my posts are long. I figure it makes up for my gaps in actually posting them. So, I hope you enjoyed this time with me. I sure did.

--Chelsea

Loneliness and Split Decision

Welp. Here I am.

Far away from home, sitting in my new dorm room, fresh out of a weekend full of orientation and Disneyland. Not to mention today's classes.

I'm finally going to live out my dreams and be the person I've always wanted to be.

This should be the greatest moment of my life now, right?

Then why does it all feel so wrong?

Last post I talked about how my dad's passing made me reevaluate my life and choose to live rather than be sad. A week and a half ago, that's exactly how I felt.

But as soon as we got here, everything changed.

I feel like I haven't really been able to accept what's happened to my dad. Like I've moved on to the next hurdle before I've completely jumped over the first one.

I want to want to be here (read that carefully).

But at the same time, I want to go home badly.

Since I arrived life has consisted of a series of ups and downs. My move-in day consisted of me bawling my eyes out and going to go see an on-duty counseler to work through this grief, but she wasn't able to help. The next day, I went to Disneyland and everything seemed beautiful. Saturday, I happily went dorm shopping then to Disneyland with friends. I came home and the sadness started again. I truly considered dropping out of school to go home and deal with this.

Sunday got better: I decided to give it a week, then on Friday decide if I want to stay, go, or possibly take a leave of absence. I went out to lunch and then Disneyland with a new friend, was able to gush about girly things, and felt like I could truly do this. And then that night, the dread and miserable sadness came back.

I've been going through this vicious circle over and over again.

I can't decide what to do. This feels like it will never end. Before my dad passed I felt like coming to this school was my dream. Now I don't think it is. In fact, I don't know if college has ever been my dream or if it was my dad's and I just went along with it. It's all I've ever known.

I don't want to let him down.

But more than anything, I'm feeling this terrible loneliness. My roommate was here for maybe an hour total since she moved it, and that was when she was sleeping. The rest of the time she was God knows where with her own friends. I've been having a hard time making any friends at all. No one knows what I've been going through and even if they did, they wouldn't know what to say.

How many girls lose their dad two weeks before they move 400 miles away from home?

One that I know of.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I'm stuck right now. Stuck between happiness and depression. Stuck between wanting to be here and wanting to be home. Stuck between knowing what I should be feeling.

It's terribly frustrating that I always know what to do but in this case, I'm completely lost. I have no idea what to do.

And that fact in itself is absolutely killing me.

3 Funny Things and 1 week

It's funny how a loss as big as this can bring up so many questions.

Am I still going to school?

Do we have enough money to get by?

Mom, are you going to move?

Am I going to be ok?

What happens when we die?

Does God exist?

I've mentioned it before on this blog that my views of God and the afterlife aren't exactly set in stone. I don't know if we have a Creator, if things are linked by some form of "the Big Guy" and we all either go to some place of majesty in the sky (or fiery pit of hell). Perhaps we're just beings in this land, stuck here by some scientific commodity. Maybe when we die, our souls are reincarnated.

I honestly don't know.

There's so much I want to believe...but so much that just doesn't make sense to me.

Also funny is how a loss like this makes you want to yearn that there is a Heaven and a God out there so that when we to die, we can join the other departed souls. Before last week, I never wanted that to be true as much as I do right now.

But for now, I'm don't know.

This has been my last week at home. As such, it seems only right to make my rounds to all of my friends and old watering holes.

Everyone knows what's happened to my family. And when I see them, they give me this big sad puppy dog look, expecting me to start sobbing immediately.

The third funny thing is I haven't cried a lot. Well, I cried a lot on the few days following, but by the time his Memorial service came on Saturday, I'd decided I was done crying. He lived, can't we celebrate that? Can't we keep living our own lives?

Yes, I'm sad. And yes, I smile a lot more than frown. That's how I chose to live.

I think that's enough funny things.

I might not be posting for a while now. Tomorrow and Sunday are my last days at home and consquently jam packed with visitations and other activities. Monday, I pack up the car and head towards the coast. Tuesday and Wednesday will be filled with various Southern California sightseeing activities. Thursday is the big move-in date and then orientation starts and goes through part of Saturday.

This time next week, I will be completely on my own a few hundred miles from home.

This is so incredibly scary that I just put three "b's" in "incredibly. Yeah, trembling.

But I think I'm excited. I just need to get through everything in the next 2 days (and pack...).

So, I suppose I'll see you in a couple weeks or so.

--Chelsea

Finale

Sigh.

Imagine that that wasn't a word, and an actual action.

Sigh.

Today is only Wednesday. For the last 48 hours, my mind has been a flurry of activity and it seems like it should already be October.

I guess I should explain why....

Have you ever read a book and noticed how some of the plot seemed to fit your life exactly? Better yet, have you ever experienced something and then realized that you had read a book where something similar had happened?

There are so many books about cancer victims, whether they be the main character, or their siblings or parents. Whether they survive...or die.

Well, the other day I posted about how my father was not doing well at all and that I was worried about him.

At approximately 8:05 yesterday morning, my father was sent to Paradise.

It's funny that no matter how many books I've read about this happening, the feeling still doesn't compare to this blow.

Six months ago, my father was healthy and happy.

Five months ago, he caught pneumonia.

Four months ago, that pneumonia caused cancer cells in his lymph nomes to travel to his lungs, turning into Stage 4 lymphoma. We were assured that everything was going to be OK. He would get chemo and it would be away and we could move on with our lives.

Four weeks ago, my father was doing better everyday. The cancer was shrinking according to the different scans. His breathing was getting better. He was going to survive.

Three weeks ago, he went to the hospital to get his lungs cleared. Still everything seemed fine. When he came home, however, he had a very hard time breathing on his own. But still the scans showed that the cancer was comparable and he was going to make it through.

A week ago, he went back to the hospital for breathing and his lungs. They took another scan and things were not well. On Sunday morning, we learned that he would not make it unless he took a very painful chemotherapy which might not even work. We decided on hospice care, hoping that he would improve a bit on his own, but ultimately knowing this was the beginning of the end.

Monday night, he was transported to hospice.

Tuesday morning, he was gone.

It all happened too quickly for any of us to process. I still can't even get used to the fact that this even happened.

But I think my father knew on Monday what was going to happen. We went to visit him at the hospital, and while he was very tired, he seemed to want to be with us. I held his hand for the first time in a very long while and we just couldn't let go. I also forget how many times we mouthed the words "I love you" to one another. We said good-bye, and that was it.

My father was a great man, and he inspired a lot of people. Practically everyone he's ever met has something good to say about him. He took care of his family fiercly.

He was my hero. I never got a chance to tell him this, but I know he knows.

My book that I'm currently working on getting published will be dedicated to him.

This is the story of how life is. Quick and crazy, but the choices we make along the way determine how the world remembers us. For my dad, it was as a good-natured hero.

Runs, Ruts, and Hospital Visits

Welp, here I am, Dear Reader.

You'd think that the fact that I haven't been working and thus have absolutely no life would mean that I'm writing and blogging my little heart out lately?

Nope.

Actually, my shot at summer has consisted of sleeping (I love this), running in the bajillion degree heat, some shopping, lots of movies (mainly drooling over Captain America's defined definition), and reading.

I make it a point to always carry a book with me at all times. When I was working, it would take me around a month to finish one book, if I was lucky (hour long lunch breaks really pan out to about 18 reading minutes). However, I've read a couple books already. "Dreaming Anastasia" (started out blegh, turned to meh) and "Annexed" (I read this baby in one night...could not put it down). Right now I'm working on "Beauty Queens".

I've been packing. I move in 16 days and it's scaring the crap out of me.

And I've been going to the hospital. Last Sunday, I was sent to the ER for chest pains...turned out to be nothing (maybe anxiety, see above point). However now I'm going under intense-like testing for my severe anemia. Again, could be nothing.

But my dad wound up in the hospital again.

I really hate bringing this up...but we should know by now that my dad was diagnosed with cancer in the spring. He's not fairing well. I'm really worried.

I can't express it in words much better than saying that I was bawling my eyes out tonight thinking about it.

Let's all think happy thoughts, right?

Well...

So I was running this morning, trying not to die in the intense heat. I was going my average pace down my every day route.

And it hit me. No, not a bus...a realization.

I'm stuck in a rut.

In running, I can't seem to improve one little bit. My distance sucks as does my pacing.

In writing, I keep going back to the same old stories, looking to salvage something. But I haven't been able to write anything really new or exciting. My brain is stuck.

I routinely drive the same roads in town, sometimes heading automatically to one place that I always go, switching lanes at the same spot...

I'm too damn comfortable with life.

In 2 weeks, everything will be changing. I will be moving to a new state, to a new neighborhood, changing all the people I know and will utterly be alone in the world.

Now if that's not some scary sh*t, I don't know what is.

So here's my goal: I'm going to start embracing life some more.

Taking advantage of every moment. Perhaps two runs a day, doing writing exercises to get my brain going, practicing my French, and getting used to getting out and enjoying life some more.

--Chelsea