Return to the College Life

I have been back at the dorms since Friday evening. It's been nice to be surrounded by my friends again, but I'm surprised at how used to solitude I became during break. The thing I often take for granted about dorm living is how very few and far between any hours of solitude happen to be. There have been days when I haven't even been lucky enough to get a shower without a knock on the door, a call, a text message, or various other interruptions.

I guess I'm just having issues adjusting to the lack of personal space. Being away from the constant barrage of people and things to do and opinions to share and stories to tell sort of got me used to being able to do my own thing again. I forgot what it's like to have people want to be around me, want to share things with me, want to tell me their stories. Being in a sour mood almost makes me feel a little big guilty because I know they mean well and they want to share their joys and sorrows with me. Of the same token, I don't really know how to explain to them that, sometimes, I just need time to myself. Hopefully, classes starting will give me a decent excuse to retreat back into myself.

For some reason, I found myself in an especially foul mood this evening. There wasn't any particular reason. I missed all my girls, and I have enjoyed spending time with the new people that we've added to our group. I just found myself in a terrible mood, and there wasn't really any end to it. Of course, my roommates were accommodating and allowed me to bitch my black little heart out about it. That was nice. It's nice to have people to whom you can say all the mean things you think of without them judging you. Not that I'm all that scathing or witty--frankly, I've been too tired to be all that witty lately--but it's nice to give vent to all the socially unacceptable things that pop into my brain.

Mostly, I'm just ready for an end to all this collegiate nonsense. It would be really wonderful if someone could bestow upon me a degree for being myself. I'd really love to have a career based completely on Internet musings, critiques of other people's hard work, and a night-time lounge singing act. That's my pipe dream. Silly, considering the fact that I don't really sing acceptably well.

Health and Wellness

I'm pleased to announce that my general health is much improved. I'm still suffering some coughing and a slight bouts of troubled breathing, but it doesn't feel like anyone's sitting on my chest anymore. This is what I would call a victory.

On the subject of life in general, I'm definitely ready to return to the dorms. I love my family for the most part, but they are starting to wear very thin on my nerves. Very thin, indeed. Apart from some minor family annoyances or skirmishes, my life has been very boring. The major joy of my last few days has been loading my CDs into iTunes. With this done, I am satisfied. That's really been the only excitement of my week.

I'd love to talk about the majority of the things that are on my mind lately, but I'm not really sure that they're entirely appropriate to blog about. Frankly, I'm totally amused by a situation that has gone down between me and someone that I thought was my friend who I have blogged about here before, AW. To say that I have not been injured would be a total lie, but to say that I'm hurt to the extent that he and others probably think I am is a total falsehood as well. More ore less, I'm actually kind of laughing about it. My reasons for that would require explanation and back-story, but I'm sure they're not what you're thinking.

I know it's awkward to mention a situation and not explain it, but it's a lot more personal than it seems. And, quite honestly, I don't know if AW reads this blog, and I don't want to write something that seems like it was intended to be scathing or hurtful. I don't want to be scathing or hurtful, but I know that's how my thoughts will come across, so it's probably best to not put them out there. More than that, this a blog for me. Not a blog for my responses to people who have irked me, hurt me, pissed me off, whatever. (Don't get me wrong, I know it becomes that from time to time, but it's not the actual intent.) Plus, I'm just not that upset about it. For a plethora of reasons. It's not as big a letdown as I think he thought it would be.

This is the part of the blog where you think to yourself, "Wow. Jessica might be growing up a little..." Hopefully, you are right.

I'd love to say that I have it in me to drop some great truth or say something deep and meaningful right now, but I don't. Not really. That said, I think I'm going to take my sense of moral superiority off to bed. Extra rest should help me kick the cough a little faster. I leave you with this little joy because it's oddly fitting.

One Month!

I have reached one month of not drinking! Go me!

That is all.

Health Update

I am feeling marginally better today, but my mood is more sour. Funny how one thing improves, but the others falter. My breathing is slightly less labored, but the trade-off is that there's a lot more mucus now. I realize that this is a good thing, but my nose is starting to turn that Kleenex-chafed red. I discovered that sleeping only happens productively for me if my chest is elevated (for whatever perplexing reason), and thus, sleep has not been easy--which is what I'm attributing my pissy mood to. It's not even pissy so much as just lacking completely in any kind of patience.

My twin and his girlfriend, Jill, once again visited us. They were here from Thursday until today. I had intended to mention it in my last post, but other things were weighing heavily on my brain. The only sadness I have regarding their visit was that I spent most of it sick. Because of being sick, I stayed in bed and was mostly useless. It's unfortunate because soon my brother will be moving to Austin, Texas, and I will see him much, much less than I even see him now--which is precious little, let me tell you!

I don't really have much to say beyond that. I have no witty observations or thoughts with any depth. Mostly, I'm just ready to stop being sick and to start classes back up. For now, it's not much deeper than that.

Bill Zeller and My Pitiful Problems

Quick update: turns out that I do have bronchitis, as I had suspected (which I don't think I mentioned on here, but tweeted and facebooked about). No surprises there. I have a prescription for antibiotics and cough syrup, so things should at least get a little less painful soon. That said, let's get serious.

I don't know how many of you keep up with the news. My commitment to being an informed human being is lackadaisical at best. I spend a few days perusing NPR or The Huffington Post on the web, feel informed enough to pass as intelligent, and move on. I admit, even the subject that I am about to bring to your attention now is not the result of an interest in the news, but rather the result of a subscription to a blog.

Bill Zeller was a young man who was a doctoral candidate at Princeton. He was a brilliant computer scientist, and he was responsible for many programs and applications that are very popular today. Bill Zeller cut his own life short after spending years trapped in an emotional hell. Bill Zeller spent his college career attempting to hide the pain of his past and his rage from everyone, and everyone let him get away with that.

I truly, honestly hope that no one in my life is suffering with the kind of secrets and pain that this young man endured in his life. I hope that the people around me know that there is hope, know that there are people that care about them and are willing to help them through. I hope that the people who are in my life are aware that there are alternatives to living in their own pain.

I can't even imagine what it must have been like for Bill Zeller, to be so disconnected and despondent. I can't imagine what it feels like to have no one to trust, not because other people cannot be trusted but because what you have been through dominates the entirety of your life so greatly that you cannot get away from it, cannot escape it's hold on your thoughts and your life. I cannot even being to imagine the extent of the pain that he's experienced in his life to feel like suicide was truly his only option.

We sit in our comfortable lives, complaining about what we don't have so much that we forget what we do have. We forget about the pain of the people around us. We let it slide by because we're so concerned about the cell phone we dropped or the boyfriend we broke up with or the jerk that cut us off in traffic. How many times did Bill Zeller's warning signs slide by his peers because they were so focused on their own troubles, when they really didn't have all that many troubles at all?

Reading Bill Zeller's suicide note is heartbreaking. It left me feeling so cold and empty. I cannot imagine how it is to feel so utterly alone. It is a shame and a failure that people like Bill Zeller slip through the cracks and that we as a society allow it to happen.

All that I can say is that I hope no one whose life I've ever touched feels like suicide is their only way out. I hope that they don't feel like no one cares for them. I hope that, in my future career as a student and as a teacher, people like Bill Zeller will not slide by under my radar.

I encourage you to read Bill Zeller's note, in its entirety, here.

Congestion and Condemnation

I may have mentioned in the past that, when I am sick, I turn into a totally baby. Of course, right now, I am sick. What started out as chest congestion that I was sure was due to my asthma has become body-wracking, hacking coughing, mucous, body aches, and a terrible attitude. I sound like a dying character in a movie or television show with my labored breathing and crackling wheeze. Needles to say, it is not pretty.

The worst part about being sick is that it reduces me to an angry, whining child. When I'm sick, I don't want to do anything, and my self-indulgence tends to get the better of me. I'm so miserable that I've been on the verge of tears all day. Hardly being able to breathe has made me dread getting up or walking around because I know that it's just going to be unpleasant. It's going to hurt, and then I'm going to struggle for the next ten or fifteen minutes to catch my breath without coughing so hard that it makes me pee a little bit.

It is times like these that make me miss my husband. Any time that I have ever been sick, he has done his best to take care of me. When we were first dating, he made me soup and tea and we watched movies on his couch. (This later lead to my story about watching The Notebook, which I have tentatively titled, "How Jessica Makes A Fool of Herself by Crying Like A Child for Forty-five Minutes."It's a good story. I'll tell you about it sometime.) He has always made sure that I have everything I need when I get sick, and he has always babied me, just like I love to be babied.

Alas, due to our current circumstances, we are separated. My family has little, if any, sympathy for me, in spite of the wheezing death knell that I have right now. Of course, having very little sympathy for me means asking me to go up and down the stairs, performing meaningless tasks. It's also manifested in watching me cleaning up dinner dishes from a meal that I wasn't even invited to partake in--in fact, I had to fend for myself when it came to dinner tonight. Being that we have nothing in the house, dinner for me consisted of Club crackers, salami, and cheese. That's going to help me get better quickly, right?

I guess my thesis here today is that I miss my husband, and I feel lousy. I wish that he could be taking care of me right now, rather than sitting by myself in this king sized bed, tearing up because I'm miserable and frustrated. I know I'm not a fan of self-pity in other people, but I'm taking a day to have a little for myself.

My Grandmother

Sparked by a conversation with JJ, I've decided to write a little bit about my paternal grandmother. I believe I wrote to her for my letters project posts, but I thought that, since she's been on my mind, I'd take some time to blog about her.

Everyone generally considered my grandmother to be the person who single-handedly held our family together. I suppose this is true, when one examines the rifts in our relationships since her death. She was kind and generous, especially when it came to her grandchildren. She, like her sisters and husband, was a devout Catholic, and she took her Catholicism very seriously. I'm sure she was displeased that we were not being raised in the Catholic church, but, if she was, she never said anything that made us feel uncomfortable about it. She always made sure that we were cared for and had everything that we needed, from clothes to school supplies to snacks and toys.

I'm certain that she had her faults, like most people do, but I don't really remember them. I recall her fighting with my mother about various things over the years, but they never pulled us into their tiffs. I recall her vanity--she dyed her hair (roots, more or less, were the crux of the issue) black each week or two well past the age when flawless black would have been natural for her. She always had a signature hairstyle, and she wore signature scents as well--Imari by Avon for casual, Cinnabar by Estee Lauder for her special occasion scent. She always maintained her image by being polite to everyone, doing what was best and most socially acceptable. She was, as has gone by the wayside over the years, a true lady.

My grandmother was a lovely woman. She had a plethora of friends. She volunteered at her local nursing home. She loved her children and her husband. My grandmother gave me the lovely gift of many, many wonderful childhood memories. I may not have gotten much of her after she passed away, but I knew her and knowing her was a gift of its own.

One of the memories striking me with great force tonight is of when she was in the hospital, shortly before she died. My grandmother had been hospitalized for some time with Guillain-Barre Syndrome, and she died as a result of an embolism which migrated to her heart, which is a common complication of Guillain-Barre. Guillain-Barre has an element of paralysis to it, and since people who are paralyzed cannot use their extremities all that well, they are more likely to develop clots. Despite the blood thinners and exercises they were doing with her, she did develop a clot. The only positive thing that I can say about this is that we had seen her the day that she died, earlier that afternoon, and we had been able to tell her that we loved her. It was a minor blessing in the midst of a family tragedy.

Just before her death, I had gotten my first sort of punk notions about myself, and I had decided that it was totally imperative for me to have burgundy hair. My mother, after consulting a beautician friend of hers, reluctantly agreed, much to my father's later surprise. My father had declared that he liked it, but that he was sure that my grandmother, who was not so much a fan of odd colors of hair dye, would probably hate it. He assured me that I ought to prepare myself for a discussion of disapproval at the very least.

When we went to go see her, probably a day or so after my change of hair, I was nervous. When we walked in, she noticed my hair immediately. Much to the surprise of myself and my father, she declared that she loved my new hair style, and nothing negative was ever said about it. I remember the look on her face as she told me that she liked it, the light in her eyes. I think back to that day quite often, thinking of how her opinion on the matter could have made or broken the whole situation. Had she absolutely hated it, I'm sure I'd have been crushed.

As I am often wont to do, I think of her very much. I wonder what she would think of me as an adult, what she'd have thought of me at the worst of my teenage rebellion. Would my tattoos and piercings be met with chidings and scorn or would they have been as easily accepted as my burgundy hair was that afternoon in her hospital room? Would she approve of my major? Would I have waited so long to go back to school if she'd been around to advise me, guide me? Most of all, would she be proud of the woman that I've become or would she find me sassy and uncouth? Would she appreciate my honesty and candor or would she consider me impolite and assuming?

As I age, I try to honor my grandmother's memory in small ways, the ways that I can manage. Though I will never be as patient or as kind as she was, I do try to at least emulate some of her behaviors. She used to make Kifli, a Germanic/Polish/Hungarian pastry, every year for Christmas, even giving some as gifts to people (such as priests at her church and whatnot). I have attempted to take over her role as the family Kifli-maker. This year is the first year since I've mastered the art that we simply haven't had the money to buy the ingredients to make them--these are not a cheap pastry, I have discovered. Even dying my hair black now is done with a nod of deference to her, though I do occasionally add streaks of colors that she might have liked much less. It makes me think of her and how she always wanted to be perfectly coiffed.

My grandmother played a huge role in shaping who I have become. She continues to shape me to this day. Even though it gets harder to remember her, harder to remember the small details, there will always be important memories that stick out to me. She will always be the woman who taught me how to make Kifli in her kitchen during the chill of December, the woman who let me play in her jewelry boxes when I was just a little girl, the woman who made her basement and patio two of my most favored locations as a child. She will always be the woman who went out of her way at all times to make sure that my brothers and I felt absolutely, totally, and completely loved. There is not a single thing in this whole world, not even death, that could ever take that away from us.

The Year in Review: 2010

I thought I might do a recap of my year, being that I've had some rough stuff going on. I know that my last post noted that it's too little, too late for a recap, but I thought I'd say to hell with convention and go for it anyways.

First, let's note the negatives that happened to me in 2010:

• My car got totaled by a crazy driver who rear-ended me, from whom I still have not gotten a settlement.
• My husband and I split locations to figure ourselves out. (To be as clear as possible, we haven't given up on each other yet. We're trying to negotiate our neuroses well enough to function as a couple.)
• I discovered I hated my major, which I'd been worked on for the last two, almost three, years.
• My friend, AW, decided he didn't really want to be friends with me anymore.
• I struggled with alcohol, which I never thought would happen.
• I had a roommate issue and had to change dorms, much to my chagrin.

Okay, that's depressing enough, really. It's not as bad as it could be, but it's not the best year of my life either. It's pretty much been one of the worst of my life to date, actually. I do acknowledge, however, through the veil of the haze of my personal selfishness, that other people do have it worse than I do. That said, let's look at the positives of my year:

• My husband and I had fantastic date nights.
• My husband graduated from college, the first in his family to do so.
• I successfully completed a 30 day letters project.
• My favorite musician tweeted at me.
• I've found some sobriety (fledgling though it may be) and had some interesting revelations and moments of clarity.

In light of all that I've been through this year, the ups and the downs, I think I'm doing pretty well. My mental health is in tact. Logic still applies to my life. I still enjoy the quiet moments that I have to just myself, which is alright with me. I would still really love it if this year took a turn for the autonomous and lucky (from my lips to God's ears, no?), and I'm not above putting that out there.

Maybe, in 2011, I'll figure out how to write something that doesn't suck.

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot

I keep meaning to blog more often, but I feel like I don't have nearly enough to say on the regular to make any of those blogs actually worth reading. I meant to write a recap of my year, but the time slipped by me. It seems too little, too late on that front now. Alas! Woe! I fail at creativity! Instead, I shall spout generic updates.

First, my New Year was rung in fairly quietly. My friend, Ellen, came to get me and we spent a lovely evening chilling out. We went to a Chinese buffet, and then, we went back to her house to watch a movie. We watched Valentine's Day, which was good, if a little formulaic. We watched the ball drop on television, finished our movie, and then talked for a while. My night was fun and sober, so I have been keeping to my goals so far. Hopefully, this is indicative of the kind of year that this will be.

On the first, my dad and I made the drive over to Indiana--after several notable snafus--and spent the weekend in Indiana. I wanted to do so many things while I was there, but spending time with JJ was most important. We had dinner with his mother, went to a Chinese buffet with his father, went to lunch with our mutual friend Angie, and spend plenty of time just cuddling and watching movies.

It's interesting how much a person can enjoy cuddling when they haven't had the opportunity to cuddle for a while. You almost forget how nice it is to fit in someone else's arms. Notably, I have also missed having an opportunity to spend a weekend lounging in bed with JJ. It's been quite some time since I've had occasion to lounge in bed with someone other than just myself, but lounging in bed is especially appealing when another person is there to talk to, laugh with, and enjoy. It's even better when you can watch fantastic 80s movies like Night of the Comet, which was one of my favorite movies when I was growing up.

I also had a chance while in Indiana to go to dinner with my aunt, Maria. It was nice to get an evening with a supportive female who shares a portion of my genetic code. Sometimes, I forget what it's like to have female family members support me--which is more of a tale for a tell-all memoir than it is for a blog. My point is that it was nice to have some female bonding time. I realize that I have plenty of friends to bond with, but it's different when the female is a relative. There's a different energy there, a different kind of bond.

Mostly, I'm just glad that my life is more or less on track and that I had a good weekend. It was nice to get away from things for a while, spend a few days just relaxing. It was also nice to hear someone tell me that I have a healthy attitude and mindset. Sometimes, I tend to get a little too wrapped up in my negative qualities, and it's nice to hear that other people think that I have positive qualities. Above all, it was great to spend some time with JJ that was free of fights and drama. This was a very needed weekend for us, and I'm glad that we got to have it. Hopefully, things will stay on a positive trend for us.

2011, please be a better year than 2010!

Books, Challenges, and Fears

Being that I'm having an awful time attempting to focus on the book I'm half-heartedly reading, I thought it might be a good time to get some blogging out of my system. This break, I've been trying to read as much as possible, since the crux of my reading material during my semesters revolves around class work. I'm on my third book in the last two weeks, all of them by Nora Roberts. It's not exactly brain food, but I like to read simple, quick books when I'm on break. I enjoy reading for pleasure, but it's really not possible while I'm trying to read for assignments as well. (It might have been more possible for me last semester, but that's got more to do with the classes I ended up dropping, really.)

This semester is going to be a bit of a change for me. I might actually have more time to read because I'll be doing precious little partying, which will be a very big changed compared to last semester. (While other people are grinding drunkenly, I'll be laying on my uncomfortable twin bed and getting closer to Dickens, Bronte [any of the Bronte sisters, really], or some other fascinating author.) So far, I'm sticking very well to sobriety. I have two weeks and two days sober, which I'm pleased about. New Year's Eve might be a bit of a challenge, but I'm thinking about staying home, despite some very tempting party invitations. It might be in my best interest to spend New Year's Eve with some old movies, books, and tea. In fact, that's what I'm very much prepared to do.

Anyways, this next semester will be a challenge for some very personal reasons. One, I'm very new to this sobriety idea, and I'll be very tempted to stray from it. Two, one of my very close friends is struggling with an eating disorder. While I want to beat her about the head and neck for not seeking the help that she very well knows that she needs, I also desperately want to help her find happiness and health. I've been thinking about her all break, worrying over what she's going through on her own right now. I also know that it will be harder for me to maintain my sobriety and composure in the presence of people who haven't got all their control themselves. Dorms, young people (and their natural tendency to drink), and friends with their own struggles could be the perfect storm of pressure that's enough to set me back.

I'm worried. I'm worried that I won't be able to help my friend, and she'll make herself more ill. I'm worried that the dorms will be too much for me to handle and that I might have to move back home or find a new place to live. I'm worried about slipping. I'm worried that people will think of me differently when I'm sober and might like me less--which is entirely conceivable, but not as plausible as one might think. I'm actually more sensitive to other people when I'm sober; when I'm drunk, I'll say whatever comes to my head, regardless of whether it might hurt feelings or spill secrets. There are also more worries on my mind, but it would be impossible to reveal them here without revealing the identity of the friend who has trusted me with her secrets, which would be entirely unfair to her. The point of the whole thing, really, is that there are a lot of fears for me to face this Spring.

Basically, it's time for me to gird my loins. Time to put on the big girl panties and learn how to deal. I'm not thrilled at the prospects ahead of me, but I've faced tougher times than this in my life. I know I can make it through. I might just need some periodic moments to bitch about how afraid I am of failure. But then, I'm a perfectionist. Sometimes, I need to check and make sure that my standards are within normal parameters and not Jessica parameters. Is there some unit of measure for these things? Can someone just get me a guidebook for this life or something? Please?