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November 7, 2001

I am feeling mad at myself and mad at the world right now. It's a vicious combination. And I know that writing about my feelings will probably help me resolve them, but these aren't the kind of feelings I want to share. At least, I am not in the mood for sharing.

Sometimes I wish that I was a complete extrovert. That I had the guts and the gall to say whatever I was thinking and feeling without fearing the consequences. But I always feel the oppression of potential embarrassment. I am way too hard on myself. The smallest misstep, something that some other person might not even notice or perceive as a misstep, haunts me for the rest of the day. I need constant reassurance that people do like me, or I will find a way to believe they don't, that I had imagined every nice gesture. Or I will believe that I had somehow destroyed their tenuous affection by saying or doing something stupid.

I want to think that I can have a fresh start here, since no one entering this place has any preconceptions of me. So far, it seems to have been working pretty well in most cases, but somehow, I can't seem to escape myself. For some reason, I always hold myself back.

What I'd really like is for someone to just give me a hug and tell me everything is okay.


November 20, 2001

I figured I better do some updating of this before the month finally expires. That's not to say I have been idle in the meantime -- I recently added my Harry Potter paper to Writing: Essays and I also added a survey to the Autobiography section. I think I will be expanding that section even more in the future. I'd like to add some fun stuff and maybe some more pictures -- this time of people other than me.

I don't have much to do tonight for a change. Well, I suppose I have stuff to do -- but vacation begins tomorrow, so I feel l like beginning my time off a little early. Why bother packing tonight -- it can be done tomorrow. Ah, yes, I live by the slacker creed.

I think I might clear off my hard drive tonight and start putting together some playlists with tracks from my CDs, so I can burn some mixes when I get home. Hmm, what is home now? It's going to feel strange being a guest in my own home tomorrow. I can't deny it; I've settled in here. I live here. Home seems pretty far away. I suppose it's a good thing to have adjusted, since I will be spending so much time here over the next four years. Yet it has all the markings of a BIG STEP. God knows how I love those.

I'm not sure I'm really looking forward to going back home. I feel torn. I mean, I'm going to miss everything and everyone here -- sure, I won't be gone very long, but I'm already thinking ahead to the several weeks I'll be snowbound in Erie come winter break. Also, I'm definitely not looking forward to the grilling I'm going to get when I go home on all things related to my life here. Nosy, nosy, nosy -- it will be hellish! And you know, I just don't want to talk about everything. I still think some things are personal, and I think that much of my life is nobody's business unless I choose to volunteer the information.

On the other hand, it'll be great seeing all my old friends again and catching up a little. Not to mention the Barenaked Ladies concert Adelle and I just got tickets to! That ought to be a great show, they're some funny guys. Definitely performers. Of course, some of my favorite BNL songs are the more serious ones. "When I Fall" -- I don't know, but it gets to me.

Moving on ... I've been thinking about how my words and actions are perceived lately. I am almost afraid to speak my mind sometimes, because I question my motives. I don't want to let myself shy away from people again, but then, sometimes I think perhaps I overcompensate. Okay, even I'm not sure what I'm talking about now. But this is really the reason why I'm starting to dread going home. If anything can make me drop everything and run, it's the constant criticism of family and friends.

Sorry if that seems vague ... but it's deliberately unclear. My web site has suddenly captured my friends' interest, and the knowledge that people will actually read this makes me somewhat reticent.


November 22, 2001

Odd how these entries seem to cluster near the ends of the months. I forget to write for a while, and then when I finally manage an update, it opens the floodgates.

Of course, I'm writing this now, in the small hours of Thanksgiving morning, but who knows when you will have opportunity to read it. I have been deprived of my internet connection. Right now, I'm sitting by our home computer, my notebook on my lap, waiting for some miracle to occur. Almost the first thing out of my mother's mouth when I got off the plane today was "You arrived just in time, my Internet is down again." Oh, hurray, I get to spend my vacation -- "vacation" -- troubleshooting that stupid machine. As if I really knew what was wrong with the thing. That computer has been trouble ever since we first turned it on. Well, perhaps not that early, but it almost seems that long now. I booted the machine in safe mode -- something I've been far too familiar with recently -- and I'm now running ScanDisk ... doing a "Thorough" scan. Which, for those unfamiliar with the program, means a really, really long time wasted waiting for the stupid computer to diagnose its problems and fix them. I'm approaching hour three now.

Not only is it incredibly annoying to be asked to fix the computer as soon as I get home, the situation is made worse by my own dependence on the net. I need to be able to connect, not only to upload this page but to talk to all my school friends. I, of course, did not write down any of their phone numbers before I left. I figured I could look them up online ... obviously not heeding the warning phone call from my mother a few days ago when she said she could not even boot the computer. How silly to have thought the problem had been fixed -- it never is.

I don't know whether to hope that my lack of contact won't bother my friends or cause them to worry ... or just the opposite. I mean, I don't want them to be desperately concerned, of course ... but then, I'd hate to think that they weren't even thinking about me. I feel so disconnected right now ... ignore the pun.

I am at home now, if you haven't yet guessed. It was an arduous journey, but I finally made it in sometime after nine or ten Eastern time, I think. I feel so odd. It's almost like nothing has happened between September 13 and now ... as if my whole Northwestern experience was some weird dream. I can feel myself slipping back into old routines ... it's pretty scary. It's all made worse by the fact I can't get a hold of anyone, obviously. I look around the room now, and I wonder what the hell has been going on these past couple months ... was I really living somewhere else? And I wonder what room I will find at the top of the stairs. Is it my room still? Or is my room back at school? Who am I, anyway?

I am confused.

I'm just sitting here and wondering what it is I really miss.


November 26, 2001

I'm back at school now. I nearly fell asleep in my classes today ... I feel like I used to at the end of the school year -- just impatient for them all to be over.

I pretty much wasted time today. I worked on some web pages and played a little Snood and basically avoided reading. I'm going to be doing so much work come Reading Week if I don't pick up the pace soon.

I just finished making my Christmas list, but it's really an exercise in futility since as soon as I mention "clothes" on it, I know that's all I'll be getting.

I've been feeling kind of out of sorts lately. Probably still haven't adjusted back to my life here. It's weird, but going home made me slip back into my old routines and habits ... old bad habits. I'm having trouble getting back in the swing of things here, because I've returned with my old mindset and I need to shed it again. So frustrating ... especially for my friends here, I think.

I just read my friend Kim's web site ... nice to know that someone else is feeling as confused about the "where is home" thing as me.

I wish I could have a firmer grasp of my personality. I feel like people must think I am so inconsistent, but then, maybe I am obsessing over details too much. I wish I knew how I appeared to other people. I can't be objective about myself in the least.

I also wish I could talk about my concerns more easily. I need to talk as openly as I write. I just can't articulate verbally what I am feeling most of the time. Then I get stuck and often say nothing at all, which makes the situation even worse. Until I can improve my speaking abilities, I just hope anyone confused about me reads this and gains at least some insight.


Copyright © 2002 Colleen Fischer | Last updated October 7, 2002