In's and Out's

     I have been having a rough week so far, and so I am quite a bit stressed at the moment, which is why I am probably blogging just to type on my keyboard. My dad is playing hairband on his big ass mac with surround sound, loud enough that it is drowning out my iPod though the headphones are securely in my ear. Normally I like hairband, but I can only take so much when I am already freaking out, the beat of the music causes my heartbeat to speed up, and well that just ends in a headache, and me becoming easily more emotional. So this little blog is just going to be an in's and out's when it comes to me. Sorry, it's not that interesting, but it works for me.

OUT'S(or stuff that makes me want to punch something)

• My Ankle- Well at least now I can bike for fifteen minutes and walk, but still, I want to go to a batting cage, I want to throw a ball, hell I even want to run a mile. So until it is fully fixed, it being injured is out. 
• Roommates moving out- I know its a situation out of our control, but I don't want to lose my roomie for the rest of the semester.  
• Shopping- I love it, I have gift cards, I just can't use them until I figure out what I need and where I will be living. Besides most of the stuff I want, when I actually go to the store and look at it, is chintzy and will probably get eaten in the washer. 
• Sister/Cory Cuteness- I know that Ian and I are normally all up and cutsey cuddling when I come home, but its because I don't see him for a few months. Now I see them every day, and night, and I want to gag. Along with that, I apologize for anyone who wants to gag at the sight of me and ian, its well deserved.  
• Lou Martin-I am free, with an A, but free. And it was not me who caused the curve, though I got a 93, it was not me. 
• PT with Blanda- Yeah, they changed doctors at the PT I go to and my favorite two are gone, No more Ammy and No more James, and he was a cutie who knew me. In fact I was the repeat offender, now no one there has no idea what it means.  
• Borders Giftcards- I am not saying that I don't love Borders, its the fact that I love it too much. I was addicted, once-twice a week, twenty dollars a visit, I was worse than a crack addict, and now I have money for Borders after going through Borders Anonymous, I need to find my sponsor(SARA)... 
• My Good Computer Crashing- yeah, Sony, please quit, I know you are a good almost five years old, but please, don't leave me with this Hp, I need you! 

IN'S(or stuff that I am loving at the moment)

• Pore Strips- yep, I finally did it, I found a way to make them for cheap using milk and unflavored gelatin, vegans, I apologize but seeing as its a good five dollars less for a whole lot more, I am not complaining. 
• BH Cosmetics Eyeshadow Palette- Yes, I finished my cold turkey project,  I had used a lot of my make up and had to trash a couple mascaras(no more than three months after opening, its probably what caused my eyes to psych out for a short while there). I cannot wait until I get back to school to pick this up from the post office. 88 pure colors and a whole lot of fun for me 
• My Grades- 3.4 baby!! And compared to last year, its a whole lot better. (You know how coach would always say there was one girl below a 3.0, well there were two of us, I was one). So now to get that 3.8 and to the 4.0!!! It is my goal, so lets see how well I stick. 
• Pasta Sauce- Just made this awesome and cheap pasta sauce that I can't wait to share with my Chatham girlies.  It's amazing, and completely fauxtalian. 
• Paramore- always in, but I can't stop listening to Playing God and watching the video. 
• Aquafina Flavor Splash lip balm- yummy raspberry scented and I think I apply it every hour(I know thats bad but I don't care). Plus its cooling and tingly, so its just all around happy. 
• 5 lb bag of Skittles- thanks to my booski for this bit of happiness, now only if it was filled only with lemon skittles. That would make my year. Its a bit of sweet happiness everyday 
• Pretty Little Liars- It's almost back!!! Yays!!! 
•  e.l.f. Cosmetics- cheap and highly pigmented and healthy, who wouldn't love it? I can't wait to start messing around with my make up again, in fact I did a mixture of browns Smokey eye this morning which is still holding strong. 

  So there is my ramble to help me relax, sorry if I bored you, though if I did, I would hope that you quit reading long ago, like before I made it through the Out's.

Your's Truely
Laurel Lee

Next Time You Point A Finger

My good computer may be shot, hard drive failure is the preliminary diagnosis. I also have to see the guy who screwed up my ankle in the first place so that I can  have three physical therapy sessions before I head back to pitt. Also, my family wont even let me go to the door to let someone in in fear that I will trip, fall, or re-injure my ankle. Lastly, Ian and I, well we have been good the past few days until well, now. I told him I was afraid of breaking up with him while fighting, he said that if I do that, then I am dumb. Then laughed when I kept trying to tell him what the problem is, ending in him laughing at me while I am being serious, and I called him immature.  He then proceded to yell at me through text message for it.

Not to mention the fact that Holly keeps making a mess out of the house, I keep cleaning it up, and when there is not enough room in the dish strainer, I wait to finish the load until the other ones dry. Well while waiting on that process, my grandpa comes up stairs right as I begin to finish them and says, "So now you decide to clean up your mess". Excuse me, but I have cleaned up after my sister and her boyfriend all day, and have offered to make dinner, do laundry, and you come up and yell at me for holly leaving ham out, and for not doing all the dishes at once because I dont want to break another dish. Wait, Gramps, I believe that it is your egg/omelet pan that stinks up the house every morning, that is left on the stove, that I washed about three hours ago. Or your coffee cup that is crusty at the bottom.

Needless to say, I cannot wait to get back to my apartment, if i had it my way I would be there now. But, I have an interview tomorrow for a scholarship/internship opportunity at the Children's Hospital here. I will hopefully be following the PT department around all summer, and do some research within the department. I know, that there is a chance that I will not get it because I do not go to school in Akron, but that is how it always is. I really hope I get it, its 24 hours a week for ten weeks, with a presentation that I have to give at the end of it. I would also recieve money for school, so I really, really need this. I am really nervous, and freaking out, and everything else here is just making it worse.

Right now, I am going to go pet my dog, and hopefully cook something to calm down tonight.

Crossing My Fingers,
Laurel Lee

Politically Correct

This morning, I woke up to my fathers boisterous voice reading an article from the newspaper out loud. My high school is possibly changing its name, or at least, up until this month it had been possibly, now it truly is. My high school, Akron East High, will no longer be the East Orientals because it is offensive and not pc. Well, looking at the choices they have lined up for the alumni to vote on, I see just the same amount of issues with the names, but I will get to that later. Bob Dyer, a reporter from the Akron Beacon Journal called the name as racist as if we were the East Negroes, or the East Colored people. Yes, we all believe that good old Bob should be shot. 

My family has attended East for generations, My Pappa, his brother, my Aunt Marilyn(the baby of the Homa family according to her), My Nanna on my moms side, my grampa on my moms side, and my mammaw(great grandma) on my dads side all went to East, all carried the Oriental Name. My Pap was a basketball star, my Aunt Marilyn was a cheerleader and Student Council President, even my other grandma(my grandma parker who is actually my neighbors grams, but I claim her too) carried the Oriental name. Up until the superintendent decided it not PC to be the orientals this past year, I have never heard of any issue with any race or ethnicity of my schools treasured name. Never, and East has been the Orientals for at least seventy years.

Now the names we have to choose from, the Corsairs, Dragons, Scarlet Dragons, Red Dragons, Red Knights, Scarlet Knights, they all carry the same exact problems as the name orientals. First off, the question on what every East persons mind is what the hell is a Corsair? Essentially a Corsair is a French Pirate. So now we could have a raping pillaging French nut as our mascot. I hope we don't offend those of French descent, wait, raping and pillaging, such a great message we are sending to our students. Next we have the Dragons, Scarlet Dragons, or the Red Dragons. I'm sorry, is there a reason for the three types of dragons or do we have a discrimination on say silver dragons because its a school color too. There is the fact that it is yet again a creature who gets its legend from being slain by Saint George, being fought by Harry Potter, and pillaging and murdering millions, kidnapping damsels in distress. Yep, same crappy message. Then we have the Red/Scarlet Knights, the same issue with silver comes up, and what are knights known for? Besides the valiant ones we all dream will come and rescue us. In reality the Knights also raped and pillaged and murdered. By the rate this is going, we might as well be the East High School Ted Bundy's, we would be sending the same message. 

So, what exactly is wrong with representing a group of people who gave us fireworks, math, and so many great additions to society. Sure a dragon named Chang as the Mascot maybe a little bit of an issue, but no one in the school has had a problem with it before, nor have they ever outright said anything. In fact the term oriental has no outright bad connotations and is commonly used in Europe. So why can't we be like the Europeans and quit being so politically correct. It gets nothing done. It offends more people because we can't out right say what we want to say, and it makes some conversations extremely awkward. I know our country has had ethnic issues in the past, but it is time to put it all behind us and relax a little. If we don't, pretty soon there will be a war started over calling an Australian and Aussie, a person of Brittish descent a Brit, or even a person from Japan, Japanese, though it is the correct term. No matter what happens, someone is going to take offense, so why change what has been the way for years, something as harmless as a name. Its not like we are saying the those people of Asian descent are horrible people who we enjoy making fun of, no, we treat it as an endeared term. It is who we were for four years of our life, and who we will always be.

Always a Cougar, Always an Oriental,
Yours Truly
Laurel Lee

Ohio is for Wookies

One exam down, and all it does is remind me that Friday, I will be home, in Akron. Well, I will be what everyone wants me to call home, and sure it may be, but to me home is a relative term. Home is where ever you are that you feel safe, warm, happy, relaxed. So in that case I could say my home is on Santa Lucia island. Yeah, I wish. Well right now my home is a combination of three places, part Florida, part Akron, and part Burgh. Needless to say, I almost wish I was staying here in the burgh over the holiday, though I would need to be with my family. I am just confused as to how awkward Akron is going to be when I get there. Well for one, Ian and I, well we are going on break once January 3rd hits. I think it will give me some time for me to fix myself, he thinks its just me running even farther away from everything in Akron. I think I need some time away from him, since he really is what I am normally stressed about, he thinks I am a bipolar psycho bitch. Yeah, I think we need the break.

My sister's boyfriend moved into my house. Yes, he is eighteen, she is seventeen, and yes, he has his own bedroom. Still, its the point that I will be constantly surrounded by cuteness unless either of them is at work, Then I may have a break. Of course, my dog has become a manwhore, he is now attempting to sleep with Corey, and I am a little offended. I mean, Chinook, my wookie, my booski's nookie cookie is sleeping with another person, a guy, and not on my bed. What if my feet get cold? Who is going to toss him his squeaky cow when Corey goes to basic in hopefully june? Not me, not if he is leaving me for some boy. This move puts the testosterone levels even to the estrogen levels in my house, unless my Angel comes inside. I swear that bunny has more estrogen then all of us girls combined. She scares the dog, I am not kidding, my Wookie is scared of her. Back to the subject at hand though, its wierd, do I buy this kid a christmas gift? Will he have a stocking on my Mom's fireplace? Will he remember that there are women in the house and put the seat down? I mean, the only thing I even know is that he is a cross country runner in the ROTC program, and he is in my house, in a room that a good twelve years ago used to be my own room. Who knows, maybe great gramma's ghost will get him, I mean it was her room before it was mine, and after it was mine.

Next is that my Grandpa, who has lived in the basement of my house for the past seven years is moving down to Florida for a few months. Sure, it is something I am kind of used to because the man is never in Ohio during the winter, if he is, it's for like two days. But its the fact that he is actually moving his stuff out of the basement and to the Florida home that my parents plan to move into once Holly graduates in 2012. It's kind of weird to think that they are moving, to Florida. On the plus I could have a nice place to go on winter break, and see my Aunt Maryilyn. She is a fun individual to be around, and puts eight year olds to shame with the amount of energy she has. You know when you were younger the kids at reccess who were hyped up on sugar and basically moving at the speed of light through the playground, well that energy cant shine a light to that of my 70 year old great aunt. Just a warning, shopping with her takes all day, and you hit a good eighty stores. So my grandpa is moving which means my nanna will be over everyday. SO it doesnt sound like a bad thing, but my nanna, is a ditz. She used to be this strong capable woman, and now, every time she is over, Holly and I have to explain what the use of the old mail button is for on her email. Her and my gramps divorced a really long time ago, but she still hasnt gotten over it, grampa however, well he is a little pimp. Seriously, the man goes clubbing more then the biggest sluts in akron.

So yeah, home, I really dont know how awkward it is going to be, and it doesnt help that two of my friends there are leaving. My buddy Rozzykins is getting married on monday, and then moving to Texas to be with her Brentt. He is an army boy, and well, as long as she is happy I guess. Well I think I would rather scream dont do it, but I know better. My sister, my jessca is moving in with her man in Arizona as he is also a millitary man. I was fine with her in Columbus, but she isn't one to do something so rash, so quickly. It took her a good five visits to OWU to figure out if it would be okay for her to go there, and now oh I am just going to up and move to Arizona. I have no idea whats out there, but if my lover is there it will be okay. That is the mentality she has, and I don;t think I can deal with it. I mean, I know I left first out of my friends, coming out here and being more than just happy, so its kind of selfish of me to want them to stay where they are, when I know its not fair. I guess I just have to make the best of what little time I have with them before they leave.

Some Crazy Guys

High School; though it may be past all of us, we all have our happy and not so happy memories, whether it be homecoming dances, canned food drives, early mornings and late nghts in science club or yearbook or NHS, going to football games just for the band(and the fact that the pads made some of the boys butts look nicer).

Alas, there are a few things I miss that I swore I would never. I miss awkward gym classes with Jeremy, Adam, and Trevor. I miss lunch times at the table with Jazz, Amber, Kieta, Bobby, Ashley, Sara, Tina and Matt(squirrel). I miss precalc in Myers class with the student instructors who lost our whole classes respect by treating us like kindergartners on the first day. I miss science club meetings, then running down to yearbook and back. I miss hanging out the the Attendance secretary's office all day when Akron U was off from class(and all thursdays because I only had one class at the high school). I miss Henley Hell, and of course skipping down the hall with my booski'sarm in my hand, singing about love, or chasing after her with her screaming "she's after my lucky charms!'

Most of all, I miss a certain group of guys called The Pilgrhims. They were probably the dorkiest boys, but all of them played at least one sport, were in all of my honors classes(besides bentley and lawerence), and sat next to us in the cafeteria everyday. They were jerks, stupid, sweet, smart, fun to talk to, and of course one of them just happened to be my high school crush. I still talk to a few of them, my Girgy, and sometimes my Adam, but thats about it. A good portion of them were in student  council which made saturday last minute decorating fun, and in Miss Williams class, though that woman was a bitch at time, I pity her for what they did. I also pity Kertoy though he is probably the one teacher they looked up too. I miss Matt/Tiger, who was always eccentrically special with his oldies music and jazz band skills, along with football. He was always fun to talk to, and if you really needed advice, he was probably the best. There was David(king of the jwahs), whom was my first major crush which lasted up through junior year, when I met Ian. David was the biggest jerk ever, but he could be serious if he wanted to be, that boy had a brain on his shoulders, and probably the second best butt on the football team. On further analysis, the football player with the best butt would have to be a cross between Matt and Bentley, and this is not only my opinion people. I miss Bentley and how he would get pissed off at the simplest things. There was Andy who was great to talk to about the littlest things, as he always seemed to know what was going on. There are of course a few more, Adam(one of my best guy friends) whom is affectionately called Boo though he hates it. I miss talking to him about anything, and arguing with him in class, and how everyone kept pushing us to date through the first few years of high school. There is my Girgy/Greg, whom I still talk to at least three times a week about anything. There is Dexter who is probably the whitest black guy ever. He is also super intelligent to the point that we wonder why he never bragged about it.

We all have things we miss from those four years of hell called high school, but to me, I miss those guys almost most of all. Sure they were teasing JerkWadAssHoles(JWAH's) but hey, it was part of their game. It was what made them, well them. So, yet again, I cannot believe I just wrote a blog about them, I have no idea where it came from, but I guess its just because I miss them, and know that they will never ever ever read this.

Comin' Clean

Some day's I believe I put too many details of my life into these blogs, and others I honestly do not think I put enough. The balance of personal and intimate depends on the day, on  my stress level, on how I am feeling that day. I do not write these to get attention, but to let it all out, to breathe, to purify myself in a way that exercising normally would do, but can't at this time. I won't lie, some of the stuff I write, as true as it is, gives me shivers down my skin. Not from the amount of pressure I put onto myself, but the absence of that feeling as it leaves through my finger tips to the keyboard in front of me. The release of the pressure inside that would normally get held in until I become an emotional freak. This is my release, and because of it, i am slightly healthier then I would be if I was not writing every so often, if I was holding it in, hiding the pain and annoyance away from the rest of the world. I cry or laugh or smile as I write each and every blog, the feeling of the pressure laving the body is amazing, relaxing, meditating, and almost as good as practicing your heart out for an hour or too. You know that good soreness, the exhaustion that comes not only from a good workout, but by putting every little fiber of your being into it? That's what writing does for me, its my other release. (yes, I am crying as I write this)

Now the only question is why blogging, why not journal it in a small notebook that no one would ever see? I blog it because of the thrill that someone else may read this and use it to their own advantage, that they may learn from my mistakes, arguments, or the possibility of a success and better their own life from it. Or for the occasional laugh at a corny joke made here or there, the irrationality of being afraid of basements, or the thoughts of what Barbie would truly be like. I blog it all to give myself an announcement to the world, letting know that hey, I am not ever going to be the perfect little girl my parents dreamed of, or the dream girl to bring home to mom.

That is why I blog the things I do, the release, the relaxation that comes after my cheeks are dripping tears and typing at the same time, the thought and thrill of maybe someone like me feeling the same things and reading. Its the burst of emotion and power coming out of my fingers and into this small bit of web real estate. Its the things I cannot physically say out loud, but I need to get out anyways. Therapists always say that the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem, well this is my admittance. This is my piece of the world where I can imagine and believe that someone is listening to me, and to be honest, it is better than therapy. Here I cry, laugh, and watch my dreams come into bloom by getting my insecurities out into the open where I can then rationalize them and realize how flawed they are. So here goes the plunge, into the deep, into the unknowing, but I can at least think that someone will be there to catch me as I fall. My name is Laurel Lee Homa, and I have a problem...

birthdays and looking in the mirror

Birthdays are times where you should be happy to have aged, right? Well this one for me was not. Sure I loved that everyone who even knew me blew up not only facebook, but my phone with text messages. And of course, I am still waiting for my dad's "you used to be my little baby girl and would sleep on my chest and you was soo cute and adorable" speech that I get every year exactly at 9:18 AM, yes it is my wakeup call, he would even do it when I was in high school. Yes, my phone did go off in class the one time, and yes I did get yelled at for it(but being a good kid has its perks and my phone was not confiscated). But to me, my birthday is just another year older, away from my childhood, and into the world of all seriousness and bills, and everything else that comes from being older.  It's a move into a future of bosses, careers, bitchy patients who don't want to work to regain strength, and of course, living on my own with little help. It really just makes me miss those days of sledding down Metro hill with my dad, my huskies tackling me when I came home from third grade, recess, friends who only cared about who had the best looking barbie doll, who got to play Sporty Spice, when boys had cooties, and everything else that comes with a care free childhood.

Birthdays give us a chance to look back on the last year and see if we are living our lives to the fullest. They let us see if we have changed any, and because of this, I spent the first forty-six minutes of my birthday crying. If you want proof, ask Ian, he had to calm me down last night over the phone, and I was still crying after I hung up on him. You see, I do no like what I did last year. I gained thirty pounds(15 of which I have lost again[I can fit into my khaki's again!]), I kept myself secluded from everyone, I didn't to well grade wise(not as well as I would have liked), I blew threw my savings in six months(this year I did it again on stuff I actually needed though), I injured myself in the stupidest way for a third baseman, and because of that injury I have spent seven months doing nothing(well some practicing on an injured ankle, thank you Dr. Blanda), said ankle injury has had me depressed for the past few months. I hate myself in ways that a person should love themselves. The way I see myself in the mirror is deff off, as according to some of my beloved akron people, I am the most gorgeous girl they know(I think they are exaggerating), and I see myself as fat, ugly, and fat(yes that is listed twice on purpose). I guess it doesn't help that the one thing I like about myself, is the part that the person who claims I am gorgeous does not. I think I have nice legs, he thinks they are too hulkish(well only one is too hulkish now).

When I was at home, I found two books which I had to bring back with me from my shelves at home(okay, I have three bookshelves filled, while my sister has half of one, so finding a meaningful book is not that easy). One is 'Thoughts to Share with a Wonderful Daughter' and its a hallmark book. That one contains letters and poems which my remind me of my mom. I can see her thinking some of the things in there, and it makes me feel better when I need her and she is not around. I also found "The Girls Guide To Loving Yourself", which I really need to start reading again as my last paragraph proves. It has one passage which I love about barbie, "If barbie was a real girl she would reach for a giant ice cream sunday and fall over due to her tiny bodies inability to hold up her gigantic breasts", and though I have not read it in a while, I can still recite that exact quote. There was a time where I knew how to love me for who I am, but something happened and I just don't anymore.I think it happened sometime during high school, and after that I have had the same crappy opinion of myself.

I compliment other people because I cannot compliment myself. I tell them that something on them is cute or pretty when it is, because I cannot give myself any credit. I am surrounded by the most beautiful girls I know all day, and I can't even come close to being as pretty as them in my own mind. It's just how I am now I guess. I know that deep down, everyone has something about them that they want to change, but I doubt that they all want to change every fiber of their being. I remember at one time feeling skinny and pretty but the last time I felt that was eighth grade.  My mom has a picture of me from confirmation a very long time ago, and to this day I still tell her that the girl in the picture is too pretty to be me.

So here is too self loving improvement, and maybe eventually being happy with me. I am making that my goal this year, and I hope to achieve it. I love you all, and I believe you are all gorgeous. Liv always has the prettiest curls(even when her hair is short and adorable), Alison has a killer smile, and so does Abby. Sara has the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen. Kate and Julia just need to leave because they both have killer bods. Elise has a gorgeous face structure, Jul is also counted into the killer bod portion, and Natalie is just plain gorgeous. Alex has the prettiest wavy hair, and Cubs is well Cubs. She has the best personality to be around, and of course you can put a paper bag on her as a dress and she would pull it off quite nicely though she looks best in vintage. 

Yours Truly
Laurel Lee


* here is the passage I was talking about earlier.

                                                      "The Truth About the Plastic Princess
        You grew up playing with Barbie, with her perfect pink dresses and incredibly astounding posture, her awesome golden locks, teeny tiny waistline, and perfectly perky breasts. You probably wanted to be just like her when you grew up.

        Now you're old enough to know the truth. Barbie is an unachievable ideal. Thanks to the brilliance of computer technology and numerous rolls of duct tape, this Barbie-look becomes achievable to the girls on many magazine covers. Striving to be like them is a waste of your time, and starving themselves to look like them is a waste of your life. Be proud of who you are, and be the best you can possibly be. And remember this: if Barbie had a heartbeat and roamed the earth, chances are that she'd ask for a big fat ice-cream sundae with lots of whipped cream on top, right before falling over because of her tiny body's inability to hold up her enormous breasts"

Project Time

     So, I have decided to better myself. How you may ask, well its a little project that has been done before and does work if you stick with it. It involves going cold turkey with somethings, and doing more of some other things. Of course the way to do this successfully is baby steps.

     Now for the part that you will not believe, I collect make-up. Really, its true, when I really want to wear it, i know what to do. Highlighter for the cheeks, eyelid primer to keep everything in place, foundation, concealer, four different types of cleanser, three different eyeshadow pallattes with an 88 color one on the way thanks to my loving and wonderful roommate as a combo birthday and Christmas present(hopefully, if not, I will find a way to have it). So, why dont I put it on? Well, I am lazy as fuck in the morning, but I always seem to buy more than I need, and more that I will use. I also do not get rid of the old stuff, or use it till the silver tin is showing with the old stuff. Which comes to the cold turkey project. After today, I found a really good deal on the stuff that I use the most when I do wear it, I am not buying anything more in the cosmetic departments(yes that includes bath stuff too, =[ ), until I use up completely twenty of the things I currently have clogging up my make-up bag and drawer. I figure, hey it will help me save the money I do not have, and maybe motivate me to actually try to look cute on more than one occasion. Maybe I will wake up earlier, who knows.

    I also seem to collect school supplies, and buy more when I still have a bunch left. I guess I get this trait from my nanna. So, I am going to do the same thing, no buying any until I get rid of a good three quarters of it. Plus, it will help me save paper, and somewhat of the environment that I am ruining with all my chemicals on my face and body that constantly go down the drain.  So yes, there is the cold turkey part of the project, though it is not exactly cold turkey, just for a little while.

    Next up, is training myself to be a better student and all around person. I have done this before with being more optimistic and positive, and I think I did succeed with that. Now I am going to work on my study habits because waiting till the weekend before the test really does not work for me. So, seeing as I am in buhl for a good amount of the day where I am doing nothing on the computer. I am going to start small and devote one hour of that time to studying any subject. Maybe I can incorporate it into my time in the apartment. Who knows if it will work, but it does not hurt to try. So if you see me, tell me to get my ass back to studying in between chem and anatomy(10:20-11:20).

  So here is to working on this between the rest of this semester and next semester. Here is to a better me, and here is too a more frugal and smarter me as well.

I'm Moving On

     I have afraid to be me for far too long. Of course, the me here at Chatham is the real me, it's the one at home that is not. I guess I am just afraid that the ones at home wont like the me that I have changed into, the me that is not the normal small town girl. To me, Chatham is freedom, freedom from those who constantly berate me with their own thoughts of how I should live, how I should be. Hell two of the ones back at home are still mad that switched majors from Biology to Exercise Science(like that is a whole huge change anyways).

      At home, I am this subservient little girl who has no idea's of her own, just the constant aggreeance with her parents in order to keep things how they like it. I am not very neat, but always doing my best to please them, not to mention trying to be the perfect child. Yeah, right. I hung out with all the good smart kids(wait I still do that), and of course studied a good 24/7, much to my sisters disapproval. I was always in bed by ten at most, at home by eight unless I was working, and I worked both in a mall for a short while, then to fast food for a little while longer. I was a complete science geek, with no social life, few friends, and of course, a love for softball that could not be explained. Some of those things are still the same, but there are still quite a few things that are different. I used to be outspoken, and like it. I used to listen to everything anyone seen as a higher power would say, and agree with it. I know, I know, I was a kiss ass. A major kiss ass, and whenever I go home, I am still that person.

     But, when I am on campus, I regain my voice. I gain a bunch of confidence, and I use my words. I make people want to yell shut up on occasion. I am me, I am confident, I am everything my boyfriend hates when I am out here.  I become this me that I enjoy, not one who cares about what everyone else thinks. Without a doubt, I am my best when I am at school. Sure there may be some weekends where I am deff not, but hey, those are rare. I guess to me, getting out of Akron is what does it, getting away from all of those who keep those expectations. It is what helps me be the real me, I only wish they could see that. But I hide it every time I go home because I am afraid of what they will think. I care more of what they think then of my own feelings towards the subject.

    When it comes down to it, I have to show the real me, not the little ballerina nerd that they have always known. Sure it may come as a surprise to them that I have thoughts, but it will be a nice change, and a chance. A chance to truly be the one everyone here see's and they do not. I'm moving on in my life, and its time they see it.

Passion

  The amazing thing about the human condition, is that we have a fire burning within us all. We all contain a passion for some thing or another, a passion that drives us to do not only our best, but to succeed at all costs. 

  Today I spent by both studying for anatomy lab, and watching Legally Blonde 1 and 2. Of course that is not a productive way to study, but miraculously I did get somewhere on both ends, as I had been losing my passion for a while now. It's funny how a movie, with fictional characters, a girl with amazing hair, and a dream can somehow bring you back to your own dreams, your own passion. My goal in life, which used to be so prominent, has seemed out of my grasp no matter how much I tried, because, for a while, I lost my passion. Now, after watching Elle Woods not only get Bruiser's Bill passed, but get married to her dream man, I have realized why I am doing this, why I am spending my Sunday by studying my ass off for lab. Lab!

  My passion is derived from my love of athletics, my love of how the human body moves to create this art that can only be explained by the artists own passion. Dance is an art, with the way the body moves to create an intricate expression placed to music. Its an expression of the soul. Softball is an art; the body moving in sync to how a ball moves, running from one base to another, the circular motion of the pitchers arm, the footing of the shortstop as she creates a double play, the graceful arc that is the swing of a bat, all put to the sounds of the birds, the fans, and the smells of the earth and the grass. Basketball with its painted floor's, nets of shiny white material that reflect softly along the sheeny floor. Players that run in certain times, the arc of the ball as it is either passed, dribbled, or into the net. Soccer, football, volleyball, golf, badminton, cross country, and every other sport is an art form, and expression shown from the movements of the artists whom are the subject of their own pieces. My passion is to be the subject, to use my body in a way that can be seen as an art form to those who are watching, though they may only see the competition at hand.

  Even if I cannot always be a subject of the expression, I can always be part of the background driving force. I can be a part of a players passion by coaching, which I do now, and I can do this by being a Physical Therapist, which is my ideal career.  I can keep the fire in the eyes of a young artist by rehabilitating them back onto their playing field of choice, whether it be a gymnasium, a stage, a field, or even a swimming pool. I may not always be the artist, but I can be part of the equipment used to keep the athlete going. Sure it sounds strange, but if the player is the canvas, then I would be just a brush, touching up on the damaged parts, improving them, fixing them, making the art piece strong again. It's why I am here in the first place, and why I am majoring in Exercise Science, and why I am spending my Sunday(I could be having a spa day) studying for an anatomy lab quiz which is only worth forty points. It's why I am sitting on this futon with my leg elevated, as a surgeon has done his best to repair part of the artwork that is me, and now its up to me to rest it until it is ready to be drug along the rusty red dirt of the pitching circle, to be twisted after a swing and a solid hit, to step on first base as I am bananaing out and around, though my running may be slow. It's that art that drives me to become a PT, and to keep on helping those who want to show off their own art, though injured they may be.

  So, thank you Elle Woods, you have reminded me that in order to keep going on, I need to remember my passion no matter how small. I need to have my own "bend and snap" to keep the curiosity of the thing I love kept onto my own ways. It is not the people around you who make you passionate, it is yourself. You are the driving force of your own passion, and that is the way it is meant to be. Be your own form of passion, your own form of art, it will help you along your journey.

Paper Cuts and Damsel in Distress Syndrome

     Our past works all have hints of us in them, whether it be an art project, a fanfiction, a story, an essay, or even just a simple song we used to always sing. They all have a piece of us in them, a piece of us that relates to that specific time period in our lives. This weekend, I was looking at some of my old writings, fictions of my own, and fictions that are just fan based, made into my own story with incorporations of other writers. I will not lie, my old emails include sesshomarusprincess006, and sesshysoftball006, and svennybaby006. Very creative right?(insert sarcasm). By posting this, I am giving you permission to judge, I even had a fanfiction account, and wrote on it just about weekly with several stories, and in all of them, I realized one main thing this past weekend; I needed laid, badly. As my booski puts it with a two word saying I have heard a lot over my high school career, paper cut. Meaning that I was so entranced by these men of fictional orientation that not only was I writing stories about them, but the female lead was, well, me. I lived, breathed, and dreamt of these wonderful, villainous men(the rebellious, stoic, bad boy with longer hair still is my dream man). It was both embarrassing, and invigorating.

    I have also realized how much of the damsel in distress syndrome(DDS) I had. The main character was always being saved by these men, and now its just like why should I wait for Prince Sexy when I can do this by myself. I was not necessarily weak, but definitely a wimp. I guess some of my friends helped me stay that way for a long time, but it changed, evolved, and shaped me from that girl of early middle school/late high school, to the woman that I am today. Sure the characters had the overtone of the stubbornness I still have today, but still, something would happen and in would come Prince Sexy Rebel with a change of heart and a protection complex to save the newly submissive character from her doom. Today, I say screw that; screw Prince Sexy Rebelious Charming.  He is not what I need, not in the least.

     Its nice to think of one day having this Prince Charming, but its more of a romantic thought. A thought of the big, strong, sexy, enchanting man who will never exist in real society without being jailed for assualt multiple times. It's nice to think of being a Damsel in Distress, having to be saved from danger because Prince Charming will always be there to save you, no matter what. Its romantically satisfying to think like that, and to keep the dream going, though we all know it will not happen. Sure we may find those who are close, but never exact to our Prince Sexy standards, and it you do, then I envy you.

      I guess when it comes down to it, we all change and evolve to those we are near, and to our own changing standards of the day. We become not necessarily better, but somehow improved to our conditions and lives. I still have that same Damsel inside of me, but she has become more of a Warrior Princess over time. Working to keep me sane, and get me through my hardships, as no man is going to do it for me. They may try, but I am stubborn, and thus will get pissed and kick their asses if they try too much. So all I can say is embrace you as you are now, and know that in time, it may change for better or worse, and that your inner child will always be there, with thoughts of dragons, sexy demons, villains, good men(which are mythical creatures by the way), toys, old friends, and happy memories. So now if you will excuse me, I need to convince someone of maybe wearing a long silver blonde wig for halloween next year.

 

Closets and Basements and Fire Oh My!

Fear, an irrational distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. 

We all feel fear in some way or another, and I guess I have quite a few fears. Fear compels us all in ways that we do not understand, for those afraid of drowning, well you miss out on quite a pool parties in our youths, and probably get made fun of for that fear. Me, well I am afraid of burning to death, closets, and basements. Don't ask me why, but closets being open scares me, so mine is always closed by the time I get into bed. If not, then I freak out and do not sleep until it is shut.  It is really irrational, but the fact that you can put something in a closet just to get it out of the way and forget about it scares me. I looked into my closet here the other day, and I completely forgot my sex boots were in there. I also hate when something falls in the closet because it was stacked wrong, I think someone, or something is in there and it scares me to death. 

My greatest fear is basements, cold, clammy, damp, old, slightly smelly basements. All basements have the same earthy smell to me, even if they are clean, and warm, and slightly inviting, they still hold a tinge of an earthy smell of death. You can place something in a basement, and no one would ever know. I mean, it is easy to banish something to a basement to never be seen again. Where do you put your old prom clothes?, box in the basement. The old toolbox, the workshop in the basement. Your old documents that you may not need anymore but can't get rid of?, into the basement you go. The dead body of the man you raped and murdered, into the basement freezer you go. The basement is a storage place of forgetting made in hell to scare the youngins who open a box that holds their parents old playboys or sex toys.(No, I never found these, I do not know if they exist, and I do not want to know). Basements are my least favorite thing to walk through, especially in older homes. Old homes creak, and crackle with every few steps, they groan, and moan, and have boilers, washers and dryers that had to be bought directly from the set of a horror movie with all the sounds they make. Sure it is irrational, but it is my fear. 

Fear is that irrational, yet slightly understandable feeling we get when something is extremely creepy. We all have them, we all face them, even if it means running up the stairs after doing laundry, or taking a very short bubble bath, wading in a kiddy pool, or lighting a match. Fear rules over us in some way, because even if we face them, do we ever not have the slight feeling of 'Oh my god, what am I doing, I am going to die' every time we walk by what constitutes our fear? So while you all ponder that, I am going to make sure my closet door is shut so I can see my manatee poster, and hope that I have enough clean clothes to last the week.

Ugh...

I cannot let anyone help me, its one of my greatest faults, and its the reasons I was sitting on the steps besides Buhl crying earlier. I hate it when people are nice to me because I am injured, or out of pity, my head hates it. My pride and ego are too large to just let me swallow them and ask for help. If they weren't then I guess I would not have fallen down the stairs earlier. Yes I fell down them, didn't hurt anything, just scared myself as I set the bad foot down hard, and scared the crap out of Ian who yelled at me for doing everything by myself.

I have never been yelled at for doing things by myself, and I could have sworn being independent is what most people want you to be. But I guess I just really need to start asking for help, though I don;t know how. It's weird, awkward, and I like to do things by myself, my way. Which that whole thing has started quite a few fights, as everyone in the DeWitt-Homa clan is that way. Its funny just to get my dad and my grandpa in the same room working on the same thing, without a female there to beat them, it just does not end well. Its funny, the men are afraid of us more than they like to argue.

this is me asking for help, as I can not do this on my own, if I could, I probably would not be writing this, and probably would have a giant gash in my forehead from falling up or down the steps. I cannot have another break down because of my ankle, the one on those steps was the third one of the day. I am slightly depressed, and def pmsing. I need help, but I can't bring myself to ask it.

I hate having people help me

I hate it when I need help to do the simplest things, such as right now while Ian is making me a bagel, a bagel. A very simple task indeed. I hate that right now I need help for even the smallest movements, seeing as I cant even get the band on my sweats to go over my ankle, which when I try hurts like freaking hell. I know I will be grumpy and snappy this week, because I like being an independent person who can do what she wants, when she wants, not wait ten minutes so that I can get dressed in the morning because no one is up yet. I hate it. I hate that my ankle is killling me slowly, through pain, through me being grumpy and pushing people away because I do not like accepting help from others though right now I have to swallow my pride and just do it.

So you may have wondered why I created this entirely new blog. Well for starters I was beginning to lose it because it used the wrong email, and mainly for that reason Is why I switched. I know, I know, its a petty reason, seeing how I have the new one set up the same exact way. I guess I just needed a slight change, which is something I normally get by moving around the furniture. Creating a new blog is just that, its me changing my cyberspace furniture.

This blog is mainly an apology today, for all the reasons stated above, but more. I am sorry to whomever I snap at, I really don't mean it, I am just on the edge and out of my routine, and because the percosett does not kick in as quickly as I would like. I am sorry if I am grumpy, pissy, annoying, yelly, shouty, and everything else that comes with a two year olds temper tantrum. Sorry everyone, I do still love you all, and that giant basket that you did not have to make. But I do love it.

Give Me A Sign

So as you all may know, I struggle with relationships(if the fiance while first coming into college didn't tell you that, I hope you get smacked with a shovel.) and currently I am wonderign if everything is even worth it. I don't know if I am in love anymore, I think I say it more out of routine and comfort. I know he is holding on through everything because to him, I am the only thing he will ever want or need, but I am not so sure of that. Quite frankly, I believe I am much too chubby, and bitchy for him. I believe that he needs someone who isn't so bipolar or easily frustrated because that is exactly what I am with him, constantly.

Recently I told him everything going through my mind about that concept, and the whole I don;t know if I still love him thing. We decided that since I was tired of constantly hurting him, that we would try to sneak out of the routine that we fell into. Maybe I was just too comfy with the thought of us. Well as of last nights long phone call about dinosaurs, and family guy, with a hint of favorite food types(any food that mixes Chinese and chicken is good by me), and just stuff besides "Hi honey how was your day, I went to blah blah, bought some blahs, and finally studied blah". And guess what, that was the first phone call that I did not want to go out and make out with any random man in pittsburgh. So who knows, maybe that is all we need, and if not, at least it is a start. Oh and for those who want to laugh, he claims that he is going to carry me up the stairs in the morning. My bet is five steps before failing. Maybe it is all we needed, to get out of the routine, get out of the same old same old, and to almost make our relationship shiney and new instead of old and tarnished.