There is this strange and awkward phase in life called adolescence in which the quest for understanding and accepting one’s self is priority. You spend so many years trying to be someone and then one day you realize that you just… are. You are yourself. There is no more trying, you just are who you are. I think this is even more strange and awkward. There are fewer questions, more facts. I am a morning person. I get incredibly ornery when I am sleepy. I enjoy the company of people, but I need alone time every day. I do not like meeting new people unless I am in control of the situation. There is no more figuring out. Well, there is the occasional surprise, but mostly I know myself so well that I feel somewhat predictable. When things get predictable, I like to shake them up. I thrive on structure, but I embrace change. So, what change will come? My life has changed so much already in the past six months, but I am ready for more. It’s just my personality.
a self was waiting May 14, 2008
“It wasn’t only the feeling of being subject to rules I had no interest in and no part in making: you get adjusted to that at school. It was a kind of superstitious panic about the fact that I had actually signed my name, had put my signature to a magic document which seemed to bind me to a future so far ahead I couldn’t think about it. Somewhere in front of me a self was waiting, pre-formed, a self who had worked during innumerable years for Seymour Surveys and was now receiving her reward. A pension. I foresaw a bleak room with a with a plug-in electric heater. Perhaps I would have a hearing aid, like one of my great-aunts who had never married. I would talk to myself; children would throw snowballs at me. I told myself not to be silly, the world would probably blow up between now and then; I reminded myself I could walk out of there the next day and get a different job if I wanted to, but that didn’t help. I thought of my signature going into a file and then the file going into a cabinet and the cabinet being shut away in a vault somewhere and locked.”
Margaret Atwood, The Edible Woman
when it rains, it pours May 2, 2008
My cousin, Jonathan Keasler, was killed yesterday morning in a car accident near TCHS. The driver, Houston Sexton, was badly hurt but is still alive. Please pray for our family and please pray for Houston and his family. Not only will Houston have to heal physically, but he will also have to heal emotionally. Jonathan was eighteen years old and a senior at TCHS.
My family needs a break. We have had four deaths in the past year and a half, but this one is by far the hardest.