Terror and Sorrow

I am terrified out of my technologically-incompetent mind.
I believe Marisol might have been sliced through and through in the middle of a night of chaos. Dear beloved Marisol, poetess-to-be and singer of my soul,
Stabbed with a knife to the heart while she was sleeping.
Woe is she; woe is me.

[Brief translation: I fear I have lost all my documents, including poetry and other wonderful things that may forever be forgotten.]

Coping--or whining, you decide.

I'm in a downer kind of mood. Missing Peterkin is most of it. Sucking at life is the rest.
haha.

It seems ridiculously unfair that my boyfriend and I only get to see each other for only a few hours at a time every few weeks. = ( I know people suck it up and deal with this all the time, but it doesn't help much. How can you build a relationship over the phone? It's kind of a struggle.

Enough about my love life.

I feel like I'm chained to this country, one arm shackled to Morgantown and the other shackled to Parkersburg. I can't break loose. I can't afford to break away from the hands that feed me and the lives they give me. But how I long to escape! Not simply to take in my own pleasure the world God has created, but to go out and serve, to give myself to people who need me, whom I can help. I want to make the world a better place, even if I change one life. If I make one person's day better, then my day has not been wasted. I feel jealous of these people going out of the country, or even to different parts of the country--I want to do that. So bad. I want to go places and see people. I want to experience everything.
Even if it terrifies me to do so.
I want to escape and bloom and flourish and grow. I wanted to return cultured and astute, informed, worldly and knowledgeable.


How depressing.

I DON'T WANT TO BE EMILY DICKINSON.
I want to go places, see people, do things.
I Want To Live.


I just needed to get that out there.
I know I can live here too. I just really want to go elsewhere for a while, even just once.

Just Because

I have no idea what this post will entail--you have been warned.

Feisty Francesca has returned from rehab, and I am hoping she copes better than Lindsay Lohan and Britney.

I read "Deep Six" and it has me somewhat concerned about our government...conspiracy theories are buzzing through my mind as I type.

I have been avoiding my Spanish paragraph--a ten line paragraph--just because I can't find a salsa/meringue song to translate/summarize. I tried. So, then today I silenced my phone and forgot to unsilence it, which meant I missed Spanish class. I got notes from a girl in class. ooohhh. I am totally hating on that class right now. *hangs head* It makes me feel like way more of a failure than I actually am, I'm nearly sure of it.

Sometimes I stay up obscenely late, just because I dread facing the next day.

I've been having so much trouble feeling inspired to do stuff lately. I turned in my Peterkin application Two Weeks after the deadline. Um, embarrassing much? I was avoiding it in hopes of learning more about Honduras. Or anything else. I want to go overseas so bad, I want to use my Spanish--you know what I'm good at--and help people. While I love being a counselor/lifeguard (though I don't enjoy the lifeguarding part), it doesn't help my search for a career, it doesn't pay well (financially, of course, though it's just as rewarding or more so than many other jobs), and I don't know that it is where God wants me this summer. I have no idea.
So, originally, I just avoided confronting it at all.
But, I ended up confronting it--it makes sooo much more sense.