Forever and a day

It's been forever and a day since I posted.

And now I'm sitting in the Denver airport with five minutes to go until boarding. The Bachelor (the women tell all episode) would not cooperate with me, and I figured now is as good a time as any to try to regain some of my lost blogging dignity.

I've been thinking a lot about family, lately. I'll be seeing cousins I haven't seen in years. The cousins I'm actually closest in age to on my mom's side. They are also, incidentally, the cousins I live closest to. It bothers me that we never see each other, although we live within 20 minutes of each other. But yet, here we are (or will be soon), all together again to celebrate a wonderful life that has passed. And when I sit and think about it, the last time I saw my cousins was to celebrate a different life.

Why is it that we can't seem to manage to make time for each other until someone passes away? Part of me thinks it's just downright stupid. (That's one of my words of the week. That and damn.) I mean, seriously. We don't even make it to see each other at Thanksgiving or Christmas. It's only when someone dies that we drop everything and hop on planes to be with each other. To console each other. But I've been stirring this around in my head for a few days now, and I've decided I'm okay with that. If we only see each other once every few years, at least it's during a time when we really need each other. At least it's during a time we've all set aside to celebrate life. I don't know what it all means, and I know that as much as I keep saying "celebrate" I really mean mourn. Because that's the kind of person I am.

But at least this is an opportunity for reconciliation. Nothing makes you put your life and your relationships in perspective like death. I refuse to let petty nothings come in between my family and I. I know that this isn't going to change anything and that it'll probably be another few years before we all see each other, but this is a step forward for us all.

I really don't know what I just wrote. I hope it makes sense. Time to board. Wish me luck, loves. 

Semester of Lasts

Here we go. Last semester of my college experience. Last semester at Drake. Last semester in the dorms. Last semester picking classes and reading politics books and writing poetry and getting graded on it all. Last semester eating dorm food. Last semester of so many things.

Last 4 months with these amazing people. Last 4 months in this amazing city (which I complain about a lot but love in some weird sentimental way). Last 4 months with these professors. Last 4 months in the safety shadow of this little school I love so much.

So many lasts. And while I know that these 4 months are going to be long, I have this weird scary feeling that they won't be and that someday I'm going to blink and these will all be gone and these lasts will be so far in the past that they were just a dream.

I know that all the lasts will open doors to firsts, like my first job and my first home. Eventually, there'll be my first car that I buy with my money and the first dinner that I host. My first cat, my first set of real dishes (more than two pieces of which will be identical... unlike now), my first... everything.

But there's still something terribly terrifying about all of this. I'm expected to journey straight from lasts to firsts, but that transition seems like such a harsh one. Going from high school to college, the focus was the same: go to class. My mom always told me that school was my number one priority. Even if I was frustrated with making new friends or being uncomfortable with the food or being homesick... it didn't matter, because I was here to go to class, first and foremost. Everything else was secondary. Quickly (although at the time, it seemed slowly), I made new friends, grew to love my independence, and the homesickness subsided, and even though I knew that school was  (is, really) my main priority, everything else was important too, and everything else made (and is making) my experience here so completely worthwhile. But that comfort of class and the academic routine helped with that transition, and this next transition is going to be different. What is my main priority now? This is my life. It isn't a game. It isn't 100% about a job and school, but in many ways, that is a main mental focus. And what about my heart? I have a deep love and passion for school and academics, and that's partly why, I believe, my mother  told me to focus on that when I was having a hard time. But that's not going to be possible anymore. I guess it's just interesting. I feel so rooted in this path right now, but at the end of these 4 months, this canyon I've been walking in is going to level out and it's going to be wide open something or other. Maybe desert. Maybe jungle. I don't know. And I'm so excited. But so terrified. And so amazed at what life has offered me so far. I just don't know how to feel. I hate change. I'm notorious for hating change. What do I do with this now? What do I do with these lasts? How do you prepare for so many lasts? How do you savor these last cozy months in the big tall canyon?

Engine Coolant AKA Antifreeze

Today, (well, yesterday, but I really truly discovered it today) my car started leaking antifreeze, the orange stuff that keeps the engine from overheating. Every time I stopped at a stop light/sign/whathaveyou, white smoke would come out from under the hood of my car. And when you're as paranoid as I am, white smoke, even just a little, is not okay. Thoughts start racing through my head: "My car's going to blow up. My CAR is going to blow up. My car is going to BLOW up. My car is going to blow UP." And I go frantic when I can't reach my parents on their cell phone (I don't care if I'm 20 or not, my dad can fix anything.) Unfortunately, the problem is ultimately up to me to fix, as my parents are 3 hours away. They're helpful, yes, but the solving the problem is, in the end, completely up to me.

And then, due to my damn writer's brain, I started thinking about my life, and I'm pretty sure that this month my emotional persona has been leaking antifreeze. I mean, when I really sit and think about it, I feel like that's what it is. All of these little things have been piling on top of each other... all these little worries I'm harboring about the sick/dying/missing people in my life have created enough pressure that something's snapped a little. You can smell the bitchiness in the air a little more than normal, and that little gauge is inching dangerously close to the danger zone (ignore my redundancy in that statement. Maybe I'll think of better words later). My point is, where do you find a mechanic to fix that kind of leak? I need more antifreeze... more anti-emotional flip-out shit. And unfortunately, as much as my parents and friends try to help me, ultimately, it's up to me. Even though many of them are dealing with the same stuff I am right now, though, they don't run the same way I do... and it takes personal mechanic-ness (word choice... help!) to figure out what to do.

Apologies if my metaphor wasn't quite on par, but that's literally what's been going through my head. I have absolutely no control over any of the issues I'm worried about, but I DO have control over my reaction. (What's that cheesy saying? "Life is 10% what happens and 90% how you react to it?" or something?) My first step in repairing the leak in my emotional persona (I'm going to name her Mandy... I think it's a pretty name) was to spend the whole weekend locked in my room (this was also due partly to rain... I wasn't being a completely anti-social bitch) doing arts and crafts. The end result: a new piece of art, a bite into the chunk of christmas presents I have to give, reduced stress levels, and a LITTLE patch of one broken pipe has been slightly repaired.

Now the question is, what is going to happen to my car?