It’s been TWO YEARS?

I am just terrible aren’t I? TWO YEARS. But when it comes to the why, it’s not so terrible at all. Writing is an outlet for emotions, so when my emotions are in turmoil, I feed them into blog posts and journal entries. It helps me work things out in my own mind. In  the two whole years since I last wrote consistently, I think I have learned to understand myself. I am happy, and as a result, no more blog posts.

The reason I logged in today wasn’t even to write! I have caved. I’m going to start a “real” blog, where I’ll post about my outfits, new products I’ve tried, recipes I’ve invented, and fun experiences. It will be a happy blog. Perhaps, though, when I post an artistically composed photo of my perfectly roasted squash to my other blog, I will also take a moment to reflect here on the state of myself. Because change is interesting, and I’m evolving daily.

Today, I am feeling a little crushed. I have so much school work to do that I am blogging rather than face the mountain. But I haven’t broken; I’m not what I used to be. I’ve learned. I live alone now because too much constant noise and activity makes me anxious. I love being able to come home an create an environment that meets my needs of the moment. Every night before bed, I read for an hour, and it feels like the greatest luxury. My life is a dream, and I’m smiling now even with the staggering list of things I must do before the end of December. Oh, December. In December I graduate from the small hell that is an undergraduate degree in engineering, and I will move on to the introduction to freedom that is a masters degree in engineering. Hello power and a taste of free time!


wow. this article.

I don’t know the etiquette for blogging an article, so I’m just going to stick the link right here This article, “LEAVING IT ALL OR HAVING IT ALL? A CLOSER LOOK AT ONCE STRAIGHT WOMEN WHO ARE LEAVING THEIR HUSBANDS FOR OTHER WOMEN” really resonated with me. It was refreshing to hear sexuality termed as fluid because that’s what I’ve always believed.

I knew in 6th grade that I liked my best friend, a girl, as more than a friend. Through middle school and high school I adopted the term bisexual in my head because it was the only term I knew to describe attraction to both men and women. But even then, I couldn’t imagine actually being with a girl. It seemed like such a big step–honestly near impossible. How would I even meet a girl who also liked girls? Sophomore year of college I said it to my best friend. Out loud. It wasn’t until I did it that I realized I had never said “I like girls. I am bisexual.” out loud. Now I’ve been dating the same girl on and off for almost a year, and while I’m still attracted to men, I absolutely love being with her. I never would have imagined myself in this situation even a year ago. Not until the first time I kissed her. It’s taken time to figure myself out. How I feel about being gay. But I take her out on dates in public, and it feels like the most normal thing in the world. She’s not just a girl. She is someone I love, and it wouldn’t matter if she were a boy, or a girl, or a llama. I love her, and I want to make her happy in every way. Sex is just an extension of that.

Something that drives me absolutely crazy about some gay people is that they say things like, “well, I don’t like vagina.” Or, “penises are gross.” And sure, foreign body parts can be weird. But is that all you value of the partner you’re with? Because I sure as hell am not gay just because I ‘like vagina.” No. Girls are in every way different from boys. In the way they talk, act, think. Sex is absolutely important to a relationship, but attraction is about more than body parts. And if you love someone, and find yourself attracted to them, why should you question that? Either way. Whether you have always thought you were completely gay or thoroughly straight, if you find yourself drawn to someone outside of the “norm,” give it a shot. Maybe you don’t know yourself as well as you think you do. Because love is love. And when you do find someone that you love in every way, no one, including yourself, should stop you from giving them everything.


I always think it’s funny when I learn new things about myself. It’s like, I am me. I should know me. But I don’t. Really I don’t trust that I ever know anything at all. Things change too rapidly and with too much ease. If I were shocked every time something I “knew” turned out to be wrong, I would be a constant wreck. As it is, I’m simply a semi-constant wreck, which isn’t nearly so bad.

Anyways, in recent days, I have learned that I am jealous. I never knew. Honestly. But now he has this guy over all the time. ALL the time. Every minute he is home, so is this other kid. And I feel unwanted in my own house. Every night of the week. It’s getting old. But more to the point, I don’t actually hate the kid. I hate that he likes him. I’m jealous that he now gets all of his attention. Before, all the attention belonged to me. I knew it, and I coveted the fact. Now I get no attention. It was abrupt, and I am jealous that it now belongs to someone else. So I’ve been flip-flopping between absolute bitchiness and pretend sugary sweetness because I can’t decide which is more likely to win back the attention. Probably neither, but I don’t know what else to do. Change is hard, and with time everything gets better, but the time in between….no one talks about that. It hurts.


At the end of The Winter of Our Discontent, by John Steinbeck, the main character slips into the ocean, slits his wrists and lets his life drift off with the waves. I can’t get the image out of my head. That idea of absolute surrender. I’m not…strong…enough for self-harm, but the idea of it greatly intrigues me. There’s something about that control. About belonging completely to yourself. If no one and nothing else mattered but the pure feelings of your own mind and body… Yes, pure. Sometimes I think I’d like a pure life. Drifting with the sea of time with no homeland in sight. Be what I want. Travel on a whim. Maybe alone. Maybe not. It wouldn’t matter. Only I would matter. I would matter to me. I would be enough. And that would be enough.

beginning again

I’ve decided to switch majors and I literally feel lighter. More free. It wasn’t until this moment that I realized how stifling it was being in engineering. All everyone is focused towards is money. Getting that job, getting that internship, getting through the class. I don’t want to just “get through” life. I want to live it and I want to love it.

The past two years have changed me. When I started college, I didn’t know what I wanted, and I didn’t think that mattered, so I thought I’d try engineering. From that point until now, I continued to convince myself that I liked what I was doing. That once I got to those upper division classes everything would be more interesting. That I’d love it more. I have been blatantly lying to myself. I do not love engineering, and I do not want to do it for the rest of my life. I don’t even want to finish the semester, but I have to pass my current classes to maintain my scholarship. And then I’ll get to begin again. But better this time.

I’m going to double major in art and English, and get a minor in business. I haven’t talked to an adviser yet, but I figure I’ll only end up being at school an “extra” year, if that. And I am thrilled! Like, actually. I didn’t even think I could be this happy, and it was so simple. I think my mind was so focused on not quitting, worrying that everyone will think I’m weak, and avoiding being that girl that couldn’t handle it that I couldn’t even consider doing something else with my life. But thinking back through school–the last two years especially–my favorite classes have always been in art, English, and history. I only lament that it took this long for me to figure it out. To figure me out. Of course, I don’t regret learning what I have in engineering. I’m nothing but smarter and deeper for it. But I’m excited to try something new. Something I’ll love and truly want to do for the rest of my life.

I know I want to live out of the country for a few years. I think I’d like to be a graphic designer–maybe for an engineering  company! I want to write science fiction novels in my free time. I want to be happy. So, so happy. And I’m about 99% sure that this will do it for me. Hey, I could be wrong, but isn’t this living? I’m young. At least I’m figuring out who I am now and not in 20 years as I sat at my desk in some engineering firm.


I feel like a parrot that only knows a few lines. But I write when I can no longer think, and it’s the same things that turn me into a mess over and over again. So, surprise! This post is about him…. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. Everyday I love him more. The way he stares into my eyes and doesn’t look away. He really doesn’t look away. We gaze at each for prolonged moments and all we do is smile. Because it’s not awkward. It’s wonderful. And I hate that I love it. Sometimes I think I would be better off if he wasn’t in my life at all. If he just up and left one day. Because I would be a wreck for a bit, but then I honestly could move on. No contact with him at all. It would just be me. And I could take care of myself again. Right now, though, I depend on him. He knows when I’m upset. He cares. That makes it so much worse. He tricks me–I trick myself–into thinking he cares about me. I know he does care about me, but I also know that one day he’s going to find someone that means the world to him. It won’t be me. And in that moment, I will lose whatever piece of him I possessed. I am absolutely terrified of that day. He is all I think about. All I truly want. And it will never be. Never. It still gets to me. I just can’t absorb the fact that I can’t love him the way I do because the only way to have him, to myself, forever, is if I belonged to him completely. But he doesn’t want all of me. He only wants part of me, I’ve given it to him, and I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. All he would have to do is ask and I would give my entire self over to him completely. He already is me. We are we. But it can’t last…

Another Ending

Everything is so different now.

I just spent the last 5 or so hours in her arms. She lives in one of the apartments below mine. We’ve hooked up a couple of times but it’s complicated… She’s always on and off with her girlfriend which means on and off with me. Cuddling is apparently acceptable, but no kissing. Except sometimes. She says she loves this girl and is going to marry her–but she wants to have sex with me? I don’t understand. I’m not into her as more than a friend with benefits. She’s sexy and really sweet, but I couldn’t date her. So it’s extra frustrating that she insists on cuddling when it makes me want her.

But we are close. We’re intimate with each other, and I trust her. We can relate. I suppose I’m a bit of a hypocrite, too, because while she talks about her girlfriend all the time, I talk just as much about him.

Wow, him. So I broke up with my (now ex-) boyfriend about 2 months ago essentially for her, but we both knew we didn’t want anything serious. Well, breaking up with my ex turned me into a wreck. I wanted to break up with him. Really. He made me very happy sometimes, but he was also an alcoholic that made me cry a lot. I had intended to break up with him for a while, but the good parts kept me from following through. Then she and I hooked up one night, and I broke up with him the very next morning. I never wanted to hurt him. But even though I did the breaking, it hurt me. I missed having someone to hold me and kiss me and tell me I’m theirs. So I turned to him.

It probably isn’t very fair to him. He is only my friend. But I was unhappy, and I love him, and so he let me cry to him about another man. And I don’t think he wanted to hear it. He is gay, and I guess I know that, but ever since I broke up with my ex, he’s been more…lovey? We’re touchier now, and we do everything together. It feels very strange to go even a day without seeing him. And sometimes, I think he loves me.

See, I really tried to get over him. I wanted him for a long time, but I love him more than I want him, so I tried to think of him purely as my gay best friend. I was doing well until spring break. He, I, and another friend drove to Las Vegas for the week, and our over-21 friend stocked us up on alcohol. One night after we’d been drinking (heand I were in one bed while our guy friend was in another), He and I got into bed, and being cuddly drunks, he pulled me to his chest to spoon. That is not normal behavior for us. While we don’t avoid touching each other while sleeping, we don’t cuddle either. But as soon as we started spooning, he slid his arm over me and his hand up under my tank top. I wasn’t wearing a bra because we were going to bed, and I am comfortable with him–he’s my gay best friend! But then his hand went to my breast. And then we started making out. I don’t remember how long we were at it, but it was hot. Like hands all over the place, woke up our guy friend and got slightly berated hot. I loved it. I fell asleep on his chest to incredibly heavy breathing.

That morning was embarrassing if nothing else. Our friend was like what the hell dude? You’re gay. But sexuality isn’t black and white. And there is no way he is completely gay anymore than I am completely straight. We talked about what happened later when we were alone, and he was like I never want to do it again. That made me feel kinda sad and made me wonder if I was remembering things wrongly and maybe I had like make-out attacked him. That night we didn’t drink.

The next night is something else entirely. We were going to go out, but we had a couple drinks and he and I ended up making out again. He gave me a hand-sized hickey on my lower neck. I am just so incredibly attracted to him. Sometimes he smells so good it makes me lightheaded. And the way he tastes is just the same. I never wanted to stop kissing him.

And things escalated from there. We all ended up in a threesome. We did just about everything there is to do. In the morning though, oddly enough, he and I woke up in our bed and our friend woke up in his. Of course we were all naked… The car ride home wasn’t actually that bad, but we were all a little weirded out about what happened.

Since then, we’ve actually been a little more distant from our friend, but he and I are even closer. If you could see the way he looks at me! It honestly makes me melt. There are no other words. He smiles and stares into my eyes–always a little longer than “normal”–and I melt. I would do anything for him. And he is all I think about. And I still think it has to stop. Because even though I think all this is going on, I might be crazy and seeing signs that don’t exist.

He’s going to Germany for 3 months this summer, and I’m going to miss him tremendously. But it’s also a good opportunity for me to sort things out. I think I’m going to talk to him before he leaves. Like really talk. And maybe take the weak route and beat around the bush until I figure out whether he’ll ever want me as more than a friend. Maybe I’ll be brave and straight up ask. We’ll stay friends no matter what. And we’re living together with another friend next year. But it would be good to have a three month break if questions make things weird.

Mostly I just can’t believe we had sex. Just a couple months ago that was an impossible fantasy of mine. Guess that goes to show that I can never be certain of anything… I can only guess what else is going to be different even a year from now…

Perfect Moments from Christmas Break (in chronological order I believe)

1.  Getting the Elegance of the Hedgehog. He (see “Him”) gave it to me as a birthday/Christmas present when I dropped him off. I didn’t expect a birthday present from anyone, so it was sweet that he went out of his way to get it for me. I love reading, and this is one of his favorites, so he knew I’d like it. He was right.

2.  Reading the Elegance of the Hedgehog all day. The best feeling came late in the evening while I was in my armchair in the corner of my old bedroom. Snow was falling heavily outside, and I was wrapped in a blanket wearing furry socks. I adore furry socks. A frosting-scented candle burned on my dresser. I felt nothing but lucky, warm, and perfectly content.

3.  Crying in the basement with my boyfriend. We talked about our relationship and where we were headed in the future. I always avoided the subject because I didn’t want our diverging futures to be real, but they are. He wants a future with me, but we both admitted that it just isn’t realistic. Yet we’re still together because we love each other, and we want to enjoy the moments we have left before he finds a ridiculously awesome job and I have to let him move on with his grown-up life. I cried very hard, and probably said some mean things, but I feel happy that we set everything straight.

4.  McDonalds day in Las Vegas. My dad was at work, and I had the hotel room to myself. I slept in, practiced yoga for a good half hour, and got ready for the day. It was atypically rainy and windy for Vegas, but I was starving, so I packed up Hedgehog in my purse and walked the ten minutes to McDonalds. I ate chicken nuggets and sipped coffee while reading. It was incredibly relaxing for how many people were around me. After I finished I walked ten more minutes to the Fashion Show Mall and found some great Christmas gifts (including a couple for myself). Despite the nasty weather, I enjoyed the walk and the alone time.

5.  White-chocolate-dipped Oreos. Delicious.

6.  Keeping all my Christmas candy in a giant Victoria’s Secret gift box. It makes me happy just looking at it.

7.  Radioactive on my new stereo. I had just gotten my new car stereo installed and Radioactive by Imagine Dragons came on the radio as I pulled into my neighborhood. The bass and volume were clear up and sounded amazing, and I got goose bumps.

8.  Nertz after second Christmas. We had Christmas late with my dad’s side of the family. After most of the family left, a few of my oldest cousins, my sister, and I played nertz for a couple of hours in the kitchen. I hadn’t laughed so hard in forever. I don’t see them nearly often enough.

9.  Floor sex. Lying naked on a quilt on the floor, wrapped in my boyfriend’s warm arms, I felt like I was in a movie. So cliché, right? But that was the overwhelming feeling I had, and in a way it was strange because I didn’t feel completely…in myself. Yet I loved the moment all the same. We were in his parents’ basement (adding an extra hint of naughtiness), had just finished a movie, and slowly and deliciously made our way to the ground. I’ve had great sex before, but this time felt almost surreal, especially knowing I wouldn’t see him again for weeks.

This Magic Moment

Reading alone in my lamp-lit room. Surrounded by dark walls and heavy, wooden furniture. A candle on my dresser emits a faint scent of burning that I find delectable—I connect it to campfires and the forest, I think. Soft silence brought by heavily falling snow blankets the house.  It is a perfect moment.

Times like these are too glorious not to be savored completely. I like to think about why it feels so lovely. Why I feel so at peace in mind and body. If I don’t acknowledge the feeling of perfection, it ceases to feel as powerful. I liken it to tasting food. Some people eat delicious food quickly, reasoning that it is so good that they can’t stop eating it. Well, if you eat it too fast without stopping to think about the flavors, it will soon be gone. When I eat, I let the flavors enter my mind, and I have to think, wow, this food is great. I’m lucky to be eating it. It’s wonderful that such a thing exists. In the same way, reviewing the nuances of a moment let me appreciate its full beauty.

And the beauty of literature is sometimes overwhelming. When my surroundings are proper—as they were this evening—I drift sweetly into the story, and very wholly become possessed. I am currently reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog, and I highly recommend it for anyone who enjoys pondering weighty topics. It has given me plenty to mull over.

Mostly, I think I read just for the pleasure of reading and the mental activity that it entails. I like to find facts and ideas that I never expected.  I attach myself to characters, and I’ve cried over a book many times, sometimes at a sad scene, but also at the perfect ones. The ones that I would so love to happen in my own life that I weep tears of happiness, or disbelief, or something else currently unbeknownst to me. The feeling of being so wrapped up in another setting that it truly feels real, like you’ve been there, as if you know the characters, is grand. I suppose most other lovers of books understand completely. My attachment to the fictional, however irrational, provides me with such a sense of pleasure that I would never consider giving up the habit of reading. Not when a nice reading session can considerably improve my mood for days. Sometimes I don’t even realize that I needed a boost from a thought-provoking novel until I notice its effects. Of course, the noticing is the really interesting part. Recognizing that I’m calmer and happy lets me replicate the moments that put me there.