Things On My Mind

I've had a lot on my mind lately.

I just finished my first semester at UVU (my eighth in college) and before I had a moment to breathe, I started my second semester. I don't like them being so close together. My hope and excitement of a new semester is contaminated by the remnants of cynicism from the last. Which is a shame considering that this new semester I sincerely like my classes. American Lit, Intro to Film, and Contemporary Critical Lit. Thank God my American Lit class starts at 1865. In America, nothing remotely interesting was written before the Civil War, with the exception of The Scarlet Letter and Moby Dick. My film class is tons of fun. Not to mention, the professor seems to like me since he'll mention a movie and I'm the only one who has seen it. That's due to the fact in Cedar City, there's not a whole lot to do so watching movies was a way of life. I miss those Bad-Ass-Movie-Nights. More than I care to admit... My Critical Lit class is difficult but there's a cute red-head guy who sits next to me. He has a scruffy beard and a Mac so he can't be all bad, right?

I've been writing for the UVU Review. I just handed in my second article, which will be the top story for the Culture section. It was on Miss Utah, a chick from UVU. I don't care for pageants for reasons I'm sure you all are smart enough to figure out. But I liked writing it. I like writing in general. I don't know why I do it sometimes. Every now and then I'll read some work from someone else, someone I know personally and I get so depressed because I do not feel my work is nearly as good as his. It's beautiful and tragic at the same time.

Guys seem to finally be coming back into my life, though as fast as I want them to. I'm impatient, I guess. And I hate the whole unknowing involved with liking someone. I don't know. It's all so stupid. I mean, I've been alone for a long time now. And I was alone a long time before my last relationship. Maybe it's because it's summer. Summer never really held much Romanticized views for me. It's too hot. I burn easily. And I always feel so gross when I sweat. But on warm nights when the sun is setting but it's still light out, I would like to lie in the grass next to someone I care about. But wishful thinking...

My room is in disarray. It reminds me of a Charles Bukowski poem, though I don't remember which one. I really should clean it. I don't mind my room being messy but if anyone ever comes into my room when it's like this, I want to kill myself. It's embarrassing, one of the few things I find embarrassing. Maybe that's just wishful thinking as well, to think someone would come into my room soon.

I've been craving a road trip lately. I don't really care where I go. I just want to go and see where I end up. I want to see something new, something different. I don't want to go on my own. But I can't think of anyone I'd want to come with me. Okay, that's a lie. I can think of several people I'd like to come with me. But I don't think they would for reasons that will remain my reasons. Besides, school is still in session. I have a week long break in August. That's my "summer vacation." Oh, well. Besides, my Babygirl isn't well. Her battery is dead. And when I say dead, I mean DEAD. I've jumped-started her three times, drove hundreds of miles, and her battery still won't charge. It's d-e-a-d. So I've been driving my sister's car while she's up in Yellowstone with 4/7ths of my family. I never knew I could become so attached to a car. But I am. My Babygirl is apart of my identity. Driving my sister's Ford Taurus (affectionally called Hector) I feel like a fraud. That car is not me, it's not mine. I'm a poser, driving a car that is not who I am. It's a weird, uncomfortable feeling.

I'm babbling now, I know. But like I said, I've had a lot on my mind...

Love you.
Mean it.