Vivid

I don't know what to say about today. I mean I felt like it just never happened, sorta like it floated by without my noticing. On top of that, things have seemed more beautiful to me lately. It was rainy today, but I just couldn't help but notice the way the water glazed the red brick sidewalks in just the right way or how the leaves seemed to be scattered on the ground, not as if they had fallen, but as if they, in their array of color, had been placed there with purpose. The past few days have been like that really, seemingly surreal and distant, but at the same time, beautiful.

But this morning I woke up early to write that art paper that was due today. I completed it just effortlessly as I had expected, and now that is one less weight on my mind. What seems to have my attention at the moment is my capacity to graduate on time. It seems like a long-shot which sets my moral back a bit, but I am more discouraged at the reality of leaving Nashville. That is quickly becoming a thought more and more difficult to bear.

So with these scattered and more all bombarding my head, I have found a new place of solace. The library is a surprisingly peaceful building to go to and study, think, read, or just stare off into space (who would have thought). I haven't been there since my freshman year, and I really just forgot what it was like. I even have my old spot still. It's on the second floor all the way back in the left corner.

Today I was scanning through the books near my spot just to see if anything would catch my eye. I started in on this book about grief counseling, how different people react over a loss. It's been a while since Phill died, but I think about him a lot. I guess I just kept reading because I wanted to see if how I felt was "normal". It turns out that for the most part, I am. I say "most part" because the crying thing isn't on the level. As most of you know, I cry just about as often as I throw up, which is hardly ever. The last time I cried was at Phill's funeral about a year and a half ago. Before that, it was four years. I've never really understood why I am like that, with the exception that when I was seven years old I promised myself that I would never cry in public because I didn't want people to think I was a wuss. The book hit on that a little bit. It caught my attention when it first said that some people express the act of crying as "losing it" which is exactly how I put it. The book explained that crying is a means by which people draw comforting attention and sympathy from others. When they cry alone it can still provide this feeling of comfort because of the psychological reinforcements built around the act. It said that people who do not cry usually don't because they don't want sympathy. It went on to say that when these people do cry, they express it as "losing it" because they are afraid of deep grief. I suppose that's true for me as well. I mean I've always known that I don't enjoy people feeling sorry for me, but I've just never made the connection between that and crying before. In fact, even admiting this is making me uncomfortable, but I choose to continue because I want to look back on this someday.

My way of dealing with sadness and stress takes a lot longer than crying. That's why I wish so hard sometimes that I could just cry real quick and get it over with, but I can't. I would be a horrible soap opera actor because I can't even fake it. Why am I still talking about crying? Change the subject!

Okay, so I was scheduled to work this Saturday, but I need it off because I have to work on the showcase. And that being said, I also need to go to sleep so I can wake up early in the morning and feel super. Peace and love.