I guess I was due to get Covid at some point. I came down with something a couple days ago and took a rapid test, sure enough, it was positive. The last 72 hours or so have been... uncomfortable to say the least. Especially since it's exam week. But I have the time to write, and since things are winding down with school and all I thought I'd do a larger life update.

I'm nearly done with my first year of college, and that feels insane considering I thought I'd drop out. I think of all that I've done and all that has changed about me since the beginning of the academic year and honestly, I feel like a completely different person. I really mean it. I must be completely unrecognizable.

As I wrote back in September:

"I'm excited to make new friends and memories. One thing I love about myself is that I'm always changing and I'm looking forward to seeing what college does to me. As long as I can keep up with my classes, I think I'll be alright. Everything else is just a cakewalk to me."

University has helped me learn a lot about myself, and has also given me an opportunity to take charge of not just my education but myself in general. I came out of high school with a pretty grim perspective on my future since I barely scraped by. Thinking back to what I was learning in high school, it's strange because I distinctly remember being disinterested and totally unengaged in subjects that I now learn about in my free time, just because. Old me didn't want to learn about much. Now I have tapped into all these different subjects and hobbies and I feel better than ever. It's a bit sad I guess because I wonder what the current me would've been like in that setting. I think about all the teachers I disappointed and while that isn't something that really weighs on me until I think about it, I would like to go back to MCST before the year ends and update some of my teachers who definitely knew I was tweaking in class. I have overcome a lot since that, and grown as a person. Nine months ago, I was pretty nervous about all of this. Since then, everything has gone up. I watched five seasons of Glee, adopted a cat, met someone that I love, gone to so many places, met so many people, saw so many shows... it was everything I needed.

So I can't really be that mad about being in bed with Covid right now, even though I wouldn't stop bitching about it yesterday. I'm quite happy, actually. Once my exams are totally over (May 3rd is the last day of the semester) I'll surely celebrate. Maybe jointly with Corey since that's his birthday. And then, life will be a dream this summer, with so many new adventures to be had and avenues of life to embrace. Once I get over this case of the sniffles, I'll be getting right to it.

A week or so ago I was in a really good mood. It was a nice day and I had some errands to run, so I was out in Galloway blasting my music and enjoying my day.

Someone once told me my happiness is contagious, and I guess maybe it is for some people. I've definitely met folks who don't entertain the same playfulness, but once in awhile I'll find myself sharing some interesting experience with a stranger. Honestly, I think it's just because my voice is expressive. Maybe I seem easily approachable when I'm in a good mood. I sure hope so.

Anyways, I went to get gas the other day at the local chainless gas station because it has the lowest prices at the moment. $4.01 a gallon last week when I was there, and now they are down to $3.97. The place was packed, cars waiting in a line and gas attendants frantic because, well... that's Jersey. I rolled up and fiddled with my music and began singing along to something I forget until one of the attendants came up to serve me. He was older, in his 50s or early 60s, and had a grizzled gray face. He kind of looked like a lumberjack or a person from a fantasy game. And after he took my card and I told him the usual, "fillerupregular please thank you", he came back and just asked me on the spot:

"How many miserable people do you think there are?"

I kinda laughed at first because it caught me off guard.

"You mean just in general? Or..."

"Just here."

Odd question. I turned it over in my head a bit and thought back to my experience in service positions. I couldn't tell you how many miserable people there are in New Jersey. Probably a lot. Especially when they have to buy gas and are in a hurry. The road culture is one of the worst things about this state. A lot of people are always in a rush.

"I'd say it's like 50/50."

Then he looked me dead in the eyes and said,

"Here it's more like 20/80."

I'm not really sure why he asked me that. Maybe just to express frustration with the nature of such jobs. We talked and laughed a little more about I forget what until my tank was full. I was surprised he stuck around considering the place was so busy, but it was just one of those things. One of those things that sticks with me until I finally write about it. I don't know.

I haven't posted in forever and it feels good. I needed a break. Partially because nothing really exciting was happening, and because I simply did not want to. So I didn't. And now I do.

My spring break just ended. My roommates both went home on the 12th which left me 8 days to spend alone at the apartment, and that week proved to be one of the best I've had in awhile. I didn't make any crazy plans for break so I mostly just chilled out and enjoyed being alone. After all, it's rare to have the time and personal comfort to dance shirtless in my living room to the same songs over and over again. Or cook an omelet... shirtless. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was shirtless for a majority of the time I spent at home last week. I'm weird.

I did have some things on the itinerary, though. Amanda came down to Galloway for a sleepover and for the first time since prom weekend, we got drunk together. This time it wasn't a complete disaster because we had everything we needed. I sipped wine while she had vodka with juice, and we progressed to drinking straight rum. We mostly just talked while drunk which is pretty much what we do anyways, but I made some realizations about Amanda as she discussed the situation with her boyfriend and college. She has become complacent now that she is happy and some things are hard to talk to her about now. Her boyfriend makes her so happy, and she says she wants to marry him, but I'm not particularly fond of the guy. Also, marriage after dating for six months? Come on. Her stability makes me fear the worst... Amanda settles down with some himbo in a nice suburban home and starts a family, suddenly there goes her ability to think critically or care about any of the world's problems. It's a life I dread and I know what type of person Amanda is. I wondered if I could chalk my bitterness up to the social frustrations of my own life, but in many ways I'm in a similar position to her. I can't exactly elaborate on that. But anyways, while drunk, we played some Battleship and ate a ton of junk food and listened to music. It was fun overall. The next day, we went to a diner in Absecon which was probably the best one I've found around here so far. And that was it as far as hanging out with friends.

On the 18th I went to the one place I actually planned to go to over break: the Naval Air Station in Wildwood, NJ. It was the warmest day we've had yet this year, in the 70s, so I took a nice drive there and went to the aviation museum. It's on the quaint side, but online I saw they had a Soviet MiG-15. Needless to say, when I saw it I couldn't help but jump like an excited child. I walked around it for like 15 minutes just in awe at the size and design of it. They also had my favorite plane, the PT-17, in both the Navy and Army livery so I was freaking out about that. I talked to the workers in the gift shop (such a sleepy little location) and they said that the MiG was authentic and served in China. I stayed for about an hour and a half there and then went back home and learned more about planes. It really is an obsession.

Then on the 19th I had the Tame Impala concert. My Dad got me the ticket for Christmas and Tame Impala is one of my favorite artists. I went to Philly and took an edible for it but it didn't work, and so it was the most painfully sober concert I've been to in recent times... combined with a horrible crowd which might as well have been phone screens floating in the air recording everything. I wasn't really ecstatic about it. I feel horrible but it just wasn't memorable at all. I think now that I know what underground shows are like, I just can't enjoy a stadium show the same. Maybe if I petition hard enough I can get Tame Impala to play PhilaMOCA or the FU Church, with no annoying Euphoria-ass looking kids. Oh well. I feel so old and decrepit.

But overall when I look back at break, I had a fucking awesome time in my eyes. I just did whatever I wanted for a week. Who can complain about that?

Anyways, I've been thinking recently about how I'm doing socially because I haven't felt very lonely in a long while. I only talk to three people on a regular basis: Corey, Connor, and Vic. Maybe I just had to get used to how things are. I can't really tell if it's healthy or not but I'm happy so I'm not going to overthink it too much. The rest of what I need to write about regarding that will be a private entry, of which there have been quite a few recently. If it looks a bit sparse here right now, that is the reason why.

Radio is going well. School is alright, but I could be doing better. I'm trying to get on birth control soon and also get a job. So that's probably the stuff I'll be talking about in future entries. But for now, I'm in class and not paying attention so I should probably go.

I love when I listen to music and it brings me back to a specific place or memory. The other night I was listening to Lonerism (one of my favorite albums) and it took me right back to the top bunk of that cabin at a Girl Scout camp in Ohio, where I listened to it for the first time. It's such a pronounced and clearly defined memory. I was wearing my Gilly Hicks pink sleepwear and laying on top of my bedding because it was hot. For the rest of that trip I was infatuated with that album, and I still am, but nothing beats that feeling when you first discover some of your favorite music.

When I think about my time in Ohio, I am convinced it was magical. Being far from home makes me feel both completely independent and out of control at the same time, and that's why I like it. In Ohio, all I had to do was take my time and immerse myself in the beauty of Kelley's Island. I wish I could go back and just indulge myself in freshwater research and monarch tagging all over again. I'd do that year after year if I could. I've gone on a few of those Girl Scout hosted trips before, and I somehow always seem to forget the people I met. But I remember what I learned, and my individual interactions with nature while I was there. And also the music I listened to. When I listen to "Music To Walk Home By" I really feel like I'm back in the place where I first listened to it.

I want to do a lot of travelling in my life, and I have done a bit already. I've seen more of this country than most I'd say, from Maine to Florida to Washington to Arizona and a significant area of what is in between. This country has remarkable natural beauty and strange, diverse cities. I want to see much more of it before I die, but I also want to get the fuck out of America and see everything else, too. I wonder what amazing places I'll have been to 20 years from now. I will gladly live in a small house and put money aside just to be able to travel. And maybe one day, I won't live here. The idea is so tempting I don't know what to do with it. To think that people live and die in the same stupid suburb they were born in is so confusing to me. I will definitely make sure that will not be happening to me.

I am burnt out again, and in most capacities, I am bored.

What really is there to do around here? Coursework, sure. Hang out with Vic, get high, go to the convenience store purely out of boredom... and that's it. You need money to have a good time around here, at least in winter. It's brining me down. I'm definitely not on my peak game at the moment and that feeling of slipping is reminiscent of high school. I feel like I'm becoming useless to myself again, and that's the last way I want to feel.

I don't get it. Recently I've felt that I've had everything I've ever wanted in my life, shouldn't it feel spectacular? In many ways it does, but not overall. I think I am just sad or something. I'm wondering if it might have something to do with my poor eating habits recently, although as far as I can tell that is a side effect of being bummed out. This past week I've only made food for myself once a day out of obligation, and that has to catch up with me at some point. It could also just be that my workload keeps me on my toes, in which case, I need to relax. Nothing can be perfect all the time, right? But I am terrified of failure. Oh well, that's life I guess. Knowing myself, whatever it is will work itself out in time. The next entry I'll probably be just fine and dandy again.

"When you jump off this stage, you will never fall. You will never touch the ground."

On Friday I saw The Casualties at the FU Church in Philadelphia. I got the tickets a few weeks back because it had been awhile since I got out of the house to do something fun, and I hadn't seen a show yet this year. I'm not hugely familiar with The Casualties (although I was with their opening bands) but this show had to be, by far, the best one I've been to.

The FU Church is a pretty popular venue in Philly despite the size. It can hold about 40 people safely, but 60 people if there's a show going on. In the venue area is a dimly lit little stage with this... I want to phrase this delicately because it cracks me up... this educational ABC's carpet. It's comedically childish and belongs in a kindergarten, but I assume it's there so the music equipment can keep a grip with all the movement on stage. Aside from punk shows, this venue also hosts bible reading, slam poetry, and other community events. But for Philadelphia's devoted underground music scene, it is indeed a divine place. Hence the affectionate nickname, "FU Church". I like it a lot.

So the other night I saw a few bands there. What I love about punk, and I've said it before, is that the crowd is always very inclusive and kind. I think probably a lot of people look at a mosh pit and see something ruthless and out of their element, and I can't blame them, but from my experience, everyone has each others backs in there. If a person falls they are immediately lifted back up and thrown back into the loop. Fallen phones and car keys are placed in a corner along with everyone's jackets and sweatshirts, which peel off as soon as the crowd starts getting fired up. And this crowd sure as hell was heated. Even in the first song, a small pit had already gathered, and by the time Stolen Wheelchairs came on nearly everyone was thrashing and screaming along. At this venue, there's a little area up by the front; a large amp stand that I like to hold onto or hide under to avoid injury all the way up there. The band is only a few feet away from there, and I can dance as much as I want without getting sucked into the middle. Usually I don't get worked up enough to take the risk and join a mosh pit since I'm small and desperately uncomfortable with physical touch. But I was ecstatic that night. Whatever it was, whatever was happening got the adrenaline pumping through me and eventually I found myself inching closer and closer to the front of the stage. Eventually, the lead singer of Stolen Wheelchairs jumped above me on the amp stand and flung himself off into the crowd, then got carried back. From that point onward, the strange array of both casual and fashionable punks were jumping into a dense mass of flailing people.

At around 10:00, The Casualties came on and encouraged everyone to basically do whatever they wanted. I, too high off hormones to really care at that point, smiled and danced with the lead singer of Stolen Wheelchairs, which could've made my night alone. What an honor. I contemplated whether or not I had the courage to go and jump off the stage and let all those disgusting, sweaty, unfamiliar hands touch my body but decided against it. Until, that is, a man in front of me turned around and put his hands on top of each other. I didn't know what he was gesturing at first, and then it clicked. He was offering to throw me up into the crowd. I didn't even hesitate at that point, and I shocked myself, but I put my dirty, beer and spit-covered boot up on there and was lifted above the sea of people, who then floated my body to the stage. Mister David Casualty was like, right there. Just screaming next to me. So I jumped back in, and was carried like the Queen of fucking Sheba for 15 seconds of the most concentrated and intense joy I have experienced, until my holy boots hit the ground once again. I really felt the love in that short time. I was lifted by so many people who couldn't give a fuck who I was or what bizarre position my body was being pushed into. It was otherworldly, like a scene of magic realism. Just immensely powerful for me.

Maybe this makes me sappy, but punk not only challenges me to be myself, it challenges me to overcome things I don't have the opportunity to without it. Dressing the way I want, asserting myself, joining the crowd, being confident, that kind of thing. I remember at my first show I felt completely out of place and stuck in my compulsively formal ways. There used to be a feeling of imposter syndrome. I think back to that versus where I was last Friday and I see that I've found something truly special and important to me. There is so much love in it for something that seems so hateful. I love the punk scene here in NJ and PA. Each time I get out of the house, the good times get even better.

After I was let down, I felt completely in shock. It must have been apparent on my face, because when I made my way back to my usual spot, a woman of about 35 or 40 looked over at me and smiled wholesomely. I guess she saw the whole occurrence from beginning to end and put it together that I don't do that often. From then on, my anxiety was gone. Alcohol, water, and other questionable fluids flew around the church, all over the floor and the comical ABC's rug, which I hope gets cleaned before Saturday Night Bible Study. My eardrums were so blown out that I couldn't even tell what song was playing, but I danced and shouted anyways. I was covered in sweat, just drenched. It was just intensity in its highest degree. I walked out not hearing a thing, but managed to thank the man who enabled me to crowd surf. He asked how old I was, and said that when he was 18 someone did the same thing for him. I sat down a bit outside and then managed to get myself home despite the hearing handicap. The feeling stayed with me until I walked in the door and came back to reality.

I love heavy, fast, loud music. Last year I would've shied away from it altogether. "Too overwhelming" or "too harsh". Now it's all I want to listen to and all I want to see. I really was in a place of spirituality that night.

Well today was stressful.

$243 down the drain at the vet today... it's not a huge deal but I'm not exactly happy about it. Gibraltar has some issues with fur loss and cat acne. I'm just glad I have peace of mind since it was stressing me out all week that I didn't know what's up with him. Fortunately it's nothing serious, well, except for my bank account. It's fine, it's over now. Stress, as present as it is in my life, is becoming easier to manage. I think.

Today is Valentine's Day. Honestly, I've always been one for the holiday despite never participating in it. I like the color scheme a lot and I'm not sure people get that but that's my whole fixation with it. Everything is pink, red, covered in hearts, and there's chocolate. Doesn't get better than that, although I guess I didn't like spending this one in the vet office. It's fine though, because I got to wear my favorite pair of Valentine's Day socks.

I haven't been feeling very lonely lately. I know, shocker. There's a few reasons why, but one notable change I've seen in myself is that I don't want to get close with anyone at school. It might be from stress, but for some reason I think it's a good thing to have less distractions and social obligations right now. I hate being coaxed into social situations I don't want to participate in and it can be hard for me to say. Recently I dealt with a very clingy classmate of mine and it was a huge fucking relief being able to refuse his attention and tell him to stop investing himself in my life. I guess I just feel like I can't deal with it. I'm invested in the people I want to be invested in, and I'm surprisingly happy with how things are.

So yeah. maybe that makes me lame. I prioritize a lifestyle that I've found to be conducive to my overall happiness and I will ride this wave as long as I can. It's probably not very exciting to most, but as someone who was convinced they would always be a failure in high school, nothing gets me more excited than having a propensity to work, learn, and succeed.

Although, on the topic of success, I will admit that I haven't been finding it in radio. You know, the industry I want to have a career in. It's a long story. I won't talk about it until I make up my mind about sticking with it. On one hand, I really, really want to be successful with broadcast media. Few things call to me the way this does. But on the other hand, I know I can't force that and I may have to stubbornly accept that DJing isn't my path. Whatever happens, I know I always have my writing to carry me. Recently I wrote a press release for one of my classes and my professor commended it, so it will be in the school paper this week. I have skills I am confident in, it's just a matter of settling in a position where I can support my lifestyle and just be happy.

Also, my birthday is coming up. I will be 19 on March 6th. I am not looking forward to this because it makes me feel old. One more year of being a stupid teenager left... and then I get to be even dumber in my 20's. Can't wait. I still feel like I'm 16.

I will fly into London, and then go from Heathrow Airport directly to Westbury. I'm staying from August 17th to the 30th, which will give ample time for me to drive Corey insane. We are going to go to Bristol and Frome and wherever the fuck, I don't really care, I'm excited out of my mind. For years I've dreamed up those "What if we met?" hypotheticals with people... it's shocking to think that I have the power to make something real. I'm both ecstatic and terrified- definitely nervous as much as I am pumped. I think back to times in my life where I would give anything to meet a person in real life. All of those hopes fizzled out as the years passed and we found ourselves growing apart, incapable of making anything come true. What I felt then when I was close with those people was in retrospect a bit misguided considering the types of people they often were, but it was just a relentless yearning. I was frustrated by the fact that I would probably never meet them, and I didn't. For a few people it is still sorrowful to think about what could've been and what never was. I dread to think of having that happen again, especially now that I have the freedom to make it work out.

It is likely unsurprising that the inability to interact with my closest friends in person growing up affected me negatively. I still find it difficult to make close friends in real life, and I can't say I get close to them the same way. The way I see it, the internet is a portal to escape the pool of people in my daily life and all the given commonalities they share just from living where they do. I like being around them, but it's hard to find people who are just vastly different to me in terms of lifestyle. I value the relationships that challenge my perception of the world and open me to new things. That holds a lot of weight to me. At the same time, I find it nearly impossible to meet people who are like me, in the areas where it matters, at least. Emotionally I feel that I can be a bit demanding of people. I guess that's how I'd put it. In the humongous schema of all my friends, there are very few who I feel just "get it". I can't really find the words for it, but those are people who I value so, so deeply. Patient, compassionate, engaging people. I've said it here before but I like when people bring out the best in me. It's amazing that connections like that can exist online, and that it's easier for me that way.

Aside from that, there are other real life limitations that make the internet more conducive to deep connections for me, hypochondria and social anxiety being the main ones. It's often a struggle for me to exist around people physically. Being touched can be unsettling and even anxiety-inducing, and I just ooze discomfort and awkwardness all the time around people my age. It may be irrational and frankly not very apparent but it is an obstacle, almost like a mental firewall. I am working on it in therapy and I hope to be rid of it one day, but for now the internet is a place where I can be free of all of those fears. My internet friends get to see an elusive side of me. It makes this opportunity that I've just guaranteed myself pretty unique. I don't think I will have the same physical limitations with Corey because I already know him, but I can't be 100% sure. I can usually think of a person and accurately gauge my physical comfort with them but I've never been able to "test" that with someone I've never actually been around. So we will see. If things are how I suspect, it would be good progress with pushing my boundaries. But then again, so will travelling alone to the UK. It's bound to be an interesting trip. I can't even express my emotions in writing.

The next six months, I surmise, will be quite long.

On Thursday I was let out of one my classes early. Left with three hours between my classes and very little to do besides write, I went up to the F-Wing and sat in an empty classroom by myself.

Stockton's facilities look new and chic, but when given the chance to examine them closely, it seems that isn't really the case. In the room I was in, a few of the college-style desks had their matte finished peeled off to reveal a layer of wood underneath, in which various inscriptions from students over the years were compiled. I looked over these desks carefully, and I guess there is a sort of intimacy to thinking deeply about thoughtless scribbles. In it you can find love confessions, deep-seated hatreds, stick figures in various states, and antiquated jokes dating all the way back to the ancient mid-2000's. I don't know what about defacing a desk feels so charmingly human, but it does.

After staring at desks for a long while, I took a seat near the high-rise windows and watched the people below. The sunlight comes through only on that last line of desks, and although I normally sit in a different row in that room I didn't want to budge. The blinds are always left up, and the metal chains hang down and sway slightly from the air of the very slightly rusted steel radiators. I flicked the bottom of a chain in front of me and watched a ripple of energy climb up and then return to the bottom with a writhing movement. If you play with the intensity just right, you can keep the oscillation going for a good while, a useless observation but an observation nonetheless. For the remainder of my time, I sat in the light and sang quietly to myself until the tranquility was broken by the boisterous arrival of my classmates. That period of about an hour seemed to go by in an instant.

Last semester a sort of bizarre thing happened where people began demanding I start an official "Bagel Club" at Stockton. It started because I would always get bagels after class on Thursdays, and when people started to realize that, they wanted in. By the end of the semester I was driving a loaded car to the bagel shop after Mass Comm and although we all joked about making it a club, push came to shove, and here I am with a petition in hand today with Stockton's Unofficial Bagel Club Committee. Now, these people aren't exactly people I see myself getting close with, but we do have a similar desire to see this club get officiated. With me as president, I was honestly unsure I'd want the weight on my shoulders but it isn't like I have anything better to do. So Stockton Bagel Club may become real, well, if we get enough signatures. I think it will be good for me if it means I get to work and talk with other people regularly.

The thing about Bagel Club is that the idea is very simple. All we need is a designated space and a $400 yearly budget to support our organization. We are trying to pose it to the student senate as a place for people to unwind and socialize with their peers over some damn good bagels, and hopefully with my meticulous wording we are able to get what we're looking for. Today, me and the vice president are occupying a table at the club fair on campus today to try and solicit supporters. With enough signatures on our club petition, the senate will be required to look at it. So we will see where it goes.

Today is also a big day, or at least I hope it will be because the school radio station (WLFR) is having its kickoff meeting. This will be my last chance this semester to join the station. Frankly, I am intimidated by the idea of being a DJ purely out of inexperience, but even if I work myself up about it I know I'll probably get used to being on air with the proper training. I'm looking forward to it, but I don't know what to expect.