There is always so much to absorb on my reading page. I'm pretty sure all the world's knowledge rests somewhere on Dreamwidth, even that of ancient texts and times before human history. At least, that's how I feel scrolling through some of these user pages. Middle-aged Dreamwidth writers are immaculate in that they are always raw, calm, and pensive. After a good scroll through my reading page, I feel the complete opposite. Like a thrashing, self-absorbed teenager. It's a bit funny.

I aspire to write with the confidence and grace of the people on this site. There are some deeply intelligent people here, quoting intelligent texts and talking about intelligent things. I know better than to be pressured by that standard. After all, I am in the minority of this website's age demographic and have a long way to go as both a journalist and hobbyist. Reading the work of other users is a potent method for self-criticism. I can gauge what writing styles I prefer and what I need to work on without feeling intimidated by the overstated demand of an audience. This is a good community. I've already come so far as a writer and a person because of my devotion to this journal.

What I want to work on most in my writing is honestly the subject matter. I've had some notable ups and downs with spirituality and the like this year, and now the nature of my content has changed to mostly life anecdotes. I'd like to write more about general ideas that allow me to recount past experiences. I've been thinking of making a list of one-word prompts that are benign enough for me to pick one randomly at any given time and write about it. I'd also like to cite more people or works in my writing and fortify my influences in the emotional and technical capacities.

Although I like to set these goals, what I value the most in pursuit of this journal is sincerity. Everything I say here is reminiscent of who I am as a person and where I am in my life. My goals are not really priorities in that sense, but they are always at the back of my mind. Maybe one day, years from now, I'll be one of those laid back intellectual Dreamwidth scholars, sipping my wine and quoting epic poems in my entries. A kid can dream.

I was invited to a party this week at the house of a mutual friend, Anya. Ishwar, Corinne, and Sami all talked fondly of this person and the memories they've made at her house. I was especially excited for this because I've never been to an actual house party and didn't think I'd get one under my belt before college. That, and because this party asked that everyone dress in formal attire. I was beyond enthusiastic about this, since this gave me an opportunity to do something I've seldom done before and dress in formal female clothing.

I've been waiting for a chance to do this for awhile now, ever since I began embracing female fashion again. When I was younger, the word "pretty" (used to describe me) might as well have been a slur. Childhood dysphoria meant I spent a decade resenting all forms of femininity, and thus I never received so-called "feminine" attention or compliments. Nowadays, femininity is estranged from my biological sex and I ache to feel and be seen as beautiful when I dress the part. I see my female friends in their prom and graduation dresses and aspire to feel that elegant, that gorgeous, that delicate. I remember when I watched American Psycho with Jatin, I fell in love with the scene where Patrick takes Jean to his apartment. I thought she was so pretty and innocent in that scene, and I wanted to be exactly like that. I wanted to be like Jean from American Psycho. This was my shot, and honestly, I think I did a pretty damn good job.

I picked out a satin dress at Macy's. When I saw it, it felt perfect for me. It was peach with white and pink roses and sleeves that draped over the sides of my shoulders. When I got home and tried it on, it fit me so well that I just stood in front of the mirror and teared up at how good I felt in it. That instance marked the dissolution of years worth of harbored doubts. It was quite emotional. I also ran out and bought sparkly gold Guess heels. I've never worn any shoe of that sort, and had to spend a good amount of time practicing walking in them. It's almost foolish how hard it is to walk in heels, but I eventually got it down.

On the night of the party, I put on heavier makeup than usual and did my hair the best I could considering it's pretty short. I was so thorough with my skincare that I was basically shining like a model. It felt fucking amazing. When Corinne picked me up, she said she swallowed her gum choking because of how good I looked, and in that moment I knew I succeeded. From that point on that smile never left my face.

In terms of the party itself, well, it's funny. I thought this was going to be a pretty sober event. My first notion of otherwise was when Corinne turned to me while driving and said "I am going to get SO trashed tonight". And that's when things got really interesting. Corinne's energy is unmatched. She is so carefree that it's hard to be nervous in her presence, so if everyone was going to be drunk tonight, that was okay. We picked up Lindsey (Corinne's best friend) and headed to the party, blasting club music out of her old Jeep and dancing as much as we possibly could in a car. The anticipation was so strong by the time of our arrival that we were giggling just walking across the wet grass to Anya's front door. When we entered, people were already gathered around the living room table playing poker. Some people I knew, most I didn't. The people who did looked a little shocked by my appearance, which was both funny and reassuring. I knew I was in to receive a different type of attention than usual. For about an hour we sat around the table and a very kind boy who I didn't know talked close to me about how to play poker. Then, Sami was handed a bag of bud and immediately locked eyes with me, bearing a devious smile. She took me by the arm and a small group of us made our way to the basement, where another group of unfamiliar people were chilling on the couch. I was led into a small room with a sign on the door that simply said "Knock Before Entering" and had a bong drawn below it. To my surprise, this room was nothing more than a couch with a coffee table, but it was absolutely plastered in soccer posters, pictures, and various paraphernalia. It was a bit hilarious. I watched as Sami and Anya rolled two joints with great skill, and we all passed them around, hotboxing the room into oblivion. I don't remember much about this part besides Messi staring at me the whole time. Mostly just speaking and laughing. I know I was hitting it off though, and that was enough for me. When we left the room, the thick layer of smoke seeped out of the cracked door into the startling clarity of an energetic party in full swing.

For the rest of the night I floated around, high as fuck, slowly getting faded on champagne and wine, and absorbing everything around me. Sean played a song for me while we were all around the table ("Ooh Baby Baby" by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles) and honestly, I don't remember anything super specific after that. At one point I went outside and Corinne and Lindsey opened a bottle of champagne, taking swigs directly from the bottle. Corinne accidentally spit some on my dress which was pretty hilarious and I didn't really care. I really did feel like a party girl, which at that point was exactly what I was going for. However, it doesn't always pay off to be a girl surrounded by drunk guys. Later in the night, for reasons I mostly forget, a boy tried to explain why communism sucks to me which was so pathetic that I drunk texted Jatin about it. Approaching midnight, I had my shit rocked by aforementioned champagne, played some beer pong, texted Corey (apparently) and I forget everything else leading up to my departure. I remember trotting across wet grass to get my items, and hugging Corinne goodbye. Not just a normal goodbye, though. This would be the last time I partied with her, as she's off to college in Arizona as we speak. I wish I was sober enough to remember what she said to me. Corinne has really made my summer special. She'll never know how much she's given me. It was bittersweet, her seeing me off and all. But it's okay, because then a very, very cute boy drove me home that night.

Oh god, what do I say about Ryan Vetter? Maybe I was a little too crossfaded because in that 30 minutes I swear he was the cutest boy I'd ever met in my entire life (given, I like a lot of boys). He's one of Corinne's closest friends, and we actually went to middle school together. He wasn't at the party but came to drive people home and graciously gave me a ride. Corinne told me he liked Tame Impala so I put that on and he asked me about the night's events. I told him parties weren't my usual scene, and I forget what he said in response to that but it made me smile. We reminisced about middle school a little bit, talked about our friends, things like that. He had a really cute stutter, too. Jesus Christ. Yeah, I was definitely wasted. I know better than to get my hopes up with a person that nice.

Anyways, that was the party. I faked sobriety to my mom when I walked in the door at 1:30 AM, threw off my pretty dress, posted some pictures on Instagram, and collapsed in my bed. It was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions, that night. Probably not something I want to do often though, which I guess is a good trait considering I'm leaving for college soon. Regardless, the night of the 9th was really something else.

One of my better habits that I've developed in the last year or two is taking long drives. If I have nothing else to do, driving is a good way to kill time. After I got my car it just became something I do. I've explored a rather decent amount of northern New Jersey doing this. It's not really something I make a point of doing, I just do it when I feel like it and I think the payoff is surprisingly decent considering it is such a simple thing.

Driving provides me with a sense of clarity that isn't easily attainable at home. There's enough movement and concentration involved to keep me focused but still able to think about other things. It's like crack for my ADHD; the perfect balance of busy and idle. I'm also curious enough to be deeply interested in wherever I am passing through, so I've definitely gotten a good look at areas in Jersey that I've never seen before. Sometimes it's highways and cities, other times woodlands or open fields. I prefer the latter since it's usually less busy and there's more to be seen nature-wise. Driving in rural areas is just so peaceful, especially at this time of year. The fauna of early August is gorgeous and the air is perfect for opening my windows. I like to tap out whatever music I'm playing on the side of my door and just let myself become entranced by the road. I'm honestly pretty mild in terms of my ability to handle adrenaline so I appreciate the excitement I get from keeping a steady speed on a winding road. In the forested areas here, the light shines onto these canopied roads that are my favorite to drive on. I wish they were infinite, but eventually I always find myself back on a highway or in a suburb. Not to say those aren't interesting, but I'd much rather pass through the forests and farmlands. That way I can appreciate the natural beauty and let it overtake me. I love how the forests hug the road so tightly and how I can see the bodies of water shimmering through the tree line. When I come upon field areas it is usually quite sudden, and I'm always overwhelmed by how beautiful that expansiveness is. Nothing is as stunning as seeing that big picture. It's absolutely euphoric.

An important detail about this whole thing is that I don't like taking drives with other people. In fact, it usually ruins the entire experience. The presence of another person is an obligation and a distraction from that "clarity". It's ironic, too, since I wish I could share the joy I get from driving with other people and fondly imagine them there in my passenger seat, but I'm fervently annoyed when they are actually there. Trust me, I've tried, but I just can't do it. The only person who I like driving with is Will since we are on the same wavelength. I haven't gotten the impression that anyone else in my life besides him enjoys the journey the same way I do. My other friends can't even remain quiet for the duration of a 15 minute ride to Ringwood. It's a hard thing to explain, but the silence is important to the whole thing. It's like meditation or something- it's rude to interrupt.

Wanderlust is a good feeling. I really love getting in my car and going nowhere. The best part is that there is hardly ever a destination. When I'm ready to head home, I open Google Maps and shock myself with the time estimation. Usually I end up somewhere between 30-50 minutes from home, but I've driven over two hours before, and a couple times I accidentally went out of state. I love seeing how far the local roads can really take me. My parents ask me where I was when I walk in the door and I probably sound suspicious for saying "I don't know", but there's no dishonesty there. I just like driving. I don't really care where I am, I'll probably enjoy it. Driving is a habit that defines me well because it's something that I do for me to make me happy. It's the purest and most immediate form of visceral happiness I achieve in my daily life.

It is August 3rd. In less than a month I will be in college. I woke up today and that fact hit me like a damn brick. Maybe I've been sheltering myself from that reality for awhile. I know that change can be scary and I know how I handle new situations, and I wouldn't be surprised if I subconsciously prevented myself from counting the days to my departure. So much needs to be done and so much is already happening. I don't like feeling intimidated by it, but I can't lie. I'm nervous.

I think the problem is that I feel like I'm leaving things behind. My friends, pets, and coworkers are what come to mind. I can already see the presaging of specific people and it kills me to think about leaving them. Adam, for example, gave me a much longer hug than usual when he saw me at work the other day. I didn't know why until someone told me he thought I'd left already. And I'm not lying when I say it left me a little distraught. I never thought anyone else would have trouble with my leaving besides me. When I'm gone, will people miss me? Is this the part where everything slips away and life becomes "Cats in the Cradle"? A heap of obligations that casts a shadow over the experiences and people of my childhood? I ask that like I don't know the answer. I am wise enough to know that it needs to happen. If I want to do extraordinary things in my life, I can't stay here. But I also can't see what's next, so I'll have to do what I do best and go with the flow.

Still, I can't help but think I am cumbersome to myself in my sensitivity. Leaving home is emotional for many people my age, but I seriously have no idea how I'll handle it. The "what if" questions actually need consideration. What if my mental health deteriorates in college? What if I can't find healthy coping mechanisms? The last few months have been some of the happiest of my life because I've learned how to manage my conditions. It would be a slap in the face if all that progress slipped away. I will try not to let it be in vain, and I will remain mutable to the world around me. If there's anything I've learned since February it's that joy is always within my reach. I don't need a horoscope to tell me to keep an open mind to it.

I think I've explained most of my concerns, but there is something else. An unconstructed, vague resentment I harbor in my heart. I can't exactly put my finger on it, but it has to do with my evolving politics. I hate my country and its conventional middle class values, but here I am going to university. I have no other choice now but to appease a system I hate. I will not weaken to this system, that I can say definitely. But I don't want to work within it, either. I never mentioned it here but I am majoring in communications and journalism. I am afraid of ending up in a position that helps spread misinformation and lies. I swear to God I'd rather die than cater to the mainstream media.

On a different note, the convenience of internet friends has surely proven itself now. I always knew that when I went to college, I wouldn't be leaving everything behind which provides some comfort. I have three people who I talk to now on a regular basis and since our friendships are purely digital, there are no bittersweet goodbyes to be had. Instead, I'm excited to watch our paths unravel like they always have. It's a small drop of normality in an ocean of uncertainty I possess for my future, but it encourages me.

Today I looked back on several pieces of writing I did in middle school and high school. Everything is saved online nowadays- it's a bit of a luxury to have all this content to look back on. However, reflecting on these old assignments feels like someone squeezing my heart in their fist as hard as possible, and not in a good way. The thing I astound myself with the most is the fact that many, many pieces I wrote for school were... less than satisfactory. Even the ones I actually put effort into at the time pale in comparison to anything here, with the exception of a few essays I wrote more recently. Even then, hardly any of the creative writing I revisited is quality enough to be on this website (except maybe for the purpose of criticism).

It's funny how that works, isn't it? Dreamwidth is a place where I write for leisure, and the impression I get of myself on here hardly encompasses me as a person. For instance, one would never know that a majority of the writing I do outside of this space is pretty uninspired and horrible. That's because this entire journal, at its core, is a hyperfixation. It's a single side of a d20 die, something that works within the confusing parameters of my ADHD. Although I will say, this project has been much more permanent than my other fleeting obsessions. That's all there really is to say about that. I feel it provides a better perspective of myself to those who lay their eyes upon my page, though there is hardly one person here.

This week will be busy. If I am absent throughout it, I will be sure to write another 1000+ word entry about it afterwards. I can already envision the chaos that will entail. Yeesh.

As I drove, the New World disciples whispered to me their enchanting words... If you told me North Jersey was as holy as the shores of the Jordan River, I'd believe you. Divinity was never an external phenomenon- the same moon that reflects in the waters of the Holy Land shines over the Route 23 7/11. Who's to say which one is more beautiful?

This is not an entry I could've ever predicted writing, I don't think. Today I lived a dream of mine and became a mermaid. Bear with me...

I've loved the whole aesthetic idea of mermaids since I was very young- I used to draw them all the time and consume ridiculous amounts of mermaid content on Google and YouTube, wishing I could be one like many children do. That was the golden age of the internet when young minds were truly convinced that these dreams could be real, with junk like "mermaid spells" floating around on different platforms. I remember way back Animal Planet released a mockumentary about mermaids that threw me into a mermaid phase for awhile, and I guess it never really left me because I still really, really love mermaids. For awhile the most difficult thing to accept was the tangibility of "being" one in a sense, though. I knew cosplay items existed for this sort of thing on a professional level, that is, until I discovered that mermaiding is an actual hobby for (relatively) normal people. And thus, I re-entered my mermaid phase back in January.

There is a surprising amount of knowledge needed for mermaids, which I consumed rather quickly given the nature of my fixations. I now know a myriad of different consumer tail manufacturers, the difference between silicon tails and fabric tails, what monofins fit in what tail skins, the works. It's pretty intense. Even before I saw myself engaging in the hobby properly, I learned about breath holding and proper swimming techniques as well as safety measures. The people in the community make it extremely easy and welcoming for newcomers, and there seems to be a lot of people coming into this niche. And for those who really have a passion for it, it seems to go beyond just the aesthetics of all of it. These people love the joy that they bring other people (particularly kids) through their hobbies, not to mention the body-positive narrative that surrounds the whole thing. The diversity of the community is wonderful and unexpectedly supportive of trans people in particular. These people have made their dreams real and encourage others to do the same. Once I started to see that, I realized that maybe this would be a good fit for me. So I became determined.

My first step was cut out for me. I needed a monofin, which is basically a piece of equipment that allows one to swim faster in the water using dolphin kick. There are a variety of styled monofins which fit into their respective tail skins, so I ordered one that is intended for beginners. I had to carefully hide the package from my parents (they don't like the whole thing) and somehow got away with it. After that, I was itching to get in the water and test it out. There aren't many local places near me where I can do that for free, so I went to a fitness center near me to test it out in their Olympic pool. I found it to be suffocating to practice in such a shallow area, but I got the basics down. That was back in April, though. For the last few months I've just been impatiently awaiting a better opportunity and scrolling through different sites looking for the perfect tail skin for me.

By the looks of it, tail skins are the epitome of self-expression for mermaid hobbyists. They pick out tails that speak to them and they become staple pieces. Highly realistic tails are in the $400-$1000 range, but cheaper tails are anywhere from $20-$100. I have a few saved in a folder in my phone, aspirations for if I continue with the hobby. Getting a tail skin will truly make me bona fide, but right now I'm content with just swimming like a mermaid and not looking like one.

Well, I'm more than content, actually. Today was the second time I was able to break out the monofin, and not just in a shallow pool. I'm alone at my college apartment in Galloway at the moment, about 20 minutes from several notable areas around the Jersey Shore. I decided I wanted to utilize some of this time and find a place to truly get the mermaid experience. Fortunately for me, that place is just two miles from my new home and it is immaculate. Just a short hike off-campus from my university sits a small, isolated swimming hole that I call Dream Lake. I found out about it on some obscure website, and headed over this afternoon, monofin in hand. When I approached, cicadas hummed around me in the pine trees and it was all I could hear. Looking to the far end of the lake there are lilypads and assorted aquatic flora that I'm familiar with, as well as a small rocky beach near the edge of the western side. I dipped my feet into the water, which was suprisingly still and warm. The sunkissed surface made it all transparent, and I could see down to the lakebed which was alive with small schools of fish and algae. At that point the lake was begging me to come closer, and so I did.

The experience was remarkably acute. Even with the fin on, I hardly had to get used to it even though I was a bit skittish about being in the woods alone. With my first stroke, I swam some 20 feet out from the shore and emerged just above eye level, where I was met by hundreds of blue damselflies hovering timidly on the surface. I remained observant about that for awhile, and then I floated on my back and stared at the sky, where about a dozen laughing gulls were congregated above. When I closed my eyes, I could hear and feel everything in the ecosystem. I was alone, but at the same time I wasn't. Nature is always busy, it's hard to feel alone in it. The complexities of a space like Dream Lake become clear when I take the time to become part of them. For two hours kicked around like a true merperson, and simultaneously embraced the feeling of fulfillment that had waited 15 years to come to fruition. It was an astounding feeling.

I think we often treat our dreams, particularly those of our childhood, as far-off ideas that will never truly become realities. I guess when you actually seek them out, they are a lot closer than they seem. Today may have been one of the happiest days of my life. This contentedness is so powerful and important to me. It's not every day that a dream comes true, after all. But today, one did, so now I'm a mermaid I guess. Thanks, internet.

I've had a hard time dealing with feelings of guilt in the past, because I'm the type to feel guilty very easily. Obviously when I make mistakes or upset people I become remorseful because yeah, that's what one does. I know I'm not alone in turning that emotion over and over in my head. I hate bringing pain or discomfort to people unintentionally, and that's not really outlandish. I've met many people who feel similarly, in that they work themselves up over these small ways in which they feel like they've bothered others. No one likes to hurt people or feel like a burden, and that's why I think guilt is an especially relatable emotion to me. I've always gotten along with those types... the people who don't want to seem a burden in the slightest and are very conscious of it. I can empathize strongly with humble individuals.

I've been told that I'm a meek person. And it's true- I just want people to be happy. The guilt of hurting anyone is a destructive, hollow emotion and I cannot move past it in the slightest. I don't even like asking my friends for change. But then again, I know better than to live my life a spaniel to those around me. I like to be frank, I'm not terribly obsequious, but I feel remorseful or frustrated by my actions often. I hurt people on accident sometimes and I don't exactly know how or why. I am socially inept and egotistical at times, too, which is pretty ironic. But I never want to harm people, no matter how bad I am at upholding that.

This isn't a pressing issue in my life or anything, though. I'm writing about it because I want to understand it better. I know that I bring much more joy to others than I take away, and I establish good communication in my relationships so that I can be held accountable for my mistakes. I'm not nearly as offensive as I used to be in my early teens, nor am I some sort of sycophant. What I need to work on is being mindful about what I say to others, but not taking it too hard if I mess up. There's a balance there that I think I can achieve, so the two need to work together if I want to improve this aspect of my life. I think that's a pretty fair conclusion.

However, in the meantime, I will continue to think about trivial things I did eight years ago as if they are crimes against humanity.

It's been a week since I've written. Sometimes I go through phases where I can't really write much. I wouldn't call it a slump, it's just my attention being allocated to other places. I'm trying to understand my writing habits since I'm still kind of new to this. Recently I've been doing a lot of mindless feeling and not a lot of thinking. I'm happy, though. Happier than I've been in a long time, that's for sure. One of the sacrifices I make for this journal is analyzing the shit out of everything I do as I'm doing it, and sometimes it feels good to shut that down and just exist for a little while. It's like a vacation.

The passing of days has been a sort of motif in the last week, for reasons I can't fully comprehend. I love the feeling of the sun, the humid mornings and temperate afternoons, the cool, breezy nights. I feel in tune with the movement of everything. I wish I could explain it better at the moment, or at least in more detail. I've been everywhere and back this week and seen things I wish I could keep here forever, but I can't write them properly. And maybe that's okay. Whether I write or not, the sun rises and falls in its melodramatic fashion every day and reminds me that I am real, and that's all I can really ask for.

Of course, despite my contentment, not everything has been just peachy. There are a few bumps in the road, things bringing me down and knocking my jive. Gender dysphoria, a rather unpleasant road trip with my mom, my closest friend feeling a bit distant, stuff like that. I've been working through it all as best I can. The same way I wish I were more confident about my reactions to these situations, I could use a bit more conviction. But such is the ebb and flow of being human- never being completely set in our ways. I've said it before and I'll say it again: things will always work out in the end.

And besides, it all seems so trivial to me right now while I'm in this unfamiliar groove. My current fascination is feeling alive. Lately I've found joy in taking long rides with my windows down, eating ice cream right from the container, staring at trees for long periods of time, simple junk like that. It's weird that I can't seem to rationalize why I've been feeling this way, though. Maybe it's hormones or something. Or maybe I'm just turning into one of those chill white hippie moms on Facebook, the kind who sells essential oils and shit. I don't know and I don't really care. I'm just happy.

Once I can write obsessively again, I think it will be the perfect storm. Who knows what narratives will one day be carefully tapped out by these hands. I see great things in my future. Meanwhile, this simple entry took me over an hour to write and phrase properly, and even then it feels lackluster and vague. But if I know me, it will hit me like a brick again one day and I'll be laboring over my keyboard for hours once more. We'll just have to wait and see.