Strangeworld

I am finally angry about something in my life. If you didn't read the title.

So there's this... ongoing situation with my roommate, Emma. The only time I ever liked her was maybe the first few times I talked to her. Now she is the bane of my existence, and causing me an extreme amount of stress with here recent bullshit, that being, smoking weed inside the house. All night. Yeah.

When I moved into this apartment we had a "no smoking inside" agreement. It not only messes with our lease but just keeps this place from wreaking of weed because who would want that. Emma has her medical card (for some reason?) and has always respected this agreement and prior to July she would only smoke outside and in her room on occasion. That is, until she one day sent us a massive text blabbing about her "medical right" to smoke inside, which she went over with a law student friend of hers. This was after a few times of me complaining about the weed smell being tracked in after she smokes outside. First of all, her legal stuff is, as far as we can tell, bologna. It is still within our apartment complex's right to prohibit indoor smoking. Second of all, her practically demanding to smoke inside without any discussion breaks our roommate agreement and is just clearly inconsiderate. But Emma looks for excuses, not confrontation, and so she sent some garbage legal excuse. While I was home. While she was baked on the couch downstairs.

So I went down there and told her off. This was earlier this month. She didn't care. She even insisted that no smoking was never a condition when I moved in, which it was because if it wasn't I wouldn't have moved in.

Flash forward to now, she just got back from Florida and began smoking in the house again. I went downstairs and complained to her and she blew me off again. Tonight she did the same thing, and this time I snapped a little bit. I told her I'd do everything in my power to make her stop, basically told her to fuck herself, etc.. It's just such a frustrating situation. This morning I went to the office ladies and told them about the situation and they are sending a notice. They said if it keeps happening they will get their legal team involved but it's unclear how much they can do since Emma has her weed prescribed. My mom has also been trying to deal with the situation and said something to Emma's mom. I wanted to get something done that way since Emma is coddled by Mommy and Mommy can probably get her to stop. But if that doesn't work, it will be a lot of force from the apartment complex itself and of course me, and I have now made clear my intention to raise havoc.

My reasoning for not wanting smoke inside the house is pretty obvious. It smells up the whole apartment when she smokes downstairs, and medical weed has such a strong scent that it actually wakes me up if I'm asleep. I think that within itself is reasonable. She can always use a dab pen or edibles like me to avoid the smell, but she'd rather take four huge bong hits (before driving, no less). I also have pets downstairs. Gibraltar, and also my three lizards. Smoking indoors is not recommended with any of these animals. Even before Emma began smoking inside, people complained that our place smelled like weed. I don't want my stuff smelling like weed. Even if it's her "medical right", which it might not even be, the other factors in the situation beg that weed just not be smoked inside. For the safety of my pets, our items, and my down payment. I don't think this is unreasonable. When I brought it up to her, specifically the pet thing, she either blew me off or laughed.

I should also mention that Emma does not smoke responsibly. Although I guess I already have, seeing as she literally has to get high to drive. I've been thinking about reporting her to the police but I'm unsure of how to go about it. She also drinks and drives and already got one DUI in the time I've lived here. She buys tons of weed and tons of alcohol and has functioning dependencies to straight up chronic alcoholism. Her character is even worse than her drug habits. She is self important, ignorant, and borderline delusional with how she perceives her relationships with people. Honestly, I've learned my lesson from this now, but I have used her several times to get weed and alcohol for myself because it's just so fucking easy. I always pay her back, but I'm afraid this will be used against me if parents are involved. I don't really care about preserving her as a "plug", and I am far too upset with the situation now to ever consider that again I think. The one pro about Emma is that she doesn't care if I buy through her because my drug use is so insignificant in comparison. I am not addicted and incapable of personal betterment. Or critical thinking. Or basic thinking, honestly.

The worst part about this situation is that I am being used and I that, to me, is just completely unacceptable. Not just in a personal pride kind of way. It brings me a lot of anxiety, not to be confused with just stress, which, yes there is a lot of that, too. I feel stuck where I am because I can't do anything too malicious without it coming back to bite me, but also have to work in tandem with my mom and go through her whole formal argument rigmarole for anything to change. My mom told me not to get feisty but it's too late now. The text war I had with Emma today was rage-induced and harmful to the efforts I'm trying to make to get her to stop in other areas. I don't think I've been this angry at anyone before and it occurred to me that I don't know how to deal with it. But I just can't stand being taken advantage of, especially by a lowlife junkie. It's infuriating and so, so stressful. I can't get used to it or get it out of my head, especially at night when the weed fumes seep into my room and make my throat hurt. Admittedly, I've resorted to what I tend to do when I'm frustrated and have been self harming. Not in the cutting way, it's different than that but still destructive and dangerous for my body. In addition to getting Emma to stop, I also need to deal with this and the lack of sleep in the meantime. I can't expect the people involved to sympathize or even begin to understand this, but it is really starting to take a toll on me. Just all of it, in general.

I have already looked into moving out before this was a problem, but there is no reasonable way for me to do so. Apartments in Galloway are slim and there is the challenge of finding a roommate to replace me even if I did find a place to stay. How would I even begin to explain that to my replacement? There's also the problem of actually moving, which would require a lot of time and manpower. My parents would have to help in that case and I don't know how to hide all my alcohol, weed, and other private stuff from them. It seems like any option would create a mountain of stress that I can't deal with now since I'm leaving for Europe in 19 days, and after that, school starts immediately.

I'm thinking that maybe I could transfer schools or something. Go to the UK maybe. That would be the real dream, but that's expensive as fuck as well. I guess we'll just see how it goes. I think I'll probably end up staying here on really bad terms with both my roommates. (The other one, Jade, is a whole other story...) But for now, I'm gonna be annoyingly ironic and get high to take my mind of this. And maybe just sleep. It's difficult when I feel so trapped and stressed like this.

This summer has been pretty enjoyable so far. I lack the variety of events and interactions that I would normally write about on here during the school year I think, but some notable things have happened that I feel I should probably write down. June has been a slow month, and for the most part I've just been enjoying the weather, pursuing different interests, and working on several creative projects that have filled in the spot where this journal usually is. I also feel that I have been a lot less lonely recently, which is bizarre seeing as I have absolutely zero real life friends to hang out with (with the exception of Johnny and my other old friends at the station). I complained about it because I was seriously depressed back in May and early June. I've been really happy though. I think it's just because it's been so long. I feel fulfilled by my online friendships and I don't really know how to explain my relationship with the whole thing, but something has changed and I haven't felt lonely in the slightest.

Some remarkable things that happened last month include my dad's 52nd birthday, which we spent together down here. The Dead Kennedys were playing at Anchor Rock Club so we saw them together and it was great. We met a mother and son that were around our ages and stuck with them all night. Johnny was there, too, so it was a weird mix of people I like in the same place. He had a good time. It was weird being in a mosh pit with my dad. It was also weird crowdsurfing with my dad. I got to cross that one off the bucket list...

I also very recently got a new job after leaving my other one at the Surf Mall some time ago. I did gig work for Edible Arrangements for a couple days where I delivered orders to people in all the beach towns surrounding Somers Point. I enjoyed it a lot so I called up the delivery service that provides the drivers and asked them for a permanent part-time position. Thankfully, it worked out so tonight I start shift #3. So far on the last two I've delivered in and around Northfield for a few different businesses, and tonight I am stationed at a pizza joint. It's honestly very enjoyable work. It's not super profitable or anything but I get to drive, meet people, listen to my tunes, wear what I want, and keep my piercings (which was up in the air for awhile with other jobs of a similar nature that I had been accepted for). I like that I get to call the shots and feel depended on. Even though it's just delivery, this dynamic has so far been great for me.

Other than that nothing is really new. Corey and I finished Breaking Bad and now we are watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Things have been great as ever in that arena. I went to the urgent care twice this week... uh... what else? I made baked potato skins. And Gibraltar ate half a raw pork chop off the counter yesterday, but he was fine. Very interesting, I know. There's really not all that much to talk about that I haven't already written about already, but I'm okay taking it slow right now. There are some things worthy of their own entries that I'll work on when I have the time. I'm content with where I am and what I have to look forward to, though. Maybe soon things will pick up a bit and I'll have more interesting stuff to discuss.

Sometimes I feel I've neglected this place since I don't write as frequently as I used to. But honestly, I think I'm only neglecting myself. I haven't written enough to know if I have gotten out of shape or not. The lack of entries bothers me, especially since a lot is happening.

Right now I'm at my parent's house because we are going to Georgia on the 1st through 5th for August's graduation from SCAD. I am feeling apprehensive, since the last time I had to take the grueling 12-hour road trip with my parents (in 2020) it did not go well. I came back up yesterday to fix my car and hang with Vincent, and still I almost regret it because even though I'm here I wish I wasn't. It's just my mom. Same old story. I don't want to be around her. Big surprise. I'm not here to bitch though. Some interesting stuff happened to me recently, at least "interesting" in terms of this journal.

I went back to Dream Lake and swam last week, which felt good. The water is still very cold and it isn't teeming with sounds and movement like it is later in the summer, but the flora is returning at its own pace. I saw some dragonflies and aquatic beetles when I was there. I swam for a short while too, which took the edge off and relieved my tender muscles after that Exploited concert. I didn't talk about that much either, but I sang on stage at this one. Another weird little memory to possess. That was a fun show. I made a friend named Greg sent me a list of bands I need to listen to. He is going to be at the Dead Kennedys show at Anchor Rock Club next weekend. I get free tickets there because my radio station works with them, and I invited my dad to that show for his birthday. It will be a weird overlap of my family and college friends, you know, who are at least old enough to be my parent. I'm sure poor Dad will be confused.

I went to another show on the 27th... in a cellar. In the middle of rural, middle-of-nowhere New Jersey. It was this dude's massive property with a dirty white house and a bright red outdoor cellar... the kind for tornadoes or nuclear fallouts or something. Bizarre. The host, Guttz, is an elusive and peculiar DJ from WLFR who plays all sorts of punk and underground metal and stuff. I shadowed him when I was training and he said hardly anything the entire two hours- just me staring wide-eyed at this man spinning vinyl on the air like a madman. The dude is a myth and hosts punk shows in the middle of nowhere in a cellar for fuck's sake. Johnny and I have been become tighter recently and he sent me the flyer to this particular show. It was only 20 people or so waiting outside Guttz's cellar and it felt more like a family barbeque than a show. The bands were tight, and so was the crowd. It was so loud down there, the bands all played on the ground (of course) next to the Round-Up and gardening tools. Possibly the best part of it was this young girl- 6 and a half- running the mosh pit in her little sparkly pink Doc Martens. She was so energetic and confident, and had these awesome parents who I talked to a bit. They raise their kids in the subculture and while many may judge their decision I don't think I've ever seen a kid that happy without an iPad in their hands. I made friends with her and she showed me a dead snake.

Maybe it just got away from me briefly but writing about things makes me feel more whole. I'm in a good place right now, aren't I? I like being okay with life moving and changing.

So yeah that's what is up. Since I'll be in Georgia I'll probably write more. It will be an interesting, hopefully pleasant, week.

Also, I'll take this opportunity to brag about my final grades this year.

Semester 1:
A A A- B+
Semester 2:
A A A- A-

Nearly straight As, somehow. Not that it means anything at all, no... Not to me! I'm too punk to care about grades! Totally... :-)

A lot has happened this past month. Too much. I feel like I've experienced mental whiplash, and my writing is totally out of shape because I just couldn't find the motivation to write. Things happen, life changes, yada yada.

I guess the first thing to mention is that I finally got a job. It's at the Surf Mall in Ocean City and it seems like an okay fit for me so far. It's basically just retail, but since most of our patrons are vacationers it makes for a unique variety of merchandise and business practices. One of the most important parts of my job is watching for shoplifters, which apparently is a huge problem there. I have two managers who I have worked with so far- Chris and Hank. Chris is okay, he wasn't very happy when I told him I'll be gone for two weeks in August and is a bit aloof compared to Hank, who is easier to get along with. He's taught me the ins and outs of my job and we have a good dynamic on the sales floor. Hopefully I do a good enough job to stay there.

I also started birth control last week. I think today is day six. There were a few reasons why I was considering this but stopping my period is at the top of the list since it brings me gender dysphoria. If the side effects of estrogen aren't too bad, I will be able to eliminate most of my discomfort and hopefully live much more comfortably. It feels good to have this level of control over my body, and to my surprise my parents didn't really seem to mind it. It's covered by insurance anyways, so I didn't really feel a need to go behind their backs like August tends to do. They just had their uterus removed and didn't even tell anyone until the week before, but that's a whole different story. I talked to them on the phone about it and they said they feel "very transgender".

More recently I've been dealing with clinical depression again. I don't think I was regularly keeping this journal the last time this happened to me, but I have Lexapro prescribed for when it does. Honestly, I always forget that I have clinical depression. It's easy to when you don't experience it that often. What matters to me is that I'm still functional. My grades have slipped slightly since I started to feel it but not to the extent that I'm super worried about it. It's just a lot of not wanting to get out of bed, feeling hopeless, not eating, etc.. I feel much more responsible for myself this time around so it isn't as bad.

School has been alright. I'm not really fond of the impression I think people have of me there. It's not necessarily bad, but I'm just so self conscious I forget where that line is drawn. I'm supposed to accept an award on Thursday at the Communication Department's end-of-year party. I don't know what the hell that entails, but hearing that it was happening made me honestly super awkward. I can't think of anything I've done that deserves an award and I really don't want to be recognized for anything so hopefully it isn't as big of a deal as the PR majors have made it out to be. You know they are good at hyping things up.

Radio is good. Gibraltar is still sick. Everything else worth talking about needs to be put in a private entry. I promise a lot has happened, the details always escape me in front of the screen. I just want to be concise so I remember what the fuck is going on in my life and don't lose track. I'd say, in terms of writing, I am out of shape. Well, physically also. And mentally.

That's college for you.

It's my birthday.

Time moves so fast in the early morning. I'm slightly hungover at the moment, nullified by a few rips off the dab pen. I woke up to my roommate blasting music at 3:00 AM, and, not being able to fall back asleep, I decided to do some homework.

I ended up down a rabbit hole when I was reminded of a commercial I saw in my childhood that I can't seem to find... so I guess it's lost media. It was with a charity with a really fascinating history and downfall called One Laptop Per Child. Obviously, at the time in which I saw the ad for this I had no idea about any of the issues this charity had, so it was weird to learn that it failed. Anyways, I could have sworn the ad was with McDonalds or Gogurt or something... something very childish. Or maybe it wasn't, I don't know. I'd love to see it again and get that good rush of nostalgia and satisfaction. Lost media really is such an enriching hobby because I always learn about some obscure thing like this.

It's supposed to be warm out today. I will be doing work for most of it, but I am having a small online party with my friends tonight. I'll probably get lots of texts from my relatives which will be nice. For dinner I'll get takeout as a treat to myself. I could use a good meal. But for now I think I should sleep off my hangover.

"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 had a dream last night that reminded me of a book I used to read in my childhood. It was a graphic novel called Laika that told the story of a famous dog of the same name that was sent into space by the Soviet Union. It is in many capacities an extrapolation of real people and events in order to make the story interesting, but it's also pretty grim. When I read it for the first time in elementary school, it stood out to me since most of the stories I consumed at that age had happy endings. I just purchased a hardcover copy of the book recently and after reading it again I noticed there are many ideas in it that I definitely couldn't have understood when I first read it. It's a fantastic read for adults, honestly, and the illustration is wonderful. In the darkest moments of the story, the art comes to life in these "magic realism" segments, where the cold tones suddenly become slow, colorful, and dream-like. The part that stood out to me the most when I first read it is the ending, where Laika dreams about flying over the USSR and all of the people she met in her life, just before her death. It's bleak about its themes, and when I was younger it put me in a solemn state. I liked that about it then and I do now.

But anyways, that specific dream sequence was what I was reminded of in my sleep last night. It's too difficult and hazy for me to describe but it happened, and I wasn't dying like the dog in the book so I'm happy about that. I love having dreams like that, where I'm flying at night. This one was rather timely I think.

Yesterday I went job hunting. I have been dying to travel ever since I got my passport, and for that I need money. So I walked into a pet store yesterday, told them I'm good with aquariums and lizards, and they looked relieved. It seems they really need someone to help out with the fish tanks. I'll likely get a call back this week, and if not then onto the next store I go. I'm going to save my money and there's one place I want to go the most: the English countryside. Mostly because that's where Corey is and I'm pretty sure we'd have the time of our lives, but also because it just seems so alluring. I desperately want to experience something alien to me. I love everything that my British friends have told me, and of course it's insane to think of that being someone's "normal" (the same way mine is insane to them). Being so far away from people that I love and their entire worlds used to be painful to think about when I was younger, but now I'm old enough to make these things happen. I made a promise that I would make this happen, and I am really counting on myself to succeed. It will be the largest goal I ever work towards alone.

There's a lot on my plate now. Or at least it feels like it. It hit me yesterday that I might want to start taking better care of myself. I haven't been smoking as much weed recently which has helped with my energy. I need to eat better during the day and clean my horribly neglected room. I should probably anticipate the workload picking up soon, but I'm not sure if that will happen. In addition to my classes, I'm volunteering with the radio station now and doing training. That's been interesting by the way, and I'll probably make a designated post for that once my training is over. As of right now, five days of my week are mostly off- Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I don't know what my new schedule will look like but it will probably be vastly different. Some things are going to have to go on the backburner for now, but as long as my mental health and grades don't slip I'll be fine. I'm now, unfortunately, a functioning adult after all.

I had a good day on Tuesday blah blah blah Bagel Club went well and so did the radio station, nothing I want to talk about even though Tuesday was amazing or whatever.

Call this harping on the bad, but on Wednesday my car was broken into. I swear this is much funnier than it sounds. Broken into while parked outside of my home, nonetheless. I opened my door to find the contents of my glovebox all over the seat and my chocolate vodka cherries MISSING. As well as my ABBA cassette and a couple CDs. They also took my embroidered seat covers which I guess sucks but it isn't too bad. Honestly, when I found my car in that state I just started laughing because I was really looking forward to those chocolates. Having them stolen from my car is the most "that would happen to Ricky" thing ever. It gave me a good laugh, I'm just glad nothing important was taken. I let the ladies at the front desk of my complex know and they said a few people had called about having their cars stolen from as well. I hope whoever it was enjoys those discontinued Trader Joe's chocolates with the high alcohol content, as well as my beloved ABBA cassette. It's a bit sad and I feel violated but what matters is that nothing critical was gone, not like I keep important stuff in my car anyway.

I also had a bit of a sobering moment the other day where I came to the realization that I've actually been pretty ungrateful recently. I get upset frequently, as well as jealous and petty. I know I wrote the other day about being generally unhappy and while that isn't untrue, I feel like there are things about that that are within my control. I have a lot going for me right now in life with Bagel Club and the radio station and my classes, and that's all great, but using that as my requirements for being happy is actually dragging me down. There was a time of about eight years where I dreamed of the academic success and motivation that I have now and thought that it would relieve all of my anxiety. Now I know that while I love what I have been able to achieve in university, it does not fulfill me in the slightest. What fulfills me is being able to see that what I do here brings joy to other people, and I can't think of anything more important for my own happiness than that. Status and success are cool and all, but they really aren't all they're cracked up to be. They pretty much mean nothing if you are desolate all the time. While I admittedly feel that way frequently, it doesn't mean that I should be taking the people I do have for granted because I might as well have nothing without them. I don't really know how to explain it. I spent a long time thinking, and coming out of it I guess I just feel a little more clear about what I need.

I might take a short break from writing since I feel I have some things I need to work out with myself right now. Sometimes this place turns into a constant stream of life updates and nothing of actual substance, so I'd like to step away from that for a little while. As much as I love to word vomit, it gets me nowhere.

I've been sort of unstable today. The excitement of being home has dwindled as I remember that I wasn't actually doing too hot down at Stockton despite the crazy improvement in academic performance.

Therapy has been going alright. I had an appointment today and I felt it was a good balance between talk therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy so I'm able to make the most of it. Today we talked about things that have been dragging me down recently and my therapist suggested I begin exposure therapy for my OCD and social anxiety. She asked me where to put a specific issue I had this week on a scale out of 10, which let me gauge whether I should confront it or not. I was able to, but I didn't get the outcome I had hoped for and I feel like it will be difficult for me to untangle the mess of social fears I possess. I am also starting exposure therapy for my hypochondria which I am, unsurprisingly, very hesitant to approach. I have faith that I can improve but I am unsettled by the challenges I will have to face. I have already made some progress with the specific OCD disorder I'm attending therapy for in the first place, and while I am proud of my achievements there in the past two weeks, the inability to conduct this behavior has caused me to feel constantly on edge and agitated. It has not bode well for me or the few people who talk to me.

I deliberately refused to foresee this when I was on break, but being back at college has put me back in a very lonely position. It is starting to frighten me that I don't have the support network I need to stay healthy, and that writing has been filling in frequently. What is most upsetting is that I have also to some degree acclimated to it, and while I think it's important to enjoy one's own company, I feel increasingly dissatisfied with the lack of socialization. What happened last semester will undoubtedly happen again, and in terms of meeting people I have found myself trapped. It's hard to talk to people I'm interested in here and when I do I always manage to fuck it up somehow. It's gradually getting more hopeless. In addition to that, with everything happening at home, I am feeling a bit more lost and cold. At the very least, I knew home would always be there for me but now there's anywhere I'd rather be. I desperately crave other people in my life and yet I can't manage to keep it together with the people I have now. At least Gibraltar is there at the end of the day to curl up by my feet and give me something to care for.

In retrospect of writing this, I feel I've lost touch again with things I find important. I feel out of shape mentally. I keep trying to commit to myself and be better and keep falling below where I'm aiming. I hope a breeze comes under my wings and makes things a little easier.

Yesterday I went back to college, although now I think I should just call it home. Gibraltar was less than pleased with the two hour drive, but luckily he seemed to forget all about it when I opened his carrier in the apartment. He did some thorough exploration of all the rooms and my enthused roommates spent some time fawning over him. Overall he adjusted pretty quickly, and all last night he was cuddled up beside me on my bed for the first time. I think I've earned his trust. Barbra Streisand once sang that "a house is not a home", which resonated with me deeply on those bleak nights I spent plastered last semester. But with Gibs here to keep me company, I feel the apartment is now a home.

Speaking of getting plastered, last night I made the best mistake of my life. My biggest problem with alcohol is that I still retain my better judgement even when I'm intoxicated, making me possibly the most boring drunk on this fucking rock. Corey and I decided to celebrate my return home last night by getting drunk together (over voice chat as per usual) and I drank my rum straight from the bottle. At one point I watched Corey sip his beer, trying to get it down quickly but with some difficulty. So I decided to "show him how it's done" and drank a negligible amount of my reserves in one go. It was definitely the most intoxicated I've been off alcohol, not something I would want to do often but it sure as hell was fun with my friend. It's weird how perception, emotions, and specifically laughter change while drunk. I like the closeness that comes with it. I can't think of anyone else I'd want to do drugs with besides Corey, who thinks he is poor at expressing his appreciation for others but still manages to do a better job than anyone else I know.

It really is a blessing to be this young and stupid and free. I went to bed at 9:40 PM and woke up at 2:30 AM, still drunk and with my body withering away into the hangover, with Gibraltar melting into my side and purring like a motorboat. Around 7:00 when I got up for class he kept trying to eat my cereal while I sat on the couch all fatigued. Simple things. Now I'm in the Stockton Campus Center attending my first day of classes as if nothing happened last night, and tonight I get to do some grocery shopping and see Vic. I'm so grateful for all of this. I'm grateful to have people I love and things to come home to. And God am I glad to be away from all the things that were dragging me down up north. It just feels good to be back.

I didn’t really have time to write about it this week but I was finally able to get my recommendation letter for an emotional support animal. Needless to say, I was overjoyed because at this point I didn’t really think it would happen, and even if it did I thought the process would be slow. I guess I was wrong because today is a big day for me. I am going to two different shelters with the intention of bringing home a cat. Hopefully everything goes to plan and I’ll finally have a companion with me at college. Getting that letter was excessively difficult, but it paid off in the end. I haven’t told many people so I can’t wait to surprise them, especially my roommates and Vic. The people I did tell seemed excited for me but it’s only a handful. I’m still slightly in shock that this was able to happen, and I can’t wait to meet all the cats today. Even if I don’t bring one home immediately, at least I’ll get to be in a giant room full of cats. Having an emotional support animal really is a step forward for my mental health at college. I’m really looking forward to today.

Today was not good.

It hurts to watch an animal in it's last moments. Such a destructive feeling. I experienced an almost unfathomable deal of grief and distress today over Lazlow, my poor fish, who is hanging on by a thread amidst illness that has caused him to take a turn for the worst. If things weren't worse, my work schedule means I just can't be there for him in his final days. Today, I gave him some medications to make his death as painless as possible. I felt sick myself when I saw him laying on his side, gasping and lethargic, and hardly able to move.

With it comes a flood of overwhelming guilt that is objectively unreasonable for such a small animal. The way I see it, aquariums are spaces that are completely controlled by the caretaker. The condition of the animals inside is the owner's complete responsibility. I know fish are sort of feeble, fickle animals to keep but I can't help but think that I have failed Lazlow despite my best efforts. He was one of the best fish I've ever kept, too. He was active and clever and I drained my bank account this last month trying to save him, but I just couldn't. I feel dreadful about it. I know it's unhealthy to think this way, but all I can tell myself is that I should've done better and that I failed. Lazlow brought me so much joy. I wish Will were here because he understands what it's like.

I just hope my fish is able to pass away peacefully.

Also, my dad wasn't able to come check on my animals with me today, unfortunately. But to make things worse, when I got home tonight my parents and I got into a screaming match which sucked because when people yell at me I just start crying. I always storm out because I get scared. I wish I could just be strong all the time, and stand up and defend myself, but I always end up with my tail between my legs. My parents were upset at me because of all these trivial little things and I just don't understand what I'm doing wrong anymore. It's my mom who always initiates these arguments but my dad will butt in if he's in the room and make things 100x worse by raising his voice at me. It makes me feel like I can't trust him either when he automatically takes Mom's side. Living here is just an absolute nightmare, far worse than it has ever been, and I'm becoming agitated. Impatient. I want to go home. If I had it my way, I would have stayed at the apartment for the holidays with my animals. It feels pathetic that cold-blooded animals with few emotions bring me more comfort and warmth than most people in my life.

I should probably write about how this Christmas sucks already, or how much stress I’m under, or how my mom said a racial slur at dinner last night and no one knows how to face her tomorrow, but I am sincerely too shocked to even know where to begin. I don’t want to sit here and preach about “the good stuff” either so I guess I’m in limbo at 3:50 AM on Christmas Day.

I am really sick of being here. I can’t wait to go back to college. Whatever shit I was complaining about while I was there pales in comparison to the torture that is my pathetic, decrepit mother who decided that saying the n word (with the hard r) was appropriate at dinner last night. Yeah. My sibling immediately engaged in argument with her and I simply put my hands up and went to my room. My mom stupidly defended herself and even tried to argue that us saying “ACAB” was comparable to racial slurs… to which I let out a deliberate, scornful laugh through the door. Later, I heard her trying to rationalize something to August through crying and pleading but I don’t know what came of that. Probably nothing. It’s hard to stay asleep from how anxious this situation has made me.

I wish a falling out would happen and I could be estranged from the woman altogether. I am thinking about starting work at school and trying to get my biggest assets in my name, such as my car, insurance, lease, etc.. There’s no way I can make that much while I’m studying but I figure the more financially independent I can be, the more control I can exercise over my familial relationships as a whole. I can’t hide my disdain forever.

I hope my mom is feeling the whole extent of shame and abandonment she deserves to feel for how she acts. When I said goodbye to my grandparents last night, she gave me this forlorn, teary look and I just stared blankly back. All the facades I put up just to tolerate her dissolved in that moment alone, so maybe she knows how I truly feel about her now. I fucking hope so. I hope she feels helpless and ashamed, but knowing her, she will probably bury the feeling of being wrong deep down until she can pretend that all is normal.

At least for me, this is just further proof. Evidence that my parents’ authority is not one to be heeded. My mother is not a respectable person, and given my tendency to forgive, I need every reason I can get to prove it to myself. I never imagined that my family might reach this level of chaos and misery, but we are well on our way. When I put everything into perspective, I just feel really disappointed and hurt. I don’t want to face the morning at all.

One thing on my bucket list that I was able to cross of the other day was plainly labeled “hang with The Boys”. There are no specific Boys in mind, I’ve just always had the desire to chill with a group of guys who call themselves “The Boys”. You know, just some dudes who are really close with each other to the point where they can shed all those masculine expectations set for them. From the outside, those groups of people always look so content and comfortable, even if they are doing stupid shit. I feel like, given my disposition, it’s the hardest type of group to infiltrate because of my sex so it has been on the list for awhile. I think I’m a little scary to most straight men. But I checked it off the other day thanks to Vic.

Vic grew up in Trenton with two people, Rony and Denzel, who are now his closest friends. He told me all sorts of stories about what it was like living in a poor area growing up and how their relationship got stronger as they got through it together. They were together almost every day apparently, mostly hanging out and getting high and sometimes shoplifting entire carts full of stuff from Walmart. But from the way Vic described his friends, I could tell they were both very interesting, intelligent people. Mostly because Vic is, too. Vic and I were both excited for me to one day meet them. Sure enough, that was the other night.

Something about being in a men’s dorm after 8:00PM feels a bit cursed. When I arrived, everyone was already baked and it was exactly what I anticipated from the so-called Boys. It was me, Vic, Rony, Denzel, and Vic’s roommate, Matt. Two of them were intently contemplating a game of chess, and the other two were playing Super Smash Bros. I received a brief cheer when I walked in, and immediately took a seat. Denzel asked me a lot of questions about myself and we had this great conversation about media. It’s so interesting, I’ve never met a guy like him before. He’s hilarious, to begin, but also really good at holding a conversation in a way that doesn’t feel one-sided. Same thing with Matt, who is a Literature major and was telling me about what his courses were like. They were so sweet and welcoming, and not in some weird creepy chivalrous sort of way. I immediately felt part of the group.

I’m quite analytical of that type of stuff. Conversations and dynamics and things like that. It’s really not every day that you can encounter a group of new people you feel instantly comfortable around, especially me since I always feel like I have to perform in groups like that. Admittedly, I overthought some things and probably said things that came off as sort of awkward ir nervous. I’m not known to be tactful. But they just don’t care, and that’s the difference. In situations like that sometimes I prefer to sit back and observe instead of actually interact, but I didn’t feel limited to that. One thing I found interesting was how a group of cisgender men could naturally generate a conversation on abortion (an agreeable one at that) and be so well spoken about it. I don’t meet a lot of men like that. Seriously, it was surreal. And really fun. REALLY fun. At one point we all crowded into Rony’s Toyota and went to the convenience store, where Denzel covered our ice cream costs and we all chilled out and watched a movie. They were such enthusiastic and kind people that I was able to loosen up for the first time in awhile, Vic and I have been so busy that it was much needed.

Vic also seemed pretty happy with how things went. He said it was exactly how he thought us meeting would go. I’m glad it went that way, too, just for his sake. Unfortunately, Rony and Denzel go to different colleges so they don’t come around often. But when they do, evidently I’ll be there for it because according to them I am now one of The Boys. Mission achieved.

Since the semester started I've had quite a few uncomfortable encounters with people who just don't have a grasp on gender identity at all. Either that or they are deliberately disrespectful to me on purpose. Being non-binary and asking people to respect your pronouns (mine are they/them) is a great way to see how much a person is willing to understand you, and although my friend Vic is great with it, I can't say the same for other people at my university. I am still astonished by how little effort people are willing to afford me.

Things were good for the first month and a half. I'm not some pronoun Nazi who constantly bashes people for messing up my name or pronouns when I meet them. I don't get ridiculously uncomfortable by it either, and this has never been a problem. However, when you have to remind someone over the course of months to use your fucking pronouns it gets annoying. This one girl in my Mass Communications course, Jayda, is a repeat offender of wrong pronouns and although I've kindly asked her multiple times, she never improves. One of the hardest parts about being trans for me is being forward about these things because I don't like being a forward person. However, it has reached a point where Jayda makes the same degenerate excuse each time. Finally the other day I put my foot down and straight up told her how disrespectful she is for not even trying. And of course, the same daft apology. I don't care if it's the end of the semester. If she does it again I will straight up tell her how dislikable she has made herself.

In addition to Jayda, a couple weeks ago I realized that my professor in Mass Comm didn't even change my name in her roster. It wasn't a problem with attendance before so I didn't think anything of it. Until the other day when she announced my deadname to the class, which was bad by itself, but immediately after she corrected herself and so now everyone in that class knows my deadname. When I hear that name it fills me with dread. What made things worse was that a transphobic asshole in my class named Steve referred to me by it. If I weren't in class I would've hit him. I want so badly to tear the shit out of that guy, but I can't. The same kid told me he "doesn't have pronouns" so I stopped using them for him when I speak to him. I only refer to him by his name, Steve, and it's funny because he tries to be nice about it. Whenever someone messes up my name or pronouns in class, Vic and I just look at each other and laugh about the absurdity of it. The degree to which people just don't give a shit is amazing.

Aside from that, I've had professors mess it up innocently and just not know the etiquette of what to do in that situation. I'm not going to blame people for not being educated about the interests of trans people. But it definitely pisses me off when we are required to give our pronouns for something. I know it's supposed to create a "safer space", but my pronouns are something I'd rather not share until I talk one on one with someone and I know many people are the same way. It's annoying and pretentious for people to go around sharing their pronouns in my opinion. But I don't speak for everyone, I like to be more private about my gender identity and expression and I wish no one would even ask about it, frankly. I'm more than enthused to explain things to close friends or people who approach me because they want to learn. But I don't like having my pronouns on display like that, I don't like being exposed.

I'm definitely nitpicking. I didn't come out in high school so I never dealt with transphobia in person before. Online it's so easy to block people or humiliate them, but I can't beat the shit out of Steve/Steveself in class. I swear I don't even think about my gender identity until people pull shit like this. I didn't make a choice to be genderfluid. Maybe when the semester ends I'll invite that Steve kid out to a dark alley and kick him in the balls.

I always say I’m sick, or that I feel sick when I’m probably not. Feigning illness is a compulsion I experience because I am a hypochondriac, and since I’m aware of it I tend not to listen to my body when it becomes truly sick, but I know without a doubt that I am right now.

I don’t know what it is but I’m not jumping to conclusions. Unfortunately the feeling of being actually sick is so uncomfortable and anxiety inducing for me that I feel completely restless. Being physically ill leaves me helpless and out of control. I’d maybe be more comfortable if I had a person looking after me, or maybe my cat to keep me company, but I think it’s important for me to tough this out alone. I need to learn how to get through stuff like this without other people because they can’t be there for me all the time. Yeah, it sucks, but even if I feel like shit this can at least be an opportunity.

Hypochondria is another drip in the bucket when it comes to my severe and progressive OCD, which has been a repeating theme here because God does it affect me. It makes somewhat normal occurrences like this very painful and difficult. I am so overwhelmed by the thought of my plans being messed up by this that I feel distressed, on top of the physical discomfort. It is finals week and I have a lot of work to do but I can’t even get up to take aspirin. I’m completely stressed out.

Recently I feel all I talk about on here is pain. Frankly I’ve been struggling and I know I need professional help again. I can endure sickness for a couple days, but I can’t manage my conditions alone anymore. I need someone real to talk to and I need guidance. Because at moments like this I realize how easy it is for me to lose my grip and fail to manage all these responsibilities. I feel like I have no one to talk to about OCD because I struggle with my mental health so frequently that it gets redundant and frustrating for others. I just haven’t been very happy recently. As much as I sit with my feelings I can’t help but resent them. My drug use as of recently has been absurd because of this. I need to go back to therapy and I’m so scared to tell my parents.

I guess writing helps me take my mind off it a little. The reason I write about this negative stuff all the time is because it is like looking in a mirror. In my reflection now I see an anxious and lonely person. As long as I can recognize those vulnerabilities I can work on them. It’s my most useful tool even though it probably makes this blog sort of depressing.

I wish I could write more to keep myself distracted but I can’t write forever. I really don’t want to burden my friends with this but I want to talk about it so bad. It takes all my strength to remind myself that I’m not dying. OCD has such a grip on me. It’s suffocating. Whatever, I’ll get through it.

I'm back at college. Thanksgiving was alright. I will say, I'm a thankful person in general but it's nice to have an excuse to express it. I'm really glad I got to see my family and friends this week even if they push my buttons sometimes. Frankly, I think a week is the maximum amount of time I am able to amicably exist around my mom without our relationship crumbling. By the end of the week my mom and I were getting sick of each other again which is how I've determined this. Even the smallest thing will remind me of why I don't like living with her. But yeah, I'm in college and I live alone. Who would want to go back and be nagged by their parent? Not me. We were fine for most of the week though. We watched a movie and made food together, the usual. I spent time with my Dad last week as well. He took me to the gun range and we shot his .22 rifle together along with his Glock, and even though I was nervous about maybe not being a sharpshooter like him, turns out it might be in our genes. I think going to the range might become a regular activity for us when I'm home. He also took me to the bar the other night after a friend flaked on me and we got to see his friend's band play their final performance. He always looks so genuinely happy to bring me with him. I love spending time with my dad.

Unfortunately that type of social stimulation slips away so quickly here at college. It's just so painfully lonely here, and I hate that it's the only thing I have to write about. Most of what I did have going for me here has sort of washed away as the workload has become more intense. The only two people I talk to regularly are Corey and a mutual friend of ours, and sure we do a ton of shit together but I think it's better to have a balance of real life friends and internet friends. My dilemma is that real life is slim pickens when it comes to people worth keeping close. I don't really have the opportunities to meet new people here, and when I do they disappoint me. Except for Vic of course, but he's a busy guy and I understand that. I never really thought this would be a problem when I went to college which is why it's bringing me down so hard. I had it going for me back home, too. Maybe the ball will start rolling when I join the radio station next semester.

Speaking of which, I can finally confirm to myself that radio is something I want to get into and hopefully make a career out of. It's going well for me. I've got the voice, I've got the musical knowledge, and I have more motivation than I know what to do with. I'm working hard towards it. A little while back I scrapped an entry about what kind of things I would do with a platform like that, and really it comes down to highlighting the voices of marginalized people. Other people's stories have changed how I think about things, and I want a platform to broadcast those stories to other people. I want to have meaningful discussions with other people because that's something I strive for in my life anyway. What better way than radio? Or maybe a talk show somewhere down the line. I could be like Ellen but without being an absolutely massive dick off camera.

In other news, Corey and I just finished and released an album that we have been working on since early October. That sounds like not a lot of time, but that's because we are both pretty... novice to say the least. And in my case, completely unexperienced with music production as a whole. Which is why we made it our goal to create music that sucks on purpose, just to be able to experiment without some golden standard to look up to. We ended up with 18 tracks and they are so bad we can't even get them published on Apple Music or Spotify or anything. Which I guess means that we succeeded, and God I had a great time making it. A lot of time, effort, and laughter went into creating it so even if it's a joke, it means a lot to me. I think it's important to have projects and outlets like that to fuck around and test your creativity. Corey and I had so much fun with it that we now have more projects in the work as a creative duo. Currently we are working on our Christmas EP.

That's pretty much all the stuff I forgot to talk about in November. Oh, I've also been listening to this one album on repeat lately. The Weather by Pond. I love finding albums that blow my mind the way this one does, especially albums from Australian new psych bands.

But no maggots up my sleeve.

I always say this, but I had the best night ever in my life the other night. Truly the peak human experience, or at least that's how it feels every time I get to go out and do something fun.

A friend of mine who I only know online had an extra ticket for a show in Philadelphia. This friend, Allie, is in a band and I was able to meet all but the bassist when I picked them up on a whim at the 30th Street Station. I don't think I've ever hit it off so quickly with a group of people. Their company was great, and surprising since I have never really interacted with Allie outside of the context of being Instagram mutuals. They were obviously such a tight group and I made sure I didn't infringe on that, which was cool because I got to hear them talk about their music and creative process. A few people outside the gig recognized them from their past shows, and that definitely put things into perspective for me. I guess since that stuff interests me I sort of overvalue it, but I was able to take away a lot from it. They also seemed to like me a lot, which is a pretty new feeling for me, and despite having not even a mere stroke of musical talent they invited me to their band practice tomorrow. It excites me as a storyteller.

As for the show, well, as you can imagine, headbanging with them at the front of the stage to some truly awesome music totally made my night. I had done jack shit all day and planned to do jack shit all night, but instead I got to do that, and that little impulsive piece of me is something I cherish. The headlining band was Screaming Females, who apparently are pretty well known in the New Brunswick indie scene, and they blew my mind. The opening bands, TVO and Sweeping Promises, were two totally unique experiences as well.

It's rare for me to meet people I can have a good time with like that. After we parked in Philly, we found this shopping cart and pushed each other around in it before and after the show. And afterwards, when we all got back to my car, there was a giant violation sticker on my windshield and we laughed our asses off removing it with the help of Mel's acrylic nails, some water, a towel, and my trusty pocket knife. Since I had to drive them all home I got to learn a lot about them in that time. It was amazing. I got home at 2 am and was hallucinating on the way home because I was tired but it was fine. And get this- they even paid for gas.

Anyways, my parents visited the other day which was fun. It's funny, they have been so good with respecting my independence and privacy since I got here. And since it's been awhile, they were happy to see me. Of course I was totally prepared to have them visit and they were shocked by how clean my apartment and room was and how good my grades are. For the first time in years they looked proud of me. It almost makes me think I'm doing something wrong, but maybe they are just doing something right. They are okay with me going to crazy punk shows in Philadelphia and interviewing strangers and drinking at home here and there. Besides my drug use I don't really think there is much that they are worried about with me. I want them to know that their money (for my tuition) is worth it and that I take my education seriously. After they left, I felt distinguished. I felt respected in a way I sort of wasn't before.

Also, they brought the dog with them. At one point they left her with me for a couple hours and she slept on my bed and we watched documentaries together, just like in the summer. I miss my pets the most. I've been thinking about getting a cat and how that might help with things being so lonely around here. I really do think I need a best friend, something tangible that can provide physical comfort and help me when I'm anxious. I told my parents this, and they didn't say no... because I wouldn't bring that up with them if I didn't think it would help me. They won't give me Charlie, which sucks because I miss him more than anything in the world, but I feel like I'd love my own cat just the same. Hopefully my performance has been good enough for them to seriously consider it. I have a hunch that they might get me a cat for Christmas.

So yeah, that's what's new in my world. I have been very happy recently. Stable, but in my own chaotic way. Life doesn't feel redundant like it did earlier in the semester and I appreciate that. I feel good and have things to look forward to, things I will write about soon. I'm particularly excited about the feature story I have to write for one of my journalism courses. Storytelling, whether it be this blog or an assignment, has made me a driven person. There are stories everywhere now.

I've come to understand recently that sometimes there's more to gain from doing and not thinking than from thinking and not doing. Yesterday I had this impulsion to go to the beach, so I drove to Ocean City in the early evening. It was warm last night and I drove with my windows open for one of the last times, with one arm on the wheel and the other out the window as they should be. It's late October so the city was practically empty. Across the bridge, the first pastel shades of evening began to layer themselves across the whole isle. Parking was easy for once; I quickly found a spot only two blocks away from the beach and the excitement in me was so strong at that point that I locked my car and immediately sprinted to the boardwalk.

I've never seen a beautiful place so empty. It was just me and this huge, open boardwalk, stretching for miles parallel to the beach. In summer at this time of day, it would normally be ridiculously crowded. In fact, you'd probably never see it this empty at all in the warm months. But on this temperate day in late October it was glazed in a type of serenity I have only ever seen in my dreams. I walked quickly out of anticipation, eventually working myself into a jog, and then a sprint, past all the closed tourist shops and attractions. Once I ran out of breath, I walked and observed the air around me which, for some reason, in this perfectly whimsical way, was filled with dozens of Monarch butterflies. Really? Seriously? I mean, come on. It was so perfect it felt like a joke. The ocean, butterflies, an invigorating sense of aloneness, and myself. All engulfed in the pink light of a sunset. The ideal conditions for a specimen like me. Surreal.

Eventually, the ocean beckoned me in its usual way. I don't know why I tried to tell myself I wouldn't go on the beach. It's always "you'll get sand in your shoes" and "someone will steal your keys at the beach entrance". Who cares. The only thing I regret is wearing my high tops because I couldn't get them off fast enough. When I finally did, I chucked them impassively by the fence and bolted straight to the water. The ocean was cold I guess, whatever. I didn't care at that point. I ran back and forth in the water, splashing around and laughing for awhile until I was almost completely soaked and covered in sand. Eventually I ran out of breath again and made my way back to the boardwalk to enjoy the rest of the sunset. The huge, full moon rose in East, and I watched from a bench. I only left when it became too cold to stay, and even by the time I was home I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

I always struggle to write about stuff like this. It's beyond normal happiness to me. That single hour yesterday felt like the happiest of my life, but I say that every time. It's more than that- it's too profound, too enormous to put into words. How often do I get to feel that good? I feel like all of my most memorable experiences somehow come back to being in water. Open expanses, crashing waves, quiet places and seabirds I know all the names of. It's a part of me. It has to be, the way it makes me feel. And to think I gain so much joy from a place I've known my entire life, I have so much excitement about going elsewhere. I mean, this is New Jersey of all places. If New Jersey can be this gorgeous, imagine what other places are like.

I went to the lake again yesterday. I've been going multiple times a week now but yesterday was the first day that it was too cold to swim. It's a shame I guess, that I won't be able to sit at the bottom of the lake and stare at fish for another seven months. But I've gotten good at waiting that long, and now that autumn is here I have the honor of experiencing the lake in a new season. I've been observing that gradual change for the past two weeks now... the damselflies are less and less every time I return, and the aquatic plants are not as sprawling as they were in August. The water was so still and clear yesterday that when I dipped my feet in, I could see the ripples rock the milfoil 10 feet out. I know that just beyond that, about 20 feet down, there is a slight rift on the lakebed where there are no plants at all. I'm sure the turtles, frogs, and minnows will make use of the area in my absence.

I think I'll still visit frequently even when it becomes frigid. I don't do well with cold or with the winter months in general, but I think it's more important than ever for me to keep active. And besides, even if I can't float on my back to look at the clouds, I can still lay on the shore. Yesterday I did exactly that for two hours, and it was still a good time. I don't think anything can rip away the wonderment and mystery of a place like Dream Lake. When I'm there, I feel like I'm connected to everything.

It's finally fall.

Honestly, I'm excited this year. Life is so wildly different than it was a month ago and there is a lot of change happening in my life at the moment. I think I'm doing alright, though. I'm not having the college experience I anticipated, but I'm not disappointed in the slightest, either. Instead of going to parties and socializing I've mostly resorted to considerable crime and skinny dipping. Yesterday I stole two small bottles of wine and I've shoplifted from Target twice. I probably shouldn't talk about the other stuff but you get the idea, I'm a menace. I feel no regrets about my behavior and it doesn't scare me anymore. I am approaching the abhorrent margins of society.

I feel a bit out of place at school because I am out of place. I'm pretty shy and don't look approachable, so I was worried I would have trouble talking to others. I have made one good friend, though. His name is Vic and he asked me to get coffee with him after class last week. I was taken so off guard when he asked me, and I was more than happy to sit down and get to know him. He's a cool guy, and we share a love for learning which makes our conversations interesting. He has a lot of happiness and compassion in his heart and that's really refreshing for me at the moment. I think it's important to have normal people in my life considering that I mostly concern myself with sociopaths, drug addicts, and mentally ill criminals who are one bad trip away from inpatient.

And I say that because I've been hit with a bit of misfortune. Yesterday I woke to a wall of text from that close friend whose name I can't say, and she just admitted to the psych ward. Apparently she did a bunch of DMT, LSD, and weed the other night, felt like she was dying, and went what I can only call insane. Just absolutely gutting stuff. Stuff I saw coming, stuff I couldn't do anything about. Stuff that no one knows what to do about. I was devastated by what she sent me specifically because she still expressed her gratitude for me in her darkest moment.

It's a hard pill to swallow, but this is reality of many of my friendships. The people I care about the most are fucked up people with fucked up issues. Normal people don't deal with a fraction of what some of these people are going through, and I can say that with confidence. They are all outcasts and freaks and I have their back no matter what. They are at the margins.

It's been awhile. I haven't felt the urge to write. A lot has been happening though and I think it might be good to talk about it.

For starters, I'm completely moved in to my apartment. The week or so leading up to my departure (which was Thursday night) I was in a highly emotional state with little to no control over how I was feeling. If I'm being honest, it hit me way harder than I thought it would. Which is okay, and I'll get through it, but it still sucks. Seriously, I don't think I've cried this much since sophomore year. The funny part is that every day last week was amazing and fun, but I'd get home and just curl over in tears because I'm so emotional about everything for no reason.

However, I was inclined to make the most of the time I had left. I made a point of visiting a bunch of people/places and I was able to get some final good times squeezed in before I went off to Stockton. Just recently I hung out with Lily, who made brownies with me and then showed me how she uses the darkweb, and the day before departure I hung out with my coworker Jon and he took me to a smoke shop. I also went out with an old friend of mine, Vincent, who wanted to catch up with me and we bid farewell to the Pequannock overpass by defacing it with pastel pink graffiti, so that was cool. Adam and I hung out the other week, I already said goodbye awhile ago to Corinne, Sami, and Ishwar, and Jatin and Corey will always be around because they are internet friends. The one thing I regret is that I didn't get to see Amanda before she left, but she's over in Hoboken so she's not really "gone" per se (fuck you Corey). I'm satisfied with how I've left things, and as much as I like to scare myself with change, I know these people will all be there when I need them. It's not like they are dead or something.

What really fucked with me emotionally though was leaving my job. Not because of the work itself, but because of the people there. I've heard it a million times from my coworkers that know the company; they say our specific Trader Joe's has an infamously amazing community and team dynamic that you can't really find at other stores. And I believe it, because I've met some of the kindest, funniest, most easy to get along with people I know through that job. I was collectively appreciated and encouraged to be myself. As someone who didn't often feel a sense of belonging around my peers growing up, the diversity and support of the people I worked with was refreshing and very valuable to me. On my last day, everyone was especially excited for me and it was hard not to cry. When my shift ended I couldn't even make it to my car without bursting into tears. Those people really changed my life. I knew two months into that job that leaving would be hard.

But that's how life works. I'm aware of how sensitive I am to these things and I think it's okay. Even if it sucks sometimes.

As for moving in, I am living in an unfamiliar wonderland. I can now say I have my dream bedroom, which is indescribably pink, fluffy, and covered in unicorns. I think some of my friends dread it. And at the moment, I kind of do, too, because I haven't yet adjusted to it. Sometimes OCD can complicate living in spaces that I'm not used to, so it will take some time to rid of old rituals and create new ones. I've been sort of haphazardly mimicking behaviors I had at home in this new place and it feels weird. I know I'll get comfortable at some point, though. I think it's good to have roommates, too. One of them, Emma, moved in yesterday and I immediately felt more at home once we got to talking. We have a lot in common and get along very well which is such a relief. Emma is an interesting character. I nervously approached her with my questions about having weed in the apartment and she laughed. We sat down and she told me about her drug experiences, much to my pleasure. I mean, this girl literally had the FBI show up to her house. Needless to say, I think she's chill about it. Actually, I think she might be stoned all the time. I can't really tell. Either way, it's fine by me.

I'm feeling better now that I've written this. 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.

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.

I've been doing a great deal of reflection lately while keeping in mind my affirmations. I think I've been doing a pretty good job of branching out and exposing myself to new situations that are important to my growth. In fact, since prom, the ball has really started rolling. In the last two months I've been all over the place and going along with all the ups and downs. I'm living well at the moment.

As for an explanation of the title, I think it's important to clarify that there are two stories to be told here, both occurring on the same day (June 17th). The first being my aunt's funeral, and secondly the graduation party of my dear friend Corinne.

My aunt passed away from the coronavirus back in December on Christmas Eve. I was not that close with her, in all honesty, but I've never experienced a human loss before in my life so I guess the idea of it was intimidating. The funeral was held at a cemetery in Montclair on the humid morning of the 17th, and my entire family attended as well as the side of my aunt's family that I have never met before. I think it's important to note that my perspective on death is not that profound or oversaturated. I can't sympathize for dead people and all emotions that I feel in the wake of death are only pertinent to myself. Of course I am deeply affected by the death of loved ones, but I don't feel bad for a person's death in any sort of empathic way. Thus, at the memorial service for my aunt, I struggled to create any strong emotions out of the fact that she was dead. The pain only started to set in when I found myself in a room with 40 or so devastated people crying their eyes out. I was trapped in the presence of very real, perceivable hardship and it was cast over me like a wave as soon as my relatives spoke. I only found myself in tears after my cousin of 11 years, Mackenzie, went up to the mic to express her grief in the most heart-wrenching way possible. She was brave to be up there, but she looked deeply hurt. I've never seen a young child look the way she did as she cried. I remained like a statue as tears ran down my face for the remainder of the service, and I realized that this is why people cry at funerals. It's not just because of death- it's because seeing the people you love in states of great pain is as hollowing as death itself. I walked away from this experience puzzled by my own affliction, but have since come to terms with it. My sadness is for all who loved and were loved by my aunt. A great humility fell over me that morning...

...A humility that was quickly shed as I arrived to Corinne's house in a skimpy ass outfit for the most banger party of my life. And I use that word, "banger", sparingly. Corinne and I went to school together but the cliquey atmosphere there never really allowed me to become close friends with her. Now that high school is over, everyone has kind of gotten over themselves, including myself. After prom, I reconnected with a few people from my school who were outside of my usual social circles (including Corinne) and began actively hanging out with them. It's interesting, because many of these people are so out there compared to myself. They had completely different experiences than me. Corinne in particular is a party person, and I was really excited to attend a party in the company of a person I trust. Her party was held in her backyard, and for the first few hours of the night, her family was there. At around 8:00, her family left and we spent the rest of the night drinking, smoking, and chilling in a huge tent in her yard.

What they don't tell you in movies about average cool teenagers is that they are surprisingly supportive and mindful people. They are not sociopathic, manipulative assholes who bully disabled children, despite what the media may tell you. Every fear I had about "fitting in" with Corinne's crowd quickly diminished as she and her friends told me how excited they were for my first party. Strangely enough, Corinne's best friend, Sami, was there and we absolutely hit it off. Prior to that night, I only had one interaction with Sami in my sophomore year which ended poorly and we both thought we hated each other or something. Turns out we actually get along really well and have quite a few things in common. We talked all about high school and our lives and everything, and it was refreshing. We then got high in the upstairs bathroom, which was hilarious within itself. I also got to talk to members of Corinne's family and see a different side of her life. I found that first part of the night really enjoyable. After the sun went down, the rest of Corinne's friends arrived and suddenly we had free reign over the backyard. It was a small group, only about 8 people, but a party nonetheless. I was familiar with everyone there and didn't really have to cling to anyone like I anticipated. Sami also seemed to be checking in on me which I really appreciated. The dynamic was unlike anything I was used to, but something I could get comfortable with quickly. The events of the night took their course, with Sami, Alec, and I departing to McDonald's in the pouring rain, and then to a sketchy area behind Quick Chek where I hit my first bong. All I can really say about "losing my bong virginity" as Sami put it is that it was the highest I've ever been in my life. Once we were back at Corinne's, we drank some Bud Lights and I forget the rest. I woke up in her basement the next day feeling very satisfied and hungover. It was fucking amazing.

Corinne's party was important to me because it was a clear opportunity for me to break down some of the social standards I had for myself throughout high school. I think I took a lot of tropes about high school at face value when I was younger. I know I was kind of a weird person at school, but sometimes I wonder if my marginalization in academic settings was purely imaginary. It doesn't really matter now, since I have one of these classic alcohol-infused parties under my belt now. Things are going to change soon, and I need to be ready. In two months I'll be in college and distant from people like Corinne and Sami, but that doesn't make their company any less valuable to me. In fact, they will probably never see the full extent to which they've helped me. These things are so confusing and deeply rooted that it makes saying thank you even more difficult than saying goodbye.

So yeah, June 17th was interesting. A lot to process, that's for sure. I never know how to end these long anecdotes about things happening in my life. I'm looking forward to the future and all the changes it will bring. I'm looking forward to writing about it, too. Like I said, I'm living well that the moment.

Simple as that.