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.