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Archive for September, 2009

Note: This is a long one and more of a look inward than that of a page ripped from a diary.  No need to read unless you want a lot of background on me and some philosophy.

Lately, I’ve wondered about how much consistency there is in my life.  I’m naturally a creature of habit, stuck in her old ways: I sit in the same seat each day for my classes even though I’m allowed to sit where ever I wish (and I always sit in the middle front for each class, too), I awake the same way each morning, listen to the same music repeatedly, and I refuse to change around the furniture in my room (I’ve had the same set up in my  bedroom since I was six).  Yet, I’m also changing quite a bit and in ways that I didn’t recently realise.

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After typing my 1200 plus word blog, I cleared my mind by eating lunch.  I wasn’t all that hungry, and maybe it’s because my mind was too busy, but I set out to eat something before the cafeteria shut down until dinner.

While there, I ate beef strogonof and an array of vegetables, and I have to admit that the beef was terrible.  Or, at least, it was in my opinion.  I really haven’t been eating much meat lately, and my friend is encouraging me to become vegetarian since I’m only eating about one or two pieces of meat per week anyway.  I’ve been putting thought into what he said lately, and I know that it really wouldn’t be that difficult to become a vegetarian.  Besides, I’ve stopped drinking milk for soy milk, I already refuse to wear leather, and I’m really not that big of a fan of meat anyway.

Plus, meat is really difficult for your body to digest, which can lead to intestinal problems (thank you Skinny Bitch for that information).  Not to mention there are a lot of antibiotics pumped into meats that mess with your immune system.  And while there’s the worry about pesticides in vegetables, you can buy organic at the local farmers market.  If you’re worried the label “organic” is false, buy from the Amish woman rather than the man wearing a ripped t-shirt.  It doesn’t work every time, but it makes me feel a little bit better about what I’m eating and who I’m funding.

Aside from that, the Amish woman was nicer and gave me five tomatoes for a dollar–not half bad.

Anyway, as I sat at an empty table, eating the beef as quickly as possible in order to get to the good parts of the meal (i.e. the noodles, peas, green beans, and onions), a girl asked if she could sit next to me.  Of course I said yes; I enjoy meeting new people since you never know what they’ll be like.  She was easy to talk to, and we ended up finding that we both loved Muse.  After a long conversation, I felt that I had made a new friend, which was fairly exciting.

And, the reason I bring this up is because I was surprised by it.  I’ve lived here for a month, and I’m still meeting new people.  With that, I’m still gaining new friends.  It just goes to prove that people you can appreciate can be around you all the time, but sometimes, you have to open your eyes to see them.  And, meeting someone new may seem trivial, but who’s to say that trivial encounter won’t yield a friendship or at least aquaintance?  Life is funny, and you never know how things are going to work out.  Just remember that, as much as life is a raft ride down a river, sometimes you have to take the initiative to get yourself into a new river if it looks better.  It may be as trivial as pushing your hand across a rock, but who’s to say that it won’t lead you to a greater ride?

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I fully realise that no one looks at what I’m writing, and that doesn’t necessarily bother me. I write for me, for my own personal enjoyment and well-being, and because there are so many things to write. It’s why I’ve kept a diary since freshman year of high school and have filled thousands of pages. No one will ever read those stories and traumas and ideas, but they’re noted down because they represent a portion of who I was and who I am. That’s why blogging for an empty audience is appealing. I can type, which is much faster than my detailed cursive, and I can still write for me.

When writing for an audience, you don’t tell the truth, either. It’s like how, when psychologists are doing studies on people, they try to make everything blind, including themselves. That way, they don’t look for things that aren’t there or try unconsciously influence their study subjects. Well, writing for an audience is similar. You change styles and try to make things different in order to be better liked or received. And that just doesn’t seem very fair to myself, and I like being fair to myself since I feel that I have a very unique and amazing relationship with me.

I don’t necessarily mind if people read this. Truly. I just prefer to write as though there is no audience, even if the style and talking sounds as if I’m speaking to an audience of the like-minded. And let me clear that. I write as if speaking to a great audience (and it’s the same way as in my diaries), but I like to think that the subject matter is uninfluenced by an actual, watching audience. It makes little sense outside of my head; terribly sorry. Just another example of the connection I have with myself that doesn’t quite translate into the material world.

Sometimes I wonder if everyone has that kind of relationship with themselves. If everyone learns about themselves and works with it. Or, if other people are just shells, walking along, following, moving through the steps. Yes, I don’t doubt that we all think and have conversations with ourselves in our heads, but I sometimes wonder just how strong of a relationship we have between soul and mind. Or between mind and mind. I don’t always know which is correct when talking about this subject. But maybe this is all the psychologist in me.

I’m outside right now, sitting in the middle of the quad, under the cover of an oak tree and a maple. Truman’s campus is beautiful, as is the weather of Kirksville during the fall, and other students are taking the same opportunity as I am to enjoy the last moments of sun before the infamous midwest winter comes to play. They’re sitting on blankets, tapping their pens on notebooks, reading, talking, typing. I start to wonder what makes them… them.

There’s a girl lying next to her friend about one hundred feet from me. She’s a hard-core lesbian and makes it known to everyone on campus. I don’t mind this; I admire her strength. One doesn’t have to share a similar view-point to find something amiable about another. The girl beside her is chatting. She is very liberal. Again, I don’t mind this. I like people to believe in something, even if it’s not exactly the same as me. A young man walks passed holding his art supplies and a cigarette. My eyes squint and nose wrinkles at the smell, but it’s not my right to think ill of him. There’s a girl sitting beneath a tree and staring off into space. I start to wonder if she’s thinking the same things that I am. Or who she is. I wonder why she stares as opposed to the four people on cell phones who move their heads but don’t see anything. And, all the while, I can’t help but analyse people. Why does she sit with that posture? Why did he look awkward while sitting on that bench? Why does he turn his head to look behind him every couple of seconds? What are we and why are we? Are we all vast minds, trapped in shells. Or are only some people trapped? Or are only some people empty?

These are too many questions for a Thursday afternoon. But, if they aren’t asked now, when?

And, for the record, when I analyse people, it’s not judging. Judging people for what they like or how they do things is backwards. Judge character. Judge kindness. Judge who they really are, not just reputation. You’ll find it much easier to get along with people who are different from you.

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Sometimes, I wish that Matthew Bellamy’s voice spoke the truth; that together we’re invincible. But, lately, I find myself more alone than ever. And it’s an odd feeling: loneliness. For starters, I’m of the type to rarely feel lonesomeness. But, the past few months have given me doubt as to whether or not I do feel loneliness, with the winner being that I most likely do feel it.

University has been a major change for me, though I’m adapting quite well when it comes to the basic emotions of the process. My room-mate and I get along very well, my house-mates are all great people that I enjoy spending time with, the food is spectacular, and my classes haven’t been all that bad. Adapting to the intense amounts of reading seemed to be the most difficult, but now I’m finding that there are other things going on in my mind at present. I’m not sure if I’m adapting emotionally enough, though. I don’t miss home. But I miss something. I miss my friends that I left in St. Charles. I miss the Missouri River and sitting beside it. I miss the feeling of the city lying on my doorstep. Kirksville is wonderful, but there’s something not right about it, and I think that it is the same with any university. It’s the fact that our lives are now taking a backseat, and everything focuses on Campus. These few blocks now make up my entire world, and I am not the type to be boxed in. I like existing somewhere large–it’s why I want to move to the city. Suburbs, towns, rural communities, and campuses just aren’t conducive to a happy Missi.

And I’m not sure if my missing something links back to loneliness. I see friends daily, and things work out. I’ve met some cool people, too, just not people to replace friends that I already have. There are a couple friends that I’m missing a lot that I just couldn’t replace. One of them being someone that I just realised I missed today. We were never super close, but friends nonetheless. In fact, I might have been closer to her brother. Still, I realised today that I missed her, and I told her so.

Anyway, though, none of this really makes sense. These are just thoughts that I wanted to relay, and organisation took a backseat. Which, I have to admit, is unusual for me. I’m more of a thinker than a feeler, though that line is getting narrower as time goes by. And maybe I only notice it more than the average person because I’m so in tune with myself. I know myself rather well, and it makes it easy to see the changes.

It probably doesn’t help that I study MBTI, either. But that’s another story.

I think I bring up these thoughts right now because of two things: I am terrified of my psychology exam tomorrow (one that is supposedly extremely difficult and that I have not yet studied for), and my dog is dying. The latter weighing more heavily on my mind. Teddy is the same as a sibling to me, and this is going to be difficult. Within this year, I lost my home, will lose my dog, and will lose my grandmother (who’s dying of cancer). Altogether, things just don’t seem to be going right.

But I’ll keep listening to Muse and sitting outside and trying to breathe. And, within the next few weeks here, maybe I’ll get the new Muse CD. Maybe that will help. Most likely not, though.

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