Floating in the Pages

As usual, the past few days have been a maze of thoughts, questions, and the journey to finding a solution for all of life's inconsistencies.

This will be the first full month in which I balance the life of college student and flight attendant. I finally found a professor that was willing to allow me into her class, enabling me to attend university classes at half time, and come two classes closer to graduation. After meeting with my adviser, I changed my degree plan (for the fifth and final time . . . hopefully). In the spring, it's three more classes, and I can finally say, "I'm fucking finished!"

Although, I'm having a harder time than usual finding out what I want to write about. The more I try to focus on one or two smaller pieces of the big picture, I find myself immersed in an array of different academic spectra. Linguistics, Anthropology, Literary Analysis, Japanese, Gender Studies, Ethnomusicology, etc.; the list never seems to end. Is this normal, or is it me?

I probably have close to two hundred pages of socio-gender-anthro-linguistics articles to read before next week, and I slept away another layover. It's bad for my studies, but it was good for my soul.

Today is the birthday of the person I love the most, and I have no idea when I'll see him, much less talk with him. This blog really shouldn't serve as anything but a collection of thoughts that are relevant to my study abroad, interest in Japan, and perhaps even self-discovery on a professional or academic level. Yet, I find myself thinking about this person, how much they mean to me, and I wonder if I will ever mean the same to them. I can't help but feel as though I'll always be standing on the sidelines, watching an artist chase his dream. He may love me more than I can imagine, but stomach is nagging away at my thoughts: If he loves me, it would be nice to have him choose me over art, or less selfishly, find a way to balance his priorities. All or nothing is a wonderful quality, but in love, especially in regards to how I feel that I want to be treated, I want to be put first every now and then. Nothing crazy, nothing too high maintenance. I just want to be loved openly. I don't want to be a secret. But enough with my wants. It's his birthday, not mine.

Until the day we meet or speak again: Happy birthday, Clyde. I hope that you take hold of your dreams this time around, and you paint away until you're happy.

In any case, this was not an insightful entry whatsoever. (I doubt they hardly come off as anything other than rants or bouts of complaint and self-pity.) I am happy to be in a place where things are slowly starting to come together. I can only hope that they don't get pulled out from under me any time soon. (Knock on wood)

I should probably find a way to lull myself to sleep. I have a check flight tomorrow, and my manager will be on board. I need to be well-rested.

Goodnight, everyone.