It's been a while...

Life is taking it in turns to be underwhelming and then overwhelming.

I was so excited at the prospect of moving back to school, and at the prospect of having everything taken care of, and then I arrived and...felt dull. The loan fiasco didn't help this, of course, but I was rather unchanged before we knew about the loan, so it didn't cause it, either.

Mom turns to me and tells me I need to pray about the problems we're having right now. She knows I don't. She knows I won't. Even if I did, it wouldn't bring me relief. She wanted me to go to church too. I thankfully have an audition that morning and need to be here, but I wouldn't have gone anyway. I wrote this earlier today, though I won't post it on dA. I don't like it.

I am not at church. I am not going
to church. I am not going to pray.
I am going to write. I will write
about strings and chains and I
will say the same as anyone else
who is sitting in church or
kneeling at sheets. I don't worship
false gods. I don't believe in
the pen over anything else. I
express myself through my words
and through my actions. I don't
need a building to speak. I can't
act with my hands folded together
at the crux of my wrist as though
cuffed. I am not going to pray. I
am not going to church. I am going
to write.

It's not that I don't believe that there is a god. I think there very well could be one. It's just that I don't feel that, if there is a god, he would put us somewhere and then expect us to spend all of our time praying to him. If he put us here, he wants us to do stuff here. So we need to stop wasting time praying and start spending time doing.

School starts Monday. I am...less thrilled than I was before. I usually love the prospect of classes, for as sad as it sounds. But I am not excited. I'm worried about the loan, and about being kicked out, and I'm terrified at the thought of having to live with my parents during the school year.

I'm terrified I won't live up to the expectations people set on me. I'm terrified I'll grow old and end up like my father. I'm terrified that I'm already an adult and I don't know how to file taxes.

My mom told me that I always worried about adult things when I was a kid, and that she had to tell me to worry about kid things.

I never was very good at listening to her. It's not her fault.

I don't have much to say on the writing front. When I write these days, my quality filter doesn't seem to work very well. I hope it's that my writing's getting better rather than I just have no idea, but somehow the latter feels more correct.

This feels cathartic.

I've been stressing about random things for the past month, and now it just feels...like the tide going back out to sea.

I'm listening to Imogen Heap's "Canvas" right now. It is entrancing and helping my mood profoundly.

I think I've run out of things to say now. But I have liked saying them, more than usual.