What Am I Saying Goodbye To?

John is moving to North Carolina. It's actually happening. I feel silly for not believing he would follow through and feel guilty for doubting him. But this time, he's moved out of his apartment and already has a place in N. Carolina. I don't think I'm ready for him to leave. He's one of my best friends, and I won't get to say goodbye. It's like a movie moment--but one I've never envied: coming home to someone who's no longer there.

And like our entire relationship, I don't know what I'm losing. Am I losing a best friend or someone I dated? Either way, it doesn't make the situation hurt any less. He says he'll visit, and maybe he will once or twice, but after that, I'm sure our friendship will begin to dwindle and dissolve.

It's selfish of me to expect him to stay in Kansas forever. I can't ask him to wait for me, especially since I know it's my own hangups that have kept us apart. He's an amazing guy; he'll make some girl really happy. I just don't know anymore if that girl is me.

Screw You, Early Winter

What in the world happened? Somehow, I blinked and missed Fall.

Autumn is my favorite season. It means first sweaters, chai lattes, changing leaves, hand holding, warm coffeeshops, and scenic walks. It's a season of romance and comfort--the perfect combination.

But this year, I missed Fall. Last week, few trees had even shown a hint of color. Yesterday, however, they were all yellow and red. Great, I thought, I'll spend this weekend outside. But today is absolutely freezing! All day I did the usual "Boston winter" move: clutch coat closer, look at the ground, forget about how the wind is making your hair look absolutely ridiculous. This look is neither romantical nor comfortable--it's as if a big "Fuck Off" is stamped on my forehead.

...I'm not bitter at all that I missed the Fall.

Bow Your Heads and...Think?

I'm getting a little fed up with the fact that religion has no place in philosophy. Most philosophical arguments come down to: "You believe this because you are not religious, or this philosophy has no place in your life because you are religious."

With the exception of few philosophers, Aquinas and Augustine included, this is almost always the case. Every philosopher inevitably comes to the concept of freedom and free will (whether they call it that or not). Likewise, most philosophers cannot believe that free will does not exist. I won't deny that I fall under that category, as well; I have a refusal to accept that my own fate and actions aren't a product of my own determination. That does not mean, however, that I have no faith in a higher being.

Every human has faith in someone or something. Religion, or even faith, while it is not a definitive source of understanding or power, it is certainly demonstrative and a source of authority for making decisions. Since one particular, uniform authority cannot be recognized as being supreme, however, the reasoning "I have faith" will never be viable.

As I continue studying philosophy, I'm beginning to realize that even having faith in oneself may not be enough of a reason to believe something. Rationalism and relativism dominate the philosophical realm, but both have problems with an aspect of faith. Rationalists must rely on themselves; relativists can, at the very least, understand a reliance on religion.

I'm not even saying that I'm particularly religious, but I just find it hypocritical that philosophers are so willing to look to every other possible rationale for an event rather than looking into man's reliance on faith and the need for a particular security. So, with no apparently concrete answer to the inevitable question of "does faith have a place in philosophy," why can't my answer of "yes" ever be right?

Next Time I'll Take the Stairs

I think elevators are some of the most uncomfortable places ever. There seems to be some unwritten rule that if there are two people in an elevator, they must somehow strike up a witty and illuminating conversation between the first and umpteenth floors.

Today, I was in one with a professor. Four floors, that's all. Not enough to say more than "Hello, Professor. Chilly today, isn't it?"Instead of leaving it at that, he finds the ten second ride to the fourth floor (which feels like an eternity) the perfect time to find out where I'm from and what the weather's like in comparison to Boston's. The most uncomfortable moment, however, was the exit. Especially, and this is always the case, when both people are headed to the same place but don't realize that they are.

I would love to say that this isn't how The Exit went down, but it was:
I motioned for him to get off the elevator first.
He motioned for me to go.
I went. He went.
We both repeated steps one and two.
He says, "Wow. That was stupid."
He exits and walks away.
I exit, dumbfounded as to how awkwardly that interaction went down.

It was nice to finally talk to you, Professor. Glad we had that chat.

Temptation is a lover named Bitch

I don't think I'm a very faithful person. I don't mean in religion, I mean in regard to relationships. That's awful, isn't it? But I just know the person that I am. I'm too independent to be in a relationship, but I'm always looking for love and affection. I avoid long distance relationships for this reason: I'm terrified that I will cheat. And if there's something I can't forgive (even of myself), it's cheating on a significant other.

And since I want love so badly, since I need affection, I don't think I could say no. Maybe I would "love" someone closer to me for the sake of nearness...

I know I have more to write, but it's really quite an unflattering aspect of myself that I'd rather not focus on.

Seize the day, eh?

Last week, someone told me I have an "artist's soul," and I couldn't help but snicker. I love to perform, but I'd never considered it as a potential career in any regard. So where did he come from, saying I had an "artist's soul"?

Of course, this got me thinking more. I might be more connected to an artist than I thought. I love creating, I love expressing myself. Over the summer, I started playing the piano again. No lessons, no overbearing concern about my posture or length of my fingernails. I just played what I felt like playing and when I felt like playing, which actually became quite often. And now at school, when I feel overwhelmed or lonely or particularly emotional, there's no piano to pour my feelings into. Likewise, there are no plays to disappear into. Because acting, above all other forms of expression, is where I find my release. Comedy or drama, I need a challenge. And right now, with the show that I'm in, I feel unchallenged. It's no one's fault, of course, I think that I just hit a wall. I've taken my character as far as I can go, and it's not as far as I'd like.

I'll be the first to admit that I think I'm an extremely logical person. I have very ambitious career goals that keep me on a timeline for the next few years of my life. But now I'm starting to wonder, did I go to fast? Did I miss out on some of the things I should have by always having my nose in a book? I can't help but fear that I have. I'm young now and that won't always be the case...and an artist wouldn't let these opportunities pass her by.

This Book Really Turns Me On...

I pretty much live at Mugar these days. I know the best tables to scope out. I know which particularly cold windows to avoid. I know how to hunch over whatever sugary food or caffeinated drink I have snuck in that night in order to hide it from the Red Blazers. I do not, however, know how to deal with the craziness of midterms or finals.

I'm there all the time, so I judge where I am in the semester by the amount of people in the library. No free tables whatsoever? Well, we must be nearing a some form of testing period. I direct my glares toward the herds of students that come in for the two weeks surrounding midterms and finals. They're loud, giggly, and frankly, annoying.

After last night I was assured that it is, in fact, midterm season. I was being productive (meaning minimal time allocated for facebook stalking) and decided to take a stretch break. Because, with all these people in the library, I was bound to run into someone I knew who was looking for a distraction. On my walk, however, I found the dumbest Red Blazer I have ever seen.

As a side note, I really dislike the Red Blazers. You're students, get over it. If someone in the library has food or drink, why do you have to be assholes and tell them to throw it away? Is their coffee hurting you? Is the smell of caffeinated beans wafting through the library a distraction to ALL students? No? I didn't think so. Get over yourself, or the next time I leave and show you my bag I WILL steal a potted plant. Let's see your Blazer-ed ass run down Comm. Ave. after me.

Back to the moment at hand. So I'm walking, and I just see a Red Blazer pointing at the ground frozen in dismay. Next to him is a B&G worker who could clearly care less about whatever it is that's happening. So what was happening? There was a condom wrapper in the trashcan, which had been knocked over (perhaps in a fit of sexual excitement?). Red Blazer just couldn't handle the fact that in this huge library someone was NOT focusing on their education and using their free time in a more enjoyable way. I get it; it is kind of gross. But it wasn't a used condom, just a wrapper. Red Blazer did not need to distract everyone in the room from their studying or drag a B&G guy, who couldn't care less, away from another crisis that he probably also couldn't have cared less about. I walked away smiling, though.

Overall, weird night in the library. The kooks come out in times of stress.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

I'm in a constant vulnerable place these days. I feel like I'm at some strange breaking point, but I can see myself and my crazy reactions. All I want to do is force myself to calm down and buck up. I'm an adult, after all...right? And that's what adults do. They deal. I'm trying, I really am. But the minute I don't smile or the second I'm not bubbling with conversation, people think I'm mad. I'm not; I'm just thinking.

But for the first time in my life, I have this creeping feeling that I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time. The pressures from home keep building and I'm almost positive that there will be a drastic change before I graduate. Something will break. It's a change, I fear, that I'm going to be upset that I was halfway across the country for. There's already been the odd shifting of family dynamics. Suddenly, my mom sees me as a friend and a confidant--which, I love, don't get me wrong. I do wish, however, that she left the financial woes out of the conversations. It would be nice if I saw her as more of a confidant, as well. There's a lot that needs to be said that I can't find the words to say.