Sunday, April 21, 2002
My computer, after years of abuse and overuse, has decided to stage a coup. It's picket sign reads "Error 680: There is no dialtone. Please make sure your modem is properly connected and try again." At least it's polite, right? So I'm confined to the computer lab in the journalism building if I want any contact with the communication world. What does that say about me? Probably not anything nice, or pleasant, or free of the words "computer nerd" or "social outcast."
The countdown of days has started and my homeward journey begins in less than two weeks. It seems outrageous to think that school ends on Wednesday. I feel as if I suffer from a Rip VanWinkle form of narcolepsy, where the world goes on and passes me by and all the while my eyes remain closed. It's scary to think my life might continue this way and, in what seems like minutes, I might find my self face to face with the reflection of an old woman with features that look an awful lot like mine. I used to never understand people afraid of getting old, of losing the pigment in their hair and the elasticity of their skin. I have, more recently, begun to comprehend this fear, only mine seems magnified by the fear of going through that process alone.
I have heard so many people, women especially, say that singlehood is a blessing and a gift that lasts only a short while. I must admit to having an abundance of blessing than, seeing as how I have spent more time out of relationships than in. Counting from the seventh grade, I have had six relationships and spent a combined total of five months, three weeks and three days in them. I feel pathetic, I feel unlovable, and I feel more befitting of bell towers and dungeon laboratories.
I'm an old pro in the art of being alone, I'm ready to test my strength in loving and caring for someone else. It takes a great deal more character and fortitude to think of someone else than it does to think only of yourself. Maybe I'm not ready to be in a relationship with someone, but I would really like the chance to try.
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The countdown of days has started and my homeward journey begins in less than two weeks. It seems outrageous to think that school ends on Wednesday. I feel as if I suffer from a Rip VanWinkle form of narcolepsy, where the world goes on and passes me by and all the while my eyes remain closed. It's scary to think my life might continue this way and, in what seems like minutes, I might find my self face to face with the reflection of an old woman with features that look an awful lot like mine. I used to never understand people afraid of getting old, of losing the pigment in their hair and the elasticity of their skin. I have, more recently, begun to comprehend this fear, only mine seems magnified by the fear of going through that process alone.
I have heard so many people, women especially, say that singlehood is a blessing and a gift that lasts only a short while. I must admit to having an abundance of blessing than, seeing as how I have spent more time out of relationships than in. Counting from the seventh grade, I have had six relationships and spent a combined total of five months, three weeks and three days in them. I feel pathetic, I feel unlovable, and I feel more befitting of bell towers and dungeon laboratories.
I'm an old pro in the art of being alone, I'm ready to test my strength in loving and caring for someone else. It takes a great deal more character and fortitude to think of someone else than it does to think only of yourself. Maybe I'm not ready to be in a relationship with someone, but I would really like the chance to try.
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