about that time...

It's 6:00 am. (It should be noted that these timestamps LIE - usually I am grateful that they don't betray my unhealthy nocturnal nature, but what the hell; it's finals week and I am definitely not the only one on this whack schedule.)

I need a break from my paper, even though it's just finally starting to go well. I have the attention span of a goldfish on crack, apparently. And I needed to do something else.

Anyway, I realized that I just finally started to get excited about this paper I'm writing. (Actually, for my other English class - Black Bards.)

Then, of course, I was thinking about other people's papers. (And, because MZ was telling me snippets about hers before and as she was writing it, I also started thinking about how much I wanted to read it, once finals were over and I had the time. I think we talked about it, but sometimes I also make things up accidentally, so who knows?)

And then (like how this disjointed train of thought is still going?) I remembered something really weird that happened once, last semester.

I was walking to English House with a girl in my class that I knew pretty well, and we were talking about our final papers. I had written mine about The Handmaid's Tale (or, "My Favorite Book Ever to Exist") and she had written about Ender's Game, another book that I really love. I hadn't even considered that book as a possible paper topic, so I was really curious and interested when she started talking to me about it. She was describing her paper and I was nodding along and all was going well.

"Hey," I casually remarked, "I'd love to read that, actually. It sounds really interesting. Would you mind maybe sending it to me?"

She hesitated and looked wary. "Um, no, I'd rather not," she replied. "I mean, I'm just really proud of it and I don't want it... out there." [This is a paraphrase, since it happened a little while ago, but I think it is accurately along the lines of what she said.]

I was taken aback. My first instinct was to think that I had done something rude by asking to read it. Was I wrong in expressing interest? Do people not usually do that? (In the past, friends and acquaintances and I have shared papers, so I guess I just thought this was a common thing to do?)

"Oh--" I started, unsure. "Yeah, no, I mean, I totally get it." (I didn't.) "Of course." Luckily, we were only a few feet to the door of EH when this occurred, or the rest of the walk would have continued in very awkward silence, for I was out of things to say, and still pondering where I had gone wrong.

Actually, as I recount this, I'm still wondering where I went wrong. Of course it is her right to choose not to share her work, and I get that part, at least. But I'm still sort of puzzled. She seemed really interested in talking about the paper, so it wasn't as if she were shy about its quality. I guess that when I'm proud of something, I really want to share it. With everyone. And anyone. So if someone - even a total stranger - showed interest and asked to read something I had read, I would fork it over without hesitation and peer over his or her shoulder anxiously, awaiting feedback. (Or, let's just be honest - praise.) It's so bad that often I resort to sending my papers to my English major parents, who, luckily, probably because I'm an only child and they are bored without my presence sometimes (at least, that is just what I keep telling myself), are only too happy to read and comment.

(Actually, they're quite useful as editors, too - they don't hesitate to point out where I go wrong. Once, I when I was 11 or 12, I vividly remember leaving a paper on the kitchen table by accident. I came back, and the poor thing was mutilated by red marks. They looked sheepish when I railed at them, my righteous, middle school self enraged at the violation. "But honey, you left it out. We're sorry - we thought you wanted us to look. We were only trying to help. Don't worry about all of the red, there really isn't that much wrong with it...")

At any rate, maybe I was just overly presumptuous in thinking that everyone has the same narcissistic (ha, see - I told you all that I was a closet narcissist...) need for feedback and praise on their work that I do. Maybe normal people are content to just write things, talk about them a little and turn them in. They don't need others prying around or validating their work...

Huh. Sometimes I wish I could just be "a normal person" like that.

all I am

As predicted, I'm using this blog as actual procrastination, now that it's officially "no longer an assignment." Like how I couldn't even wait a day after the due date to write again? I am still in shock that I was so against this at the beginning of the semester, and now I am almost compelled to do it. What does that say about me? Are my standards and morals really so quick to change once I simply try something and like it? (What if I "tried" murder and found out I was ok with it or found it enjoyable...?)

Ok, enough of that particularly disturbing tangent.

I woke up at noon today. And only then because someone came to my door asking about lost keys from Brecon Prom. Unfortunately, I was too confused and disoriented to be of much help, and she was too embarrassed at having woken me up. (Although really, since I was the one asleep at noon, who really should have been embarrassed?) Yesterday was hard. Not only the "saying good-bye to the seniors" part, but there were other things too. I won't go into detail, but I'll summarize briefly just to say that, as is my usual pattern, I ended up looking out for people. One of my "favorite" (read: it hurt me a lot) quotes from the night, after I magically procured a pizza for some of my drunk friends: "A---, when did you get so awesome!?" You wouldn't think it was that bad. But I knew exactly what she meant, because you have to consider the source of these things. She's not my friend - we don't even really like each other, because... well, she doesn't really like many people. Her "default setting" so to put it, is not set to "like." Which is fine. But don't come over all nice, just because I'm taking care of you.

Admittedly, they would have probably mostly sorted themselves out if I had been elsewhere, but because I wasn't elsewhere, I felt responsible. I got them to a safe place, ordered and paid for a pizza, procured cups from a friend and gave them water - and made sure they drank it. I made sure they all got home... or at least had a place to sleep for the night.

After I got someone back to our dorm (with the aid of the Lantern Van, which I never call - except for this time, because it really would have been an impossible task without it), tucked her in, brought her a glass of water and put a trashcan next to her in case she needed to throw up, I walked up the stairs with RB and ZS. And then I just started crying, because I kept thinking of what that girl had said to me. I was too busy dealing with everything at the time to really process it. But it had been nagging at me, and once I had a few seconds of quiet, I finally let it get to me. They were really great about it. But all I could think about was the fact that I basically just take on this role of taking care of people all the time. And, for some people, that's all I am. I'm only important because I step in when I'm needed and get things done. It was that way on Saturday as I DDed, it's like that in rugby as I'm mostly used as a "place-filler" for A-side, it's like that... too often for my liking. (I do know that it's not with everyone, and I am grateful for the true friends that I have - but this is still too much of a pattern for me to be comfortable with.) And the worst thing? I fully allow this to happen. Because that's all I think that I'm worth, too.

Clearly, I have a lot to think about this summer - once I can get myself disentangled from this place for a little while, I think I'll be able to deal with things better.

I've just had it with Bryn Mawr for a while. I need some space, and I need it now.

the end of an era

Today, I started writing this:

So, I'm writing my final blog post from some patch of Haverford green, on actual paper. The last 48 hours have held a lot of "lasts:" last class as a sophomore (not nearly as epic as "last class as an undergrad" that so many of my friends have been claiming lately, but whatever - it's a milestone to me), last rugby game of the season, last "assignment-and-no-finals-don't-count," last Tradition with the class of 2010. By the time I copy this to the blog, I will probably change most, if not all of it.

And then it abruptly ends. Aha. Predictably, I am terrible at writing things down on paper. I'm too self-conscious, I love the quickness of typing, it feels so final and real... I just prefer computers, now that I'm so adjusted to them.

Anyway, today was fun, but exhausting. Prom Dress rugby was in the morning, which was actually somewhat of a disappointment, because we lost - to Drexel. It's really nothing against Drexel, but I remember playing them last year, and I remember playing Kutztown last game and... wow. I don't know what happened to us. (And "us" definitely includes me as well, because I really didn't feel as though I played well today.) Maybe we got a little overconfident, since they're a D4 team (we're D2), and we beat them every year. Maybe we didn't take things as seriously as we usually do - people didn't show up to practice a lot this week and I'm pretty sure there were some, ah, parties on campus to go to last night. Maybe we're all just exhausted from finals and the oppressive heat we were playing in just took whatever little we had left to give that game.

Either way, it was a little bit of a sad note to go out on. For my part, I felt like I was just not moving very quickly. (And I'm actually kind of a slow runner to begin with, so losing speed for me is really not ok.) During Friday's practice, I felt that way too, but I was hoping it was just the fact that I was so tired, plus the fact that I think I did something to my leg on Wednesday practice, and it was bothering me when I ran. But I don't know. I was slow, I got tired quickly, and I just wasn't as determined as I usually am. I'm disappointed, but I think we were all having the same off-day together. (It also probably didn't help that the scrum collapsed on me three times, the last of those bending my neck at a really unacceptable angle for necks to bend.)

But it was really great to see a bunch of alums at the match, and play with them in the (albeit brief; very brief) alumni match afterward. JW was there, much to my great joy. And some others that I played with, as well - LKR, LG, DE. And a few that I never played with, but heard epic stories about as a freshman.

I spent the rest of the day at Haverford (designated-driving friends around), which reminded me once again of how I need to spend more time there. As I keep telling people, it's a vicious cycle - I'm all "Oh, I should go to Haverford." "But wait - I don't really know many people there and it might be awkward." And why don't I know people there? Because I'm not there very often! I really need to work on this, because I've really liked all of the Haverfordians I've met so far, and would probably like more, were I to meet them.