Ben leaves for WSU in three days.
Three days later, an exchange student from Germany will manifest his presence in the room on the other side of the other wall in my bedroom.
Two days after that, I start my senior year.
People still ask me what my plan is.
Did I ever really have one?
I'm less concerned with maps of my future and where all these little pieces fit in and more concerned with the floorplan of knowing that they will make sense, that they will fit. That I will be a success not by scrupulous planning and the weights and measures of others' standards, but that I will be a success by my own devices. I will be a success in every way that God planned and willed for me to be.
Now to get off Defense,
-KL
15 August 2010
14 August 2010
There's Noone Else I Know How to Be
In T-minus 1.02 hours, we are having a House Opening.
I am not excited.
Yes, this means our house is the cleanest it's been since before we moved back in.
Yes, this means we're actually moved back in to our house, more or less.
Yes, this means dozens of people I don't know very well, or at all even, clomping around my home.
Now, I'm a pretty private person. I don't really open myself up to other people, and I definitely don't feel very comfortable letting strangers and acquaintances nose about my room. My room. Mine.
It's not that I really have anything in there to hide, necessarily. Unlike someone in this house who covered up their pipe with laundry. But this is my one space. The one true tiny plot of land that is all me. It's decorated the way I like it (T&S, foreign movie and zelda posters galore), my books are stacked by preference, my favorite movies and shows displayed openly (even the ones that declare me a complete and utter geek).
Invite people to walk through that, even after I've cleaned and shoved what I don't want seen into my closet. It still feels like a total invasion. My life and person is on display here and I can't help but feel exposed.
I know I shouldn't worry about little, ole' Master Gardener ladies and neighbors I've known all my life and whoever from West Side comes, but I can't help but think they will scrutinize my life, my interests, me.
It's totally irrational and I'm blowing it out of proportion, but I can't help it.
I love my room.
I love who I am and what I enjoy, but it's still so weird to be so open.
Paranoia be damned, I made brownies, perhaps I should have spiked them.
-KL
I am not excited.
Yes, this means our house is the cleanest it's been since before we moved back in.
Yes, this means we're actually moved back in to our house, more or less.
Yes, this means dozens of people I don't know very well, or at all even, clomping around my home.
Now, I'm a pretty private person. I don't really open myself up to other people, and I definitely don't feel very comfortable letting strangers and acquaintances nose about my room. My room. Mine.
It's not that I really have anything in there to hide, necessarily. Unlike someone in this house who covered up their pipe with laundry. But this is my one space. The one true tiny plot of land that is all me. It's decorated the way I like it (T&S, foreign movie and zelda posters galore), my books are stacked by preference, my favorite movies and shows displayed openly (even the ones that declare me a complete and utter geek).
Invite people to walk through that, even after I've cleaned and shoved what I don't want seen into my closet. It still feels like a total invasion. My life and person is on display here and I can't help but feel exposed.
I know I shouldn't worry about little, ole' Master Gardener ladies and neighbors I've known all my life and whoever from West Side comes, but I can't help but think they will scrutinize my life, my interests, me.
It's totally irrational and I'm blowing it out of proportion, but I can't help it.
I love my room.
I love who I am and what I enjoy, but it's still so weird to be so open.
Paranoia be damned, I made brownies, perhaps I should have spiked them.
-KL
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