The art of Recalling.

I know I said I would be writing my scary essay, however, I have little to no inspiration. The only thing running through my head is how important this is-- I'm almost positive I'm putting too much onto this but my brain is thinking that getting into school is harder than it really is. Maybe I'm subconsciously sabotaging myself so that I will miss the opportunity to send in my application and blame not getting accepted on my procrastination instead of my inability to write papers and lack of experience. But, I know that if I don't send in this application my parents will tan my hide and I'll be at a community college for another semester and I definitely don't want that.

Wow. I just talked myself into the benefits of getting this paper done. I'll be tackling this as soon as I'm done with this post. It's amazing what a little self-reflection can do. Well, that and the fear of my parents. The fear of my mom.

6:30 is the time I awoke. The weather has a strange ability of waking me up. It wasn't even raining; it was just extremely windy. I'm staring out the top half of my window since the bottom half is blocked by my air condition unit. The trees were going crazy. They were having a techno-rave except without any music (and I'm a little offended that I wasn't invited). I was laying in the dark just watching the trees have their moments of fun and then my next thought was "Dear Jesus, please don't let my window blow in." The only thing separating my room from the outside are two small pieces of foam and duct tape. Probably ten minutes pass and I run through all the events that would take place if my window did blow in. 1. I would probably freeze, 2. I would have to run down stairs and find some type of tape, 3. Run back upstairs and figure out a way to repair my window while getting attacked by the wind, 4. there would be the possibility of that hornets nest getting into my room so I'm not really sure how I would handle that one but some screaming would probably be involved and the retrieving of parents. After ten minutes of watching the party and running through every bad scenario I turn up my Coldplay CD loud enough to block out the sound of the wind and the sound of my mother making coffee and I go back to sleep.

I was frozen to the core. I am still freezing. I'm wearing my man-pants and a hoodie and I'm still cold. I can't feel my feet. I might cause some mischief and push some buttons on that thermostat to see if I can unfreeze myself. The worst part of having a cold house is showering. I think it's going to be amazing to pump boil water through the spout but right when I step out I'm an ice cube. It's an issue that I've been trying to address for years but the senator hasn't replied to any of my emails.

Xanga is probably my favorite type of blogging system and I was looking over some of my old entries-- check it:

Thursday, January 05, 2006
I hate it when I feel like I have to impress people. Like, "Hey, I'm having fun without you" and this is lame. I felt this last Tuesday and it sucked. And then I was sad-- I don't know for sure why, but if it was because of what I think it is: I suck. Carmen, get over it!

Time goes on but it's amazing how things rarely change.

It's that feeling you get when you come home from a hard days work and you take off your clothes and you're just, "Ahh..."
--Carmen