Joyous Freedom

While it is nice to be home, I find that I have a need to write. I need to write, but I have no words. It's terrible. I am surrounded by family, friends, familiarity and the words do not come. My fingers sit idle looking at my keyboard driving me to madness. I have so much time on my hands that I can't even begin to focus. I can't force the words out, even now I struggle to place my feelings down. How is it that the things you want can be so difficult? The stories sit at the forefront of my mind and yet they refuse to be writ. How terrible it is.

SNOOOOWW

And it's snowing. It's snowing in November, in Kansas. At least it didn't start last night while I was at work. Standing outside directing traffic in this snow would not have been fun.

Internal Introspective

I feel sad. I actually counted how many interviews I've done this semester. I'm up to 19... Nineteen. And once more, nineteen interviews since August. And no offers. Not even a second interview offer. Not even with the company that I interned with over the summer. That's just cold. This starts to make me wonder what I'm doing wrong. I have some pretty good ideas, but still. It would be nice to be offered.

I feel like I need to sit down and really think about what I want to do with my life. Where do I want to live? What kind of projects do I want to work on? I feel like I could be happy doing just about anything just about anywhere, but apparently that comes off as nonchalance. I suppose I should work on that. I need to work on my branding.

I've been working on expanding my activities. Recently I was drafted to be the IES photography. I like it. It gets me involved, being involved is good. Having a legitimate reason to use my camera is nice. I'm not good at taking organization photos, framing people is hard. I did enter several of my personal pictures in a photo contests here at school, though. I don't think I'm going to win, but at least someone is seeing them.

I prefer taking pictures of animals.

Dark

I am scared of the dark. Like, run and and take a flying leap into bead to pull the covers over my head afraid.

When I told my mother this her first thought was it was the enclosed feeling that sometimes accompanies total darkness. This makes sense because she is claustrophobic. But I'm not scared by the closeness of the choking blackness. I'm more afraid of the not knowing. In darkness things are hidden, there is uncertainty. I don't like not knowing what's around me.

The things you can't see can and will hurt you. That's what cancer is like. I am a firm believer in the unseen. There are bad things out there when you can't see them.

But also there's the monsters.

Fem Nazi

I realized something today, gender specific terms annoy me. Not things like he and she but things like dude and dudette. I always thought of dude as a gender neutral term. I don't understand why people, particularly women get upset at getting called a dude. I can understand  why adults and professionals can take offense to juvenile terms, but when it is considered an affront purely because of its gender. I don't mind being called dude. I wouldn't mind being called buckaroo either, yet still a website still suggest that we need both buckaroos and buckarettes. Buckarettes? Really?

I don't consider myself a feminist. In fact I'm about the least opinionated person on just about any subject. But something about buckarettes seems to be one step too far. Is being a buckaroo so bad? Is it so hard to just be a dude? Can't everyone just be one of the guys?

Is that too much to ask?