Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Birthday Musings

I'm stupid for writing this because it's currently 12:39 A.M. and I have a full day tomorrow but sometimes you just can't sleep without digitally imprinting something that we call a page but is really not a page because its a screen... see, I'm already off track.

My transition to Exeter has not been all rainbows and sunshine. It has been terribly difficult. For those of you who read my blog I'm not sure if I've said it this blatantly before but you have definitely picked up on it. I struggled to find my place- am still not there- but most of all could not reconcile why I am here. Life back home was good, and life here seemed like not the right life for me. Maybe my lack of friends or ability to find adults to talk to. Maybe my soccer dreams being destroyed before my eyes as my body deteriorates from studying instead of running. Maybe my musicianship rotting away. At least that's what I felt was going on. I always find the negative, a common teenage dilemma, but I mean, I really found every negative point of view possible. After today things have definitely changed. It's almost like God made me tortuously get through half of the year before he said, "I told you so."

Another one of my problems is that I'm a people pleaser. Although it is so so so so so so terribly selfish of me to say, I enjoy it when other people encourage my work. At Exeter I just felt like my work was only degrading, my life, my friends, my body. I just didn't feel like me, nobody was telling me that I was doing fine. I constantly felt farther and farther behind. No matter how hard I worked, there is always something I'm not doing well enough.

Yesterday was my birthday. A day that everyone has and is really not special because... everyone has one. But it's a little special. Come on, admit it, when someone walks up and says "happy birthday" it has to feel a little good. For me, today, it was something I needed. Being new on campus I feel invisible, but today I got a chance to see how blatantly visible I really am. People all around campus said hi to me and happy birthday that I didn't even think knew me. The best part of the day came at the end. Every time there is a birthday in the dorm we have a cake and some ice cream, sing, and have a mini-celebration. Usually these promptly end and everyone goes back to studying. We all sign a card and give it to the birthday girl and the evening had a fun peak in it. Tonight was different because after I seemed to think it was all over my friends handed me cards and small gifts. I was not by any means expecting any kind of gift from any of them, this was not the usual custom, by no means obligatory. Enamored, I could not believe that they went out of their way for me. I'm so horrible at receiving gifts because on the inside I'm crying but on the outside it probably just looks bad. After we went to our rooms and I opened the cards I received everything that I've needed over the past few months. These girls whom I have just met this year truly believe in me. They told me that I am determined and that they know I will succeed. That they are impressed by me. Okay, so it's my birthday so they have to say this, right? But they didn't even give cards to previous housemates.... I don't deserve this.

It all just made me feel so ungrateful, that I'm the one that will blow off going to Winter Formal with the dorm because I'm tired. So what- I'm tired right now but I'm still writing this. I need to be more social, I just didn't think that anybody really cared. I'm just too damn selfish to understand what it means to really be there for others. And they have been here for me the whole time but I chose to ignore them. Why am I so ignorant. I don't hate Phillips Exeter. I love it. I love where I am and where I'm going to be. Everywhere has its rough patches and the ones I face are certainly different from the ones I face back home, but the are not worse. My life is on a completely different track. The day I received my acceptance letter one of my teachers told me this. They told me that all of a sudden the trajectory of my life completely changed. They were right. It has in every way possible. The million dollar question is, was it worth it? Until today I've been rattling with this question. Crying about it. Abusing myself over it. Concerned I might need a counselor to tell me what I'm doing wrong- how can I be asking myself this question, isn't Exeter all that I've ever wanted? No, but it's what I needed. Today I realized this. Today I've made up my mind because the people at Exeter really do care and so do I. They are passionate friends that I will know for the rest of my life and I am not going to go home to a life I consider easy, what's the fun in that. I am going to be me, Emma Dyer, the crazy girl who seems to do everything. I assure you this is only legend, I do not do everything- far from it, but one thing I can do is be an Exonian. And boy, am I proud to be one.

I do not deserve these fantastic gifts, thank you so so incredibly much for everyone who wished me a happy birthday. As simple as it is, I came to a great necessary realization today and you (guided by my Lord) have helped me discover it.

Saturday, January 2, 2016

I've Never Been Told to Run Faster

This past week I have been fortunate enough to participate in the Disney Soccer Showcase in Orlando, Florida with my new club soccer team. It was... interesting.

At this point I'm used to being the new kid. It's fine, all is well, I know get over yourself, Emma. But I just can't. I want to play soccer in college and the year that it matters the most I have to start all over on a new team. I'm already screwed because I'm not on the top team- I guest play at big tournaments like Disney and practice with them, but my actual team is not them, everything got messed up because I didn't get to come out for real tryouts since I was working at Sky Ranch. And so yeah, now I'm stuck in limbo. Soccer limbo. I want to get better and the girls on this team are so so so good. I want to be as good as them, I'm trying so hard to get better but I just can't given my schedule. It's impossible and I can't get better without sacrificing school. At this point, that's what I'm going to do. I know, this is sacrilegious for me, Emma Dyer, to say, but I just don't like school. I already made it to Exeter and I know that isn't going to carry me into any school I want, but I'd rather have a chance to play soccer in college than worry about getting a couple more A's. So if it means I have to dick every assembly, fine. If it means going through hell, then fine.

I love soccer so much and I just dream about being able to be as good as collegiate athletes or peers who play ECNL. I want to dedicate as much of myself as I can to it because it's something I love. This weekend was hard. Being the new kid makes it easy for everyone to blame you for the smallest mistakes. If I was the one to make a bad touch then it must be my fault we lost the whole damn game. Even though they may have made a more detrimental mistake two minutes earlier.

During my game today I was played a decent ball down to the corner. It was on the ground but not perfect, especially since it was far more in the path of the defender than me. One of my teammates yelled, "Come on, you have to be faster than that." Normally I'm the one yelling this. It made me realize how far behind I really am. How can I want to play soccer in college when I'm not the fastest one out there? If I don't have the best foot skills? If my touch is off? I can't, that's the answer.

So starting when I get back to school I solemnly swear to start a new lifestyle. Call it some cliché New Year's Resolution, but I'm going to dedicate myself to my body. Going to bed earlier, waking up earlier to work out. Regaining good eating habits. Going to as many soccer practices as possible. Heck, maybe I'll even give up music because that sure isn't getting me anywhere and I'd rather be running than blowing into a saxophone for an hour. But most of all- time management. I've gotten used to the Exeter lifestyle and now I'm ready to make my own. I want to be the strongest and fastest one on the field but the only way that is going to happen is through a heck of a lot of work. I never want to be told to run faster ever again.

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Christmas Musings

It is a strange feeling when you are able to actually notice change. Today is Christmas Eve, and until recently the routine seemed so constant or regular unlike now when it is so different from the times I remember as a younger child. How could I be so oblivious to how drastic things have changed? Why did they change in the first place?

I grew up in Dallas, Texas. I lived (and still live) with my brother, mother, and father. In Texas I also had family, my mom's sister's family, which consisted of my uncle, aunt, and two male cousins who are eighteen and sixteen years older than me. My grandmother and grandfather (from my mom's side) also lived in Texas and I saw them a good amount as well. I never saw any family from my dad's side; he has two brothers and a sister but I do not know who they are other than being able to recognize their names in conversation. My mother also has two other brothers whom I saw a good amount and continue to see every once in a while, but they didn't live in Texas so it was (and is) an annual to biannual to maybe every five years visitation schedule. The point is that the only extended family I spent a lot of time with was my aunt's family. And Christmas was always our big holiday.

Every year for as long as I could remember Christmas Eve was at their house in Arlington where we would come and have our Christmas Eve dinner, hang out with family, and then go to church. After church we would come back and watch Christmas Vacation- the one with Chevy Chase- and my uncle would put on his matching Clark Griswold flannel as we watched. Then once the festivities had ended we would pack up the car and drive back across town to my house in Dallas where my parents would let us open one small present before we went to bed. The next morning we would wake up bright and early, but not too early because usually my parents gave us a time that we had to wait until we could get up. The Santa gifts would be lying out and our stockings were full. We would revel in our new gifts but we did not open any of the ones under the Christmas tree, those we had to wait for. We waited until my aunt, uncle, and cousins would all get to our house with all the presents that were under their tree. We would put them all under our tree and then eat brunch. After, we sorted all the gifts into piles for their designated receiver. Of course we then opened all of the gifts and after it was all over we cleaned up, had conversation, played with new toys, ate dinner, and after a long day everyone went home. It was all so routine. No questions, no surprises, that's just how Christmas was and always is going to be. It didn't last as long as I'd hoped.

When I was twelve, we moved to Columbus, Ohio. My aunt was furious at my mother for "leaving" her. I'm not really sure what she wanted though, it wasn't anybody's fault that my dad lost his job and found a better one in a place that isn't a short drive across the city away. The first Christmas we went back to Texas. I got to visit friends and family as if time had not passed. But it was still different because when I woke up on Christmas morning I wasn't at my house in Dallas, I was on a blowup bed in my aunt's kitchen. The day was still fine and I love getting to see my cousins but it still had the sting of lemon juice in fresh cut as I was constantly reminded that Texas was not my home. The next Christmas we didn't go back. Nor the next Christmas. Last Christmas we did. And it was worse. Things were too far removed. I didn't have any friends left to go visit- they'd all moved on. My cousin is married and had a baby on the way. My other cousin came only for a few hours with his girlfriend. The tradition was no more. Christmas had changed.

It continues to change. I had never missed Christmas Eve church service in my life. It was ritual, sacrilegious not to go. Three years ago we went to my cousins house in Illinois for Christmas. We didn't go to church. I didn't understand. What do you mean we aren't going to church. It's Christmas Eve?! Like the only two times of year that are explicitly mandatory are definitely Easter and Christmas. We went to church nearly every Sunday but we aren't going on Christmas Eve?!!!!! I was very confused. I like to call this year the "gateway year." It's when my parents stopped trying. They didn't take us to church any more. Nor did they go to church. I still don't understand how a mother and father who so adamantly forced their children every single Sunday to go to church, were our Sunday school leaders, friends with our pastor- how could they just stop? Everything I'd ever learned was that difficult times are the epitome of times when Christ is needed in our life yet they seemed to flee from Him as soon as it became difficult to "fit in socially." They didn't even try. They just stopped. So now they don't go to church, my brother is an atheist, and it's all my fault because I didn't take up my Christian responsibilities to make them come back to church and now it's too late because I don't even freakn' live in Ohio anymore.

I went to church today. They didn't. Guilt twisted like a cleaver inside my gut as I stepped through the doors into the church building without my family and instead with my friend. It's my fault. It's all my fault. Why am I not a better Christian and follower of God. I don't deserve His grace if I can't even take up the courage to make my own family come to church with me. I guess when you get down to it, that's what has been bothering me. Not the change in how Christmas is celebrated, but the permanent changes of my life that Christmas magnifies. Knowing that I will never go to Christmas Eve service with my whole family and wake up the next morning with presents and family, it's bothersome but that's something everyone goes through. It's the permanence of such an important and regressive change that makes me hate this time of year.

I could just be a spiteful teenager wishing for the easy life when, in comparison to what the future holds, I know my life is so stinkin' easy, but I still feel entitled to be upset with myself and how much I just suck at life in general. Which is once again a very teenagery thought, but I don't care because at this point in time in regard to my religious duties as a Christian, yes I suck. I want my Christmas back. I think this is an okay and rational feeling, but I also realize that it is time for me to get over it. I haven't yet. But I'm in the process. And this Christmas was a good start.

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Reminiscing and Remembering

I never elaborated on how going back to my old high school went. For starters, I did what I said I was going to do- I sucked up my ego and walked right in. My backpack held a few books for protection and my car keys dangled out of my pocket; time had been placed on pause and resumed without missing a second. I walked into my physics teacher's classroom and sat down with my friends, casually saying hello and continuing conversation with my new classmates. He played it cool, as though my presence was normal, until he finally caved in and told me that I was missed in his AP Physics class that I was rostered on at the beginning of the year and that he missed watching my ruthless tackles out on the soccer field.

That was my first class, the normalcy of it all encompassed me in comfort. I then moved on to my English teacher's classroom. I had dinner with him, his wife, and my friend the previous night, so he was aware of my apprehensions. I sat in the back of the classroom next to one of my best friends; my teacher didn't say anything about my presence and when I participated in what the class was doing he made sure not to draw any additional attention. A normal day. I had forgotten how much I loved sitting in his classroom, listening to the rambling yet articulate lectures and discussions. During third period I visited my Spanish teacher who had a free period. I adequately distracted her and we talked the entire period. I then went back to my English teacher's room to say hello to more of my friends who now have him as a teacher, again reliving the vitality of his teaching. And that was it. I left during lunch. I came back after school to say hello to teachers and of course my English teacher wanted to know how my day had gone. He always forgets that I am only a junior because I took his class a year earlier than normal, which means he also forgets that I am friends with nearly all of his students. He was surprised to see me chatting with so many students considering last year I was not very social, which was only because my classmates were not in my grade. What I'm getting to is that the day was amazing. I realized that despite how much I used to hate the humdrum routine of public school it is infinitely more comforting than the unpredictable life I currently live. You never miss something until it's gone- the cliché phrase dominates most of my life and always has.

I didn't want to go back to New Hampshire after fall break. I cried the night I came home because I couldn't believe home was still there and I cried the night before I left because I still think it will disappear.

I was upset by seeing how easy a life I could have continued to live. Excelling at every facet of my life, graduating top of the class, having a great soccer team, music teachers, and time to be me. And I didn't want to go back to what has now become my reality. Struggling to keep my nose above the rising waters and being pulled to the bottom by work and work and more work. The change in pace of life was and is so drastic that sometimes I can't even recognize the world I used to live in- it does not seem possible that it could exist. I hated Exeter with so much passion that I contemplated finding a way to get a flight back home or getting expelled. I missed my real friends of which I seemed to have none at school. I missed my teachers who have been a greater support system than anyone else in my life. At Exeter we get new teachers every ten weeks, they don't get a chance to really know me and I to know them. I missed my car and the freedom to explore; going to poetry night downtown on Wednesdays or taking a weekend trip to go to the Cavaliers game. Or driving myself to soccer practice without total reliance on someone else. I am very self conscious about being reliant- I hate it. I missed it all.

But I went back. On the bus back to Exeter my friends informed me that "comments" were up. Comments are individual reviews written by your teacher about the student's performance during the preceding term; I read mine and was happily surprised. The whole term I thought I was incomparably worse of a student than the kids that had been doing this for the past two years but the comments told me the exact opposite. It was a necessary start to my two weeks of what I thought were going to be hell. But in reality the past two weeks really did show a turning point. Maybe it was just such a short duration of school that my mind could make it through, but a lot happened. I am now an editor for the newspaper. I started playing club hockey and met some cool people and teachers. I have a new English teacher who is making me once again eager to write instead of afraid of criticism. I have the same chemistry teacher who seems to think I'm a decent student and I really like his class, along with the fact that I don't have to get a new teacher in a class that is my most difficult subject. The arts journal that I am an editor of came out in physical copies- there is just something about being able to hold your work that makes it that much more special. My grades are improving drastically. Soccer has been fine and recruiting is picking up but my high school coach took initiative and had a meeting with me, so we are now on the same page. Music has been continuing to be fine and my teacher continues to tell me that I am getting better every week. As sappy and horrible as it sounds, I needed reassurance as to why I was attending Exeter. During the Fall Term I just didn't feel like I wanted to have to fit into a place where I seemed to be failing instead of return home where I was thriving. I wanted the easy way out for the first time in my life.

I told my roommate about my musings of not wanting to go back to Exeter senior year and she told me that she wasn't sure why I decided to come to Exeter in the first place when it seemed like I had everything I wanted back home.

I thought about that for a long time. I still think about it. But I know that I'm still going to Exeter next year. Next year will be easier. I get to choose all of my classes, soccer recruiting will be over, I will have college applications done, and soon it will be senior spring and the process of uncertainty will repeat itself in the new chapter of life entitled "college."

Although this year has been and will continue to be difficult I am starting to feel more comfortable around Exeter. Because my fellow Exonians are the only ones who know how I feel. There is no one at home who understands why I left and also knows what it's like to be a student at the country's most prestigious prep school, but they do. So after a couple weeks of going through school actually knowing what the heck I'm doing, I feel better. I feel ready for the next year and a half. I feel ready to take on the separation and let go of what I thought was home, because home changes every day.

Monday, November 30, 2015


My words have been fleeting lately. They aren't the way I want them to be. Maybe I'm just around amazing writers all the time but this year I've taken a serious blow to my confidence level in writing. I get nervous every time I pick up my pen- something I've never experienced before. I focus on what others think too much. Not just in my writing and it has been hurting me lately.

I finally got the wake up call this week when I was talking to my friend about how nervous I was to go visit my old school for the day. I didn't want to be that kid that goes and stays at school during break to "visit" everyone because they are just going to talk about me behind my back, again, about how annoying I am. She told me something important though. If they are going to talk behind your back, you are not going to be there and they are going to do it no matter what- so get over it. All of my actions the past ten weeks have been predicated over the opinions of others. At home I (at least I used to be) comfortable with myself. I could do whatever I wanted and it didn't bother me. It's not that it bothers me to be myself now, it's just that I think about who I am a lot more. I refuse to digress into the "who am I" conversation, but what I'm trying to convey is that my brain has been flipped back to 2011 Emma when I was new to Ohio, just as I am now new to New Hampshire. It sucks, why do I do that. I spent so many years just getting over it and now, now in my sixteenth year of living I decide to care. It is stupid. So I'm just going to get over it and go see my friends at school tomorrow. And if you have anything against the fact that I go to boarding school and think that it is for pithy rich kids, that's cool, you're entitled to your opinion so go for it. But I refuse to let it change how I behave and who I am.

Back to words. I've lost my touch. And I'm searching for a new one. I'll let you know when I find it.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Inside A Moment

I find myself engrossed in life. Isn't that where I should be?

Amid our daily lives moments take hold of us, maybe even more specifically it is a mindset that overcomes us. This is very abstract, I understand, so let me put it into prospective. Today, November 21, 2015 I went to my very first hockey practice at Phillips Exeter Academy. I was mortified to go. I haven't played hockey before, I can skate pretty well (it is one of my favorite past times) but the stick in my had was a foreign object. Thoughts about what the coach would think, what others would think, if I would be prepared, if I was going to be unfathomably unprepared... all of these things raced in my mind. So much so that I couldn't do any other work because I was waiting for the clock to turn to 3:05 and I could depart to the gym. The past few days my mind has been on hockey. Will I be able to manage it considering my ridiculous schedule and soccer outside of school, which is already difficult to coordinate. But I want to do it so bad. I've wanted to play hockey since I was ten years old and now they are INVITING me to play with them. Anyway, I went to practice and it was amazing. Obviously I'm not going to be a professional hockey player but there were other girls who were equally or less experienced than me, and I fit in perfectly. Unfortunately due to schedule complications and the fact that my indecisiveness to play hindered getting my name on the roster, I am not technically on the team. After talking to coaches though I am allowed to practice with the team and learn how to play. This is almost better than being on the team! I don't have to worry about playing time when I miss hockey to go to soccer. I don't have to coordinate rides so that I can go to half of hockey and half of soccer, I don't have to go to away games that are hours from campus and take away precious study time. Instead, I get a soft start introduction and get to play with the team. And for me, that's all I want. But can you tell, my mind has been in circles thinking about this. Why? It is a moment, a moment of my life that took ahold of me. The organizing and planning, so petty in a sense. It takes something to wake you up.

I wake up when I talk to friends. Before this year I don't really know what woke me up, but I notice this "waking up" a lot more now that I have such limited time to take a step back and think about the world in general. Talking to friends reminds me of the world outside of my bubble and that there are people in my life that are genuinely important to me. At school, I just haven't made those friendships yet, and I shouldn't be expected to, it's only been three months. Suddenly there is someone who has no clue what I'm talking about when I speak in terms of Chal Fit and JV Puck and opting during spring term. Because none of that matters in their world. And it makes my world feel small, but small in a good way because I'm noticing the fact that it is small.

I watched this movie today call The Skeleton Twins. I would recommend it, although it is an indie film, which is my favorite genre so I'm biased. It stars Bill Hader and Kristin Wigg, both phenomenal SNL alums. The film is not funny, just to get that straight. It just deals with so many moments in life when we are engrossed by our own small isolated situations that we forget about the world around us. It sounds terribly cliché but, again, let me put this into context. The film starts out with Bill Hader's character (Milo) trying to kill himself. He gets put in a hospital and his twin sister (Maggie, portrayed by Kristen Wigg) comes and visits him- this is their first time speaking in ten years. Milo moves back home with Maggie to "recover" a bit, but we quickly realize both of their lives are complicated morally. Maggie has a cheating compulsion despite having an extremely faithful, supportive, almost idealistic American husband and Milo revisits an old teacher of whom he was (debatably) molested by in high school- their relationship is complicated, saying if it was love or molestation is up to personal interpretation. At the end of the film Maggie attempts to commit suicide because her husband finds out that she was sleeping with other men and taking birth control while they were supposedly trying to get pregnant. The guilt of the moment invokes an extremely irrational decision. Nobody was there to wake her up. To show that her place in the world is not explicitly defined by these (relative to the world) minuscule actions, when in the moment it devours her to the point of fatalism.

Nothing woke Maggie up and instead of seeing her place in the world, she chose to eliminate it. Thankfully her brother, literally, came and saved her. But not all of us are that lucky.

I wake up. This film wakes me up. I think an easy conclusion to come to would be that things that make us "think" wake us up, but I would argue the exact opposite. Moments of involuntary exposure, a subconscious level of thinking. I don't have to do anything while watching a movie, but yet it still provokes my thoughts more than the hours of Shakespeare I analyze for a specified purpose or the Lewis Structure diagrams I use to supposedly explain the composition of the world. None of those things interest me, I'm doing them because I have to, they aren't thoughtful works, they are necessary works. Sitting down to watch a film, I have intention but not intensity. I'm not going to be tested over interpreting the meaning of the film correctly. Listening to Jimmy Fallon's monologues, I am not going to be graded on how well I analyze his effective rhetorical devices. No. I'm developing my own thoughts rather than trying to emulate someone else's. And now I'm out of the moment. My thoughts are not organized for a specific purpose, they are organized for me. For me to write down and remember forever. I have these thoughts on my own and they are unique, because I do not have any pressure of someone telling me they are wrong. There is no teacher that is going to yell at me for the poor grammatical structure of this blog post! Sometimes grammatical structure has no effect on content. Only sometimes. Good writers get away with it.

Stay woke. This is why I want to go into television. It makes me think and live, and love, and enjoy. I haven't had thoughts this personal and meaningful all term because I haven't had time to sit down and ask myself "what I think"- I only ask "what will others think." Television and film is only one of the many ways people get away from the moment. Books, radio, parks, the sun- a lot of things wake people up, but television is certainly my favorite. I refuse to be stuck, and I refuse to let others remain stuck. So with my love for life and the world we live in writing monologues for my pal Jimmy Fallon is how I want to wake the world up.

Damn, this could be some Meditation material right here. Oops, stuck in my bubble again... if you don't go to PEA (Phillips Exeter Academy) the term Meditation is probably meaningless. Apologies. Had to get these thoughts off my chest. And only hope to live by them; for now it's back to studying.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015


The screen in my pocket is all I have left.

A text message here. A photograph here. I scroll, press, like, tag, listen, watch. But I'm not there. Your face is pixelated. Our conversations have vitality and meaning. Whether you're in Austin, Texas, Westerville, Ohio. Southlake or Columbus or D.C. We are connected, talking to each other in a space as if face to face. Yet hundreds or thousands of miles separate us. What am I losing? I am here. Not here,

I haven't written in so long. Far too long. I need to write more. Things get too confusing when I don't write them down.

I have almost completed my first term as a student at Phillips Exeter Academy. Just as everyone was curious about where I was going, they are now equally curious about where I've been. Exeter. That is all I have to say. I go to Exeter. I live in Exeter. I study at Exeter. My clothes say Exeter. The newspaper is called The Exonian. The bubble is small. It is overwhelming to have hardly any separation from school, no time to sit down and enjoy The Walking Dead or chill with friends. Work. Work. Work.

The reason I haven't written anything is because I cannot rationalize my writing. It is a selfish ambition. To write. Because it isn't bettering my academics. It's not making me a better musician. My abs are rotting away as I sit down to take the time to type these arbitrary symbols. But where else am I to put my thoughts. Exactly. That is why my mind starts to turn into pudding.

This week has been rough, because I can't focus. Seriously I'm worse than a kid with ADD and no adderall- was that politically incorrect, sorry. Six days until I go back to Columbus, maybe then my mind can turn off and relax, but right now I am swamped by essays to write, things to read, instruments to practice, sports to better myself in, and the expectation to manage it all expertly. I can't, I just can't. I'm not trying to complain, it isn't that I can't handle it, it's just that you cannot expect me to do it all perfectly. I'm sorry. When my newspaper article isn't as good as it should be because I only got 4 hours of sleep and have to keep going until all my work is done, which elicits another night with only 4 hours of sleep- do not get mad at me.

But you, the messages you send me. The notes of encouragement. The FaceTime chats. The SnapChats. The Instagram tags. I treasure them. That is what keeps me going, knowing that in six days those digital ones and zeros will not separate us and instead I can embrace your living body. Flesh, color, living.

I love school, I love it so much. But balance. Balance. Tonight I will go to soccer practice, come home after the dinning hall is closed, practice my instrument, order food, start homework, drink tea to stay awake, become delirious, somehow finish what is necessary, set an alarm for 5:30, wake up and continue to work.

So why do I not have time to write? Every second I sit here is a second I could be sleeping, restoring my body. Or working, in an attempt to be able to heal my body properly. My thoughts are scattered, I do not have time to cohesively write a post. So for now this is it. I'll try my best to do better. I think during break I will probably write a crud ton about what has been going on and thoughts in general, but while I'm at school there just isn't time.

Time, what an amazing construct.