Days 5-9

《I finally have a little break time to write again , and like last time,  I've clumped a few days together.  The last time I posted was Thursday night.  Friday came and went just like the past two before it. In the morning I parked in my usual place and began to eat my breakfast as I always do.  I had noticed that, by then, I had gotten to recognize the other cars in the lot, who like my car and I, got to school early, parked in the same spot, and got out at the same time.  I saw the small white car come around the corner and I knew exactly where it would park.  In fact, it was always the only car I ever saw park in my row during the mornings.  Inside, was usually two people, a boy and girl who may be brother and sister, friends, cousins,  boyfriend and girlfriend, to be honest I can't tell.  I have recognized that they'll always park in the first space in the row, with the curb on their left,  and a hedge directly in front.  I still can't quite understand why they like that spot, which to me,  looks pretty tight.  Every morning,  they whip around the corner, dive in , park. Then the boy on the passenger seat opens his door, peeks out, and makes sure they're in the lines before they get out. The thing that always shocks me is just how tiny the girl is, short and petite, yet seemingly older or more mature than her passenger.

On Friday,  I saw the car rip around the corner and watched waiting to see the boy peek out, but he didn't.  She kept pulling forward and hit the curb with great force.  She reversed & did the same thing over again,  as I cringed and "oohed" wishing I could tell her. When she got out, her passenger did not,  and it was then that I realized he wasn't  there at all, and maybe that's why she had so much trouble.  She continued on her way as I got out of my car.  I entertained myself by thinking why he might not be there ; maybe he didn't have a class, or was sick, maybe they were a couple and broke up, or maybe he had overslept. When I got over to the crosswalk, the girl crossed with me, and I tried my best to subtly look her over.  I didn't want to look creepy or intimidating,  so I avoided eye contact. I thought it was funny how our paths had crossed, and yet,  I knew she had no clue who I was, and probably didn't notice me at all. 

I continued on to go straight to my first class,  even though I still had about forty minutes left,  I had a slight developed obsession with one seat in particular and didn't mind waiting around in there anyways.  As I finally reached my building, I noticed the same girl from the white car walking in front of me.  She seemed to be making a beeline for the door that led to the hall that led to my lecture room. How funny it would be,  I thought,  if she was actually in my class.  Sure enough,  she walked through the entrance as I trailed behind. 

Today, Tuesday, I got out just as the boy and girl,  together again, yet still struggling to park, had began to get out of there's. I, with a handful of accumulated car trash, including the but of my muffin, which I couldn't  eat because ,after being microwaved ,had stuck itself to my paper towel and refused to let go, walked towards the trash can at the end of the row, another reason I enjoyed my parking space.  As I did so, I couldn't help feel as if the two were staring at me.  We ended up crossing the lot in a sort of synch , and as I heard whispers,  possible "shes" , I wondered if in fact the two had come to know me as the girl in the red car in their row who always had to check her doors individually. Excuse Cyndy's poor temperament.

Still,  I like to think the three of us had some sort of undeclared  subtle friendship.

Tracking back to the weekend, I found myself doing homework as always.  I feel like by now,  taking into consideration my last two years of high school,  I'm used to excessive homework.  In fact,  I think,  as proposed by my uncle,  I do take a little joy  in it. It doesn't bother me all that much.  I'm the type of person who would rather stay busy than have nothing to do. If I look back at my summer, I know I prefer this intense routine to lounging about on my phone all day, napping, and binge watching Netflix. Still,  I get upset when people tell me I need a break.  Quite  honestly,  I don't know any human being who can work 24 hours straight without taking a break.  I take plenty.  I use my phone,  set out my clothes, organize my room, or clean. Maybe these are not the breaks everyone is implying, but they're good enough for me for now.  I don't enjoy watching TV when I know I have things to do.  I can't swim. It's hard to hang out with my close friends who all still live where my home is,  and therfore, like to take breaks over there, where I cannot drive. Besides that,  I have to work whenever we have classes together.  I haven't made new friends who I feel close enough to hang out with,  and, honestly, the people in my learning community are in so many of my classes that I don't necessarily feel like spending outside time with them.  I think that part of my life will come together eventually and if I have more time to myself now,  then I'd rather take advantage of that than worry about things that need time. 

Like, I said, I found myself doing homework. I couldn't help feeling a bit alone that weekend, perhaps because I had a longer time to not float around the house, and instead, found myself in my room. I felt like maybe I should do more to get out, but I couldn't think of a reasonable excuse to get out. I instead printed the paper I had procrastinated on printing, because I didn't want to cause ruckus. It was the first time I used the printer, so I felt inclined to expect some type of complication. Sure enough,  the printer printed my paper blank. I tried changing my settings, and having  run into my aunt I explained the problem. She had me try again, and still blank papers flew out. She told me about how when my uncle had gone to print, papers had come out and he had thrown them away because they weren't what he was printing, and had just given up on printing. I felt as if this was directed towards me,  yet, I hadn't used the printer. She pulled out the trashcan, and I saw an email on top adressed to "Victoria ", which caught my attention,  but as I read it, saw it was a real estate email.  "I don't know if these are yours..." my aunt had said. I shook my head.  "Because you've printed before,  right?" . "No, " I said,  "This is my first time. " Reading over the trash, she realized those papers weren't mine and I felt altogether bothered that I was the first to blame for them and the printer not working,  when,  again,  I had been so hesitant to print that I hadn't before then.  After many tests, we realized the problem only occurred with the black ink.  I printed my paper out in a dark grey, which gave the impression of faded ink,  but was perfectly readable and decent.

After that fiasco, I did want to be left alone a bit. I didn't like receiving automatic blame and felt a bit disconnected. Nothing really happened the rest of the weekend, except at one point, I had a dream, that I was changing car lanes, and as I awoke, I found myself crashing to the floor. In other words, I had fallen out of my bed as , in my dream, I made my lane change. When I told my uncle this the next morning,  he couldn't stop laughing.

Sunday by midafternoon, I had exhausted my homework,  and was ahead enough that I felt comfortable taking a rest. I treated myself to a  YouTube marathon of all my favorite You Tubers who I had missed two weeks of uploads from. 

I was happy to go back to school Monday. I think I actually would prefer going to school a little everyday,  just because I like having somewhere to go. I had planned my outfit to be suitably warm, without overdoing it. I wore boho printed pants, a knitted shirt, my jean jacket,  and sandals to balance it out. I really liked the way it came out, but when I got to school,   I was freezing.

Today, I have on my right foot's number one enemy, my work shoes, as well as pants, a flannel, and a jacket,  and yet I am shaking. I even had to shift over to a sunnier bench because I was so cold.

Now,  I think I'm going to explore a bit so that I warm up, but I did want to finish this entry for now.  As always,  I'm sure I missed a few stories here or there, but I'm glad I got to update you all a little bit 》♡

Days 1-4

I wanted to think I'd be able to write every little detail about everyday,  but I soon realized just how much work mantaing 16 credits and an adequate sleep schedule is, and unfortunately this post will have to be a Mashup of my first four days on my own.

My first day on my own was obviously the most frightening, the scariest part being my first drive on my own in an unfamiliar city. A special thanks to Google Maps is due. The different thing about learning to drive versus driving on your own is that you no longer have someone to tell you when you're doing something wrong. I realized that on my own,  I became ten times more critical of myself,  my ride being filled with "oohs" , "ughs", "get in your lane Leasha", "that was an ugly turn", and "I'm sorry to all the cars behind me,  but I'm trying". Momentarily, I'll also switch to encouraging myself, often times without realizing it, I'll recite in a sing-song manner "It's okay", "Relax", "You're going to get to the other lane", & "You're the only one going a legal speed right now." Over these few days,  I will say that one grown tremendously more comfortable. I know if my phone should ever fail, I would know the way to go. I know in which exact places people are likely to make a bee line to switch into my lane last minute, and I'm always prepared to let them in. I come to very articulated stops at stop signs, and never assume that people know where I'm going even if everyone else seems to be turning the same way.

Although, I'll admit, driving hasn't been a fail free experience. For instance, on my first ride home,  my phone decided it didn't wish to sit on its holder,  and instead flung off within the first turn. I nearly had a heart attack because 1) I didn't know where I was going and 2) my phone had flung itself at me. Luckily for me, my guide continued to verbalize her instructions from my car floor. Needless to say, I've become very thorough in making sure all is secure before setting off. And of course, Cindy the Honda will always be Cindy. I had approached a red Honda Accord to find my stirring wheel lock gone,  and was extremely confused until I attempted to unlock my car and realized it was in fact, not my car. I sheepishly continued down the row to find my Cindy. I got settled in and the car locked itself as I was doing so.  Without thinking,  I attempted to unlock my stirring wheel causing Cindy to set off on one of her famous panic attacks. I tried to lock, unlock, and press the panic button, but still she wouldn't shut up. Finally, I got out of my car,  closed the door and locked it, causing her to finally be silenced. All I could think about was the fact that I probably looked like I had an overwhelming desire to steal a red Honda Accord.

In a weird way, driving is my favorite part of the morning.  I will usually wake up, do  my make up , my hair, triple check my items, use the bathroom, brush my teeth, fill up my water bottle and coffee bottle, grab my breakfast and lunch,  and then set off. Something about the drive over and eating in my car makes me happy. So happy, that a lot of times,  I have a hard time leaving my car. I'd much rather stay inside,  but as I learned today (day 4) , the longer I wait, the more people I must walk over and under and past , and in the morning,  it's just not worth it.

I also seem to appreciate Monday, Wednesday, and Friday the most,  which seems strange because these are my long days. On these days, I start my day off in Biological Anthropology, my favorite class purely because of its relation to biology. In addition, these three days are the days in which I don't have work,  which means a few things.  One,  that I can dress like myself. I've realized that in order to make it over in enough time, I really can't afford to wear different shoes on my work days. So,  I'm stuck with the same pants and shoes for two days of the week,  which gives little room for fashion creativity. I get excited to wear shorts and dresses and any shoes other than those pinky toe numbing work shoes. I think I also appreciate my gaps between classes,  in which often times I'll take a stroll around,  or more recently, find a place to get studying. I have a few favorite spots, one in the CHASS part of town which is in a way like a secret garden to me because I can find it maybe 1/5 times I look for it. Another,  and probably my top favorite at the moment is Olmsted Hall, which has nothing special to it but a few stony shady cool benches, but located in a not as central location, and therfore always a peaceful spot to get things done. I had thought I might adopt a new spot I stumbled upon in Sproul hall, a sort of outdoor walkway upstairs that joins two parts of the second floor together. However, after a splinter, possible tick sighting, and June bug attack, I've decided to put that one on the backup list for now. 

I love exploring and acting like I know exactly where I'm going when I have no clue at all. Apparently, I play a good charade because I've been asked for more directions than I've asked for (1 time in case you're wondering :) ). The neat part is,  I've actually been pretty successful in giving directions, which is a pretty big accomplishment considering I never really had a formal tour of my own.

The thing I think I've liked the most about the campus is the people. Our campus is literally oozing with interesting people. At first, I thought it was just my professors, one a former Chinese teacher at Princeton, another a skeletal anthropologist doing research in South America. But, it's not just them.  It's the students, like one of my learning community peers who's whole desire to go to college is based on answering the question "Why are human beings concious?".  There was the guitar player who,  as JJ claimed was getting ready to serenade me during a lonely uncrustable break. There was the guy I passed by facing the bell tower with a far off, yet focused stare, as his hand sketched away without him watching it. I managed to sneak a peak, and sure enough it knew what it was doing. There was the grumpy old lady cook at work who glared at me as she waited to grab her dishes herself, but who softened as I helped her out. I think my favorite part is that I rarely see the same people walking around twice, it's always a surprise what I'll see next.

Work has not been my most favorite experience so far.  I think one of my supervisors put it well today, "It gets pretty easy after while, but repetitive, and boring, and tedious and you think you'd rather do something else, but then what else can you really do?" I agree. It's an easy job in the sense that it's a routine. It is not easy,  however, to keep up with the dishes as they come in, need to be grabbed off the racks, scraped , sorted, washed,  and put away. It's a hot room that always smells like warm water and drying dishes. It amazes me how much people put on their plates. Sometimes, I find myself scraping mexican food, lasagna, and pizza from the same plate,  and I can't help thinking if that's what they left,  then what else did they have on their plate before they ate? Day 4 was probably the worst work day I had had in the sense that for some reason it was insanely nonstop busy and intense. I had 2 different supervisors and was volunteered to learn new skills like taking out the trash in the can that I could easily fit in. My shoes were insanely agitating, and after walking all the way back to my car, I found I was nearly limping to avoid the cramping,  which caused cramping in my calves. At the end of the day, I know I made money,  and maybe that's not the most motivating thing , but it helps.

I come "home" everyday thirsty and sweating, and eat a snack while begining my neverending homework cycle. Then my day starts again, at which I'm experiencing for the first time in awhile, I loathe for waking up early.

Notice, I say "home" instead of home.  In fact, when sending out my update texts, I never really say that I've gotten home, rather that I made it back.  Maybe it's  stupid nitpicking stubbornness,  but I guess I just don't feel right calling this place home.  It's not, I don't think I'll ever think it is. I miss my compact house , my baby puppies, my sisters, my mom, and my dad. I miss not having people to get my jokes like the fact that I have a TA named Alexander Henderson, and yet I insist on singing his name in my head as if he was Hamilton. I miss little shrieks of "GIVE ME A HUG" and replies of "don't touch me". I miss songs I don't even know the names of, don't know much about algebra, being sung at the top of someone's very special voice.  I miss being teased about my completely dramatically unrealistic t.v show. I miss winco trips and hearing "The Talk" as I set off to nap.

It's been a busy week and I hope I'll always be able to keep everyone up to date, because already I feel like I've forgotten too many good stories. I've probably missed out on a good portion at my home too.

Much love as always, and here's to adjusting! ,

Leasha

Day 0

Note: For a short time this entry disappeared before I was able to post it & I had thought it was long gone.  Now that I have find it once again,  I've tried to not add to much to it to preserve as much authenticity as possible. :)

          I've always been concerned about the people who ask questions such as "How do you picture your life in 5 years?" You'd think that if they're old enough or sophisticated enough to ask such a question they would be old enough to realize that no one can ever accurately answer that type of question,  in essence,  no one can predict the future. And yet , here I sit on my bed in a completely different situation then I pictured less than a month ago, and it still hasn't quite sunk in. I mean , for someone who critiques those who expect others to be able to predict their own futures, it shouldn't be such a shock that I was off predicting mine.  I had always kind of hoped I would spend my college days in a dorm room. I figured it would be nice to get up early on the weekends and go running around campus. I would always be close to my classes and could go to events without worrying about driving home. I would make tons of friends and would have just a touch more freedom for a taste.  And yet, when I decided to go to college so close to home,  I didn't see the point in all of that.  I would be able to drive myself.  I could stay close to my family.  I wouldn't have to deal with annoying roomates or sharing a shower.

 I didn't ever expect an in between, living away from my family,   without actually living on my own.

And yet here I am.

If I'm quite honest, I'm pretty scared.  Correction, I've been pretty scared. It's funny how I always want to think I'm an adventure enthusiast, and yet throw something unexpected at me,  and I grow uncomfortable.  I think the thing that scared me the most was how quickly everything happened. In just a week, I took a complete 360 from being dropped off by my parents to having to take care of myself.  I felt unprepared and maybe that's the real thing that frightened me.  What if I wasn't ready?

And yet, another part of me told myself that it was inevitable. I would have to grow up one way or another.  I had prayed since the beginning always asking God for the best opportunity for me to grow and to help me accept whatever was chosen for me.  And I guess, here ito is.

Here I am told I can come home at whatever time I'd like,  as long as I tell someone so. I won't always see everyone around, everyone is on their own schedule.  Here I  will drive myself where I need to go, do my laundry as needed, and decide when I study and when I go out.

Here, the dinner table feels smaller and the TV is always rambling on in the background. I must walk carefully down the stairs while an overenthusiastic canine shadow feels the need to take every step with me,  take a few steps ahead of me ,and go back over the steps  just taken. I must try my best to make conversation and remember that I have encyclopedias full of stories that my new audience has never heard of.

And yet,  despite all the newness and changes, I went to bed on Day 0 excited. For the first time I thought to myself that this might actually be a good idea and that I could do this.  I was scared and I didn't know much about what would happen the next day or week or month,  but for that moment,  I was okay.