Staring at my apple tree

Apple Tree3178374_e9cb3bd5

I was a lot of things when I was four, but most importantly, I fancied myself a song writer. I would sit on my bed, tape recorder in hand, trying to get the best recording I could. I then listened to the cassettes everywhere I went, turning my own songs into my instant favorites. In fact, to this day other’s can remember the words, and by others, I mean only my mom. What a treasure it would be if I still had those compilations. Alas, they’ve gone missing over the years, most likely mistaken for a Mary-Kate and Ashley album I no longer enjoyed (blasphemy in itself).

Looking back, I see these recording as true musical genius. Just starin’ at my apple tree. That would have been the song that changed the world. I wrote it while sitting on my bed, get this, staring at my apple tree. I don’t remember any of the other lines, but there were many verses and a course. My mom totally fed into it too – she would play it in the car, learn the songs with me, and commend my amazing skills. If I had limited access to a time machine and only got one use, I’d go back to 1992 and get those cassettes so I could treasure them forever. Then I’d realize how terrible they were and regret going back in time. OR (more likely – obvi), they’d be Taylor Swift’s next #1 hit because shiiitt, I’ve got connections.

How far we come

When I was looking through old emails for my Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen fan site, I stumbled upon something I wrote in 2003. I was emo at the time to say the least, and suicidal if we prefer a more blunt approach. Here is the un-edited version of my thoughts on a lonely night in January, eleven years ago. It is complete with spelling errors for your amusement (WARNING: you will need the laugh).

I’m so scared right now. i am shaking.  I am grasping for air.  i dont want to die. but sometimes i think i do, and i am scared that if i think i do, i might try, when deep down i really dont want to. what happens when i do try, and then i change my mind? what happens when my mind desides to change, when it is already to late? is 10:58 right now, but what if i dont live till tomarrow? what if my mind desides to over come what i really feel deep down? what if i go down to the kitchen and get the knife? my life could end in an instant.. but yet i know i dont want it too. i think, how could i be so selfish, to want to take my own life? when all day i try to stop other people from making the same mistake. Then i start to think about what happens after. Who crys? who forgets me? Who moves on? Who doesnt?  Whats wrong with being different? we go through life with people teaching us we can be who ever we want, when really we have to be who everyone else wants us to be.

Besides the obvious desire to give my middle-school self some screen time, I’ve posted this for a reason. I’ve posted it because it is important to know and understand where we all come from. Earlier this week I was accepted to Yale with nearly a full scholarship. I wonder what that girl, the one who was so, so sad, would say about who I am today.

I find this thought comforting for a few reasons. First, it reminds me that nothing is forever; everything changes. It means I can’t get too held up in the moment because soon it will be over and I’ll have moved on. Second, it’s okay that sometimes I’m a sad-cat, and even that I used to be an extremely sad-cat. I’m still super strong and can accomplish a lot. Or so Yale thinks ;) Lastly, it means it gets better. Highs and lows evolve. This week I’m stressed out about all the other decisions coming in… but this time next year I’ll be somewhere else… and that somewhere is still a mystery. My “low” today is a hellofa lot better than it was then, for which I am thankful :)

Last minute jitters

Stanford is due tomorrow which means I’m pretty much freaking out and nearly hyperventilating. I needed to take a little cry break on Joe’s shoulder even. Crying is fine, because I haven’t cried in a while. It wasn’t even a good cry though, just a little mopeyness.

I didn’t know what this one would feel like, but it is really nerve wracking. Last week when I submitted MIT, I wasn’t stressed. I put my best foot forward and am happy with how it turned out. But with Stanford, I want to have it just perfect which is impossible because I don’t know what perfection is even if it exists. I’ve just got to put all I can into it and hope for the best, but it also feels like I should be able to do more. It’s an overwhelming feeling of just not being good enough, which is lame.

I briefly considered listing one of my old Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen fan site awards on the “Awards and Honors” section, because I really don’t have anything else. And, while I am legitimately proud of them because I was young and taught myself how to code HTML, I don’t want them to think I’m making light of the application. It’s also kind of pathetic if my only award is from 2001 so I left it off.

I’m going to go to sleep, get a great night of rest, and wake up early tomorrow to put together all the final touches. My essays are done (except one for a fellowship), 90% of the application itself is done, I just need to read through everything 10 more times probably. But, mmmrrrahhhhhhhhh

I make lists. Here is one of things I am stressed out about.

Things I am stressed out about

  1. Money
    • Lack of it. Especially around Christmas time. Plus, I went shopping this weekend and maybe shouldn’t have. But it was fun and good retail therapy while the high lasted. Now I just have the guilt. I’ll return the shoes most likely. The sweater is really cute.
  2. Work
    • Not busy enough. Things were better last week and are hopefully good this week, but still. Sometimes I’ll read a tweet about a company I’m interested in out in San Francisco and I’m mad that I’m stuck here in MN. But, not really mad because I know I will get to leave as soon as Joe is done with school and I’m being a supportive girlfriend.
  3. The party
    • Cleaning. This house isn’t like, bad, but just the typical stuff like vacuuming and what not before people come over. And I kind of want to do laundry, but I bet people that are coming over for our birthday party won’t care if there are dirty clothes in the hamper.
    • Shopping for supplies. Both food and drinks. And figuring out the deets on how I want to decorate. I have most of the stuff figured out and I know what I’m going to get and what not, but this week is a busy week for Joe (I just found out he has a paper due Saturday night… how stupid is that?) so I’m left to do most of the stuff on my own. Like shopping.
  4. Writing
    • I’m super far behind on NaNoWriMo
    • I have stuff to do for my memoir class too, which isn’t until later this week but I’m still allowing myself to be stressed about it
  5. My weight
    • I’ve been feeling like a fatty lately
    • My weight isn’t up, but I just am not as muscular as I once was. I should be working out more, but a gym membership costs money and I’m probably too lazy to do it anyway
  6. Losing stuff
    • I can’t find my skewers. It isn’t a huge deal and I can just go buy some more at Target, but where the heck did they go? I’ve checked seriously everywhere.
    • I also can’t find my glow sticks. I’m less concerned about this one because I wasn’t sure if I had kept them anyway, but now instead of inserting awesome glow sticks into self-blown balloons, I’ll probably just get a couple dozen helium balloons. Except, those cost money.
    • While I was down in my storage unit looking for skewers and sticks and bringing back down Halloween decorations, I found a box that something had spilled all over inside of. The box was filled with cards and memorable newspapers, and pictures too. Not to mention my Mary-Kate and Ashley video games and dolls. Those have more or less survived though, thank god.
  7. Watching too much TV
    • I got rid of my TV for a reason, and things were fine then. No, that is a lie, things weren’t necessarily better but at least I didn’t have a TV. Now I watch TV and I’m having a hard time figuring how much is normal and how much is the line of me turning into a sack of potatoes.

Making lists makes me feel better. I will stop crying now.