Operation: Normal

The world didn't end. I'm still here, and she believed me without a second thought.

Last night, at my new member sleepover that involved very little sleep, a lot of confessions were made. In particular, this one girl--my sister, I suppose--opened up to me about her low self-estteem. She told me about her twin who apparently is the "prettier twin". She told me she's never been asked out on a date. And it was like she opened up apart of herself to me.

I feel like somebody opens up to me at least once a week; they share a secret or a struggle or just a piece of themselves that you can't tell just by looking at a person. 

The art of baring one's soul is an art that I can't seem to master. For being a writer, the act of telling someone anything personal becomes an immense struggle. If only I could write everything down ahead of time. I wish that was my main medium of communication. But I guess that's mellow dramatic.

Roughly five minutes ago, Annelise told me about her bad experience with getting blackout drunk and how that made her feel. I won't go into detail because I'm sure she wouldn't care for me to publish her drunken mistakes to the internet. But, I'm thinking: what if I did the same? What if I turned to her right now and said, "Annelise, I was raped."   

back 2 Mays ago when

flowers

didn’t bloom. And it wasn’t okay.

But you make it okay with water and sunlight and

love.

Love?

No, no there was no love.

The flower’s dead now,

wilted in itself—

slow & steady pedals drifted, floated

down down down

and roots dried up.

There is no love; that flower

was one of a kind.

How could I have let it die,

in a dark hotel room,

with squeaky springs

Really, all things considered, I'm doing okay in my first five weeks as a college student. I'm actually getting somewhat into the "swing of things". It doesn't really feel like summer camp, anymore. That's definite progress for Operation: Normal. 

I've made friends. Something I was so terrified about came a little easier than I predicted. There isn't anyone I can confide in or talk to when I do have those moments. There's one girl, but I'm still not totally sure she would ditch me for personal gain. And at the same time, I don't want to burden someone with my issue while I'm here. I tried to do that with Jon and that was totally awful. 

Classes are alright. I'm still attempting my high school study habits--not the best idea. The next couple tests I have will probably put an end to that. 

all the porno spam on tumblr right now.

My first night out at the bars was somewhat successful, I suppose. How do you gage success on things like that? I puked. Success.

The thing to do here is to go the bars. First off, walked BY MYSELF to the Library. I never had to show my ID here, so score and pretty much just drank beer and played quarters with sisters/friends/acquaintances (whatever you call them). 

But I followed girls I actually know to Dublins--not as chill. This is where you dance. And I like dancing but at the same time crowds make me nervous, and typically the two go hand in hand. Again, stuck to my girls and beer and holy shit the bathrooms are more or less gross. 

Then some girl--god, can't remember her name--was like, "this is (also can't remember his name), dance with him" and I get shoved at this guy to grind like its fucking prom all over again. When I turned around, I saw that he kind of looked like a tall-skinny version of that kid Beans from Even Stevens.  

I do like dancing believe it or not. I still have a sense of control over it--I can walk away, I'm around people, and everybody's clothes are on. It's actually kind of refreshing to release any stray sexual tension (as minimal as that is right now) through dancing. Thing is, it ends at dancing for me. 

My second day as a sorority girl. It's so thrilling.

I'm still a little unsure about it all. But I want to be okay with--conflicting feelings. Yesterday was overwhelming. All the screaming (of excitement), smiling, meeting new people and being plopped in the middle of this huge group of women.

Joining a sorority in a lot of ways is really just one big leap of faith. Collectively I only spent two hours and twenty five minutes with these women over the course of three days. How do we know each other well enough to already have the bond of sisterhood thrust upon us? I might be over-thinking it because yesterday (although exhausting) was still fun at parts. There was that contagious excitement and being caught up in the moment of happiness was a nice relief. But I'm not happy, really. So that's all it was--a moment. Then I had a different kind of moment at night, kind of freaked out and called Mom from my car. She talked to me, and then told me that my sister is a completely different person. The girl who used to be so terrified of social interaction she avoided it at all cost and keep to herself. Mom said she's happy and confident and comfortable with herself. It's like we've swapped places. That used to be me to some degree. I'm happy for my sister because she deserves to live a good life.

I want to write about recruitment because it certainly was an interesting experience. It isn't quite the "relaxed" environment the Recruitment Counselors try to make it sound, but it wasn't the intense beauty/popularity contest that the movies make it out to be (I'm thinking more specifically of the ABC Family show "Greek"). It felt like some random point between the two. Recruitment is about selling yourself more than anything else; they say it it's a "mutual" selection process but I don't see anything mutual about how in the end if you don't get a bid that's totally up to them.

There's is most definitely a scrub house. Does it make me an awful person for not wanting to go back there?

I'm not really thinking about the houses right now, though. God motherfuckin damn it. 

Not to sound too much like a broken record, but I don't like rape jokes and I sure as hell don't know how to respond to them. And what if someone I like makes a joke about it? Can I still like a person who makes a joke about that? And at what point do I stand up? Sometimes it feels like I've made absolutely no progress. I'm as big of a push over as I've always been. 

This girl also told me tonight--rather randomly--that she was "almost raped". I'm not sure what that means, and I also didn't know how to react to that. 

I've been away from homes for almost three weeks now, and I already want to go back. It isn't Drake's (the school, not the singer) fault. In fact, the school is amazing. The campus is easy to figure out and nice. The dorms are very clean and up to date. My classes are all interesting (my first sociology paper was over whether or not I thought the U.S. should legalize pot). And there are plenty of activities to get involved in.

Tonight at the activities fair I put my name on--

1. Society of Professional Journalist 2. Women's Ultimate Frisbee 3. Writer's Circle 4. Students for Women's Interest (they were giving out chocolate vaginas) 5. DrakeMag 6. the independent DrakeMag

College is just one big extra-curricular activity after another. Everyone tells you, "Get involved. Get involved. Get involved." And maybe that's the answer. Maybe I want to go home because I'm not really "involved" yet.

I'm trying really hard to focus on the good things or even on the potential of good things, but it's hard. Most of the time, I feel disconnected. Or like I'm in a play. Making friends in college is like being an undercover spy. Or what I imagine being an undercover spy would feel like--attempting to give off the appearance of nonchalance but constantly on your toes. 

And fuck, I'm just going to say it. I hate when people joke about rape. 

"I just raped you man." "Essentially, you're getting raped." "Don't get raped." "She's rape-able."

It's especially depressing and disheartening to look back at the past year and a half of your life and look at the tangle mess of lies you created. I wonder what life would've been like if I had just been honest--to just one person. I finally told Paige about "it". After my parents found out, my mom asked, "Did Paige know?" I said no. And she said, "I'm sorry because I thought you were close to Paige then you had been to anyone." 

I guess I was. Then why couldn't I tell her? What would the last year and half had been like if I had? I don't know. That's a stupid question to ask--the "what if" questions always are. And I shouldn't focus on those "what if" questions anymore. I should focus on taking care of myself, making my life here. I have this new life, and I don't have to create any mess of lies. I can be honest. 

But lying, I found, is so much easier. Lying kept the people I love ignorant and happy. Although in the long run, I think I hurt my parents. I don't know if I hurt Paige. Our conversation was over the phone and not the best one to have. I'm not even sure what possessed me to do it; I was just feeling so utterly alone. 

It scares me because part of the reason I didn't tell her right away was because our friendship was still somewhat new (to me anyways). Yet, as we grew closer, the basis of our friendship was more or less me lying. One of the closest friendships I've had was filled with lies. That scares the shit out of me.