It's Only Love

My parents are becoming more and more restrictive when it comes to going out with my friends, and the stringency of their rules is inversely proportional to my wanting to leave. I love my parents, I really do, but can't they understand that I can accept some responsibility? And that the fact my room is cluttered doesn't necessarily mean I'll flunk out of college? And that it is possible to go out more than once per weekend? I know why they're clinging to me more as my senior year passes by; I'm not entirely looking forward to leaving the home where I've for the most part felt safe and happy. But my family life doesn't have to come at the expense of my social life, does it?

Do you ever have the feeling that someone's attracted to you, and you're kind of attracted to them, too, but the relationship's going nowhere because neither of you is saying anything? Maybe I should be content to just let things happen, to enjoy each stage of any relationship, to enter it by degrees. But I'm far too impatient. I feel constantly full of anticipation, but sometimes I don't know what I'm waiting for. I look forward for days to something exciting (like the creative writing field trip, or Harry Potter, or Thanksgiving), and then it comes and goes and I realize I still have a stream of days stretching out before me, endless at least practically. Will I ever be satisfied?

At least I've found a diversion to keep quiz bowl Saturdays halfway interesting: ogling hot guys. There is no shortage of them on other teams. I know I am very shallow, and I know this pastime encourages endless teasing from the boys on my own team, but it really does lighten the monotony. And this monotony desperately needs lightening. I don't know how I can stand the months that lie ahead, except to tell myself that this is the last time I'll have to deal with it. (It being a code word for the Greeninator, a name I've just now decided to call her.) Much as I'd like to see people again, I flat-out refuse to come back to coach a B team or moderate at the frosh-soph tournament. I declare it here and now. You readers of this blog must hold me to it, no matter how my strength wavers. I will not be the next Melanie. I just won't deal with that crap once I've left Auburn behind. Oh, and I won't go visit her if and when I come back to Auburn (if the Academy is even still there). Bandy and Melanie can swallow their misgivings and be nice people. I just won't.

Also, I vowed this earlier this year, but I'm renewing it today because it helped me decide between books at the library: I will never waste my time on a book just because it's something I should read, something that will make me look smarter or that I want to use to impress someone. I'm going to read Nick Hornby and David Sedaris. And have a wonderful time doing so.