Interesting entry at last.

Live your life just like a dream without the pain of goodbyes.

I've decided that I'm never going to share anything ever again. Not thoughts, opinions, feelings, cake slices (not that I ever shared those in the first place), or things I love. I will be wholly selfish when it comes to my passions. If I find a band I like, I will keep them to myself, because it's sharing news about bands that ruins things that are "mine" like Fall Out Boy, and hopefully LBC eventually. If I love a restaurant, no longer shall I take my friends to experience it! I will keep the knowledge of the delightful atmosphere, charming ambiance, and delectable food to myself, so that no one can scoff or counterdict me. There's nothing more hurtful than having someone you care about be entirely disinterested in something you love. Now I know how middle school teachers feel.

For anyone who is concerned about my life and limb, I leave for the land of Auschwitz and Chicago's main supply of construction laborers in less than a month. People keep asking me why on earth I want to go to Poland, and my triumphant yell of "back to the motherland!" never seems to satisfy them. I think we all need some sense of history in order to fulfill our silly need of cosmic purpose, and getting a glimpse of the country where perhaps more than half of my bloodline can call "home" seems important for some reason. Teaching English to a people whose language I speak literally 5 words of ("mówimy po polsku" and "Nazywam sie Cathi") is somewhat secondary to the mere act of setting foot on Polish soil. I shall have to curb the urge to start barking orders in Geramn, just to see how many people drop whatever they are doing and surrender to me.

Disappointment is a funny thing. Sometimes it crushes your soul in a vice-like grip administered by a piercing glare, and other times you feel sorry, but not too sorry, because becoming consistantly better at golf is not necessarily your fault.

Nevermind,
Cathi

Life thus far

Today is the devil's day, allegedly. It is also Cathi's day to talk about her life. My life. I always get caught in that 3rd person trap and I'm never sure when to stop. Usually explicit discussion of my life is saved for my actual journal or discussions with good friends, but sometimes frank discussion in a self-centered, public forum is called for as well.

Because I'm most comfortable with lists, that's what this shall be. A Cathi List Of Her Life. Part One. Go.

School
As of tomorrow, I'll be officially done with school until September, which is a huge relief. I enjoyed my classes, I just lost all motivation to do work back in January. I'm worried about my grades, mostly due to said lack of motivation. I'm seriously concerned about whether or not I achieved over a 3.0 for the term, and that rings utterly false with who I am. I'm a high B, low A student, and I should always, always do at least that well. I think I just need a swift kick in the ass.

Money
I hate money. I hate the fact that I have to rely on money. I like having money, but I hate it all the same. The problem lately is that I don't have it. I need to save up money to go to Poland which I don't even have adequate aid for, I need to get a good enough job so I can save up money and keep money flowing so I can afford to move out in August, I need to save up money to go to Berlin in the winter. I neglected to turn in my financial aid forms by the due date, and so I'm worried sick that I won't get enough aid for school next year. I have so much that I want to do and not enough money to do it. I hate it, and I don't know what to do about it.

Apartment
Tomorrow I go to a showing for 4 apartments, one of which is a 3 bedroom being rented for $550 a month. Holy crap, I know. Brian wants to live in Chicago, and so do I, but if we can't find a decent apartment for cheap enough, it's stupid for me to live so far away from school. I know my dad probably doesn't approve of me living with a guy, and I know that no matter where Brian and I find to rent, neither of my parents will approve of the neighborhood. Unless it's in Wrigleyville or Lincoln Park, it's not a good neighborhood, and if we want to live cheaply, we'll have to live in a questionable one. I'm fine with it, and so is Brian, probably. I just wish there was a way to convince my mom and dad that things will be okay.

Dairy Queen
I hate my boss. I've always thought Rich was a giant douchebag, but lately he's been unreasonably mean to me. When I called to propose a solution to me desperately needing to find a replacement for my shift tomorrow, he called back to say "You know, this is why nothing ever gets done up there. You're always so concerned with getting your next day off. I don't have time to deal with this bullshit." I don't know what would possess him to say those things, and it's not fair and it's not something I deserve to deal with. I went job hunting today, and hopefully in the near future I'll be a waitress somewhere fun and won't have to deal with his bullshit anymore.

Alex
For such an unexpected relationship, things are going surprisingly well. Amazingly well. Worrisomely well. I'm almost living in constant fear of screwing this wonderful thing in my life up. Other than my family, Alex is the one thing in my life that isn't stressing me out, and is actually, in fact, keeping me sane. I'm finding it difficult to balance my precious free time between wanting to spend it all with him, and not neglecting my beautiful friends. I've never been in a relationship that was so real, and so good, and I'm more grateful for that than I know how to express, really. Here's to hoping I don't subconsciously try to sabatoge this, as I tend to do in most other areas of my life.

That's about all, I think. Thanks for paying attention, or not. Thanks for putting up with me, at the very least. Until next rant:

yahoo!
Cathi

ramblebramble

Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?
Never looked better, and you can't stand it.

At times I find it impossible to understand why people do the things they do, and at others I find I understand them perfectly.

All rants begin with an observation. "Haven't you noticed?" Every conversation we have is based upon universal connections. We have a mutual understanding of human nature, of love or tragedy, of frustration or simple joys. I understand as well that these words, spit out from frantic fingertips in a fishbowl, have no effect on you, the reader whom I cater to whether or not you actually exist unless you have a general idea of what I'm trying to convey.

Today the theme is connection. Or not. Perhaps the theme is chaos, but letting you in on that secret would ruin the impact of the confusion that would set in halfway through this entry when I begin to ramble about meanacing squirrels and Cubs wins (an irrational number). I think I'm just going a little crazy, but honestly, who isn't? I guess we could hope that the Germans remain sane at all times. Look out, Austria.

Yep, looks like chaos is on the ticket. Isn't it facinating how so many random things result in the sum of our lives? Playing the "what if" game can be fun, at times. What if Linda had been aborted due to a tumor that posed as a dead baby? What if I concentrated on school more? What if I never applied to work at Dairy Queen? What if I never joined speech team? So many questions, never any right answers.

I'm hungry. Taco Bell will fix this in the short term, but I think I'll need an adrenaline shot to the heart of "work ethic" to fix it for long term. I have a lot of dreams, Berlin, radio, Chicago, family, travel, concerts, but it will be very difficult for these things to come to pass if I never buckle down and do a homework assignment or two.

Ramble ramble. Three cookies to whomever made sense of this. Let me know, so I can actually bake the cookies, or at least buy them in convenient Keebler form with the money I peddle from upper middle class tools.

Panic! At the Cathi,
'Thrine.

Group dynamics

It's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.

Group dynamics facinate me. The "mob mentality" that grips each and every single person when put in social situations is astounding. A person can be completely decent, thoughtful, and rational one-on-one, yet when placed in a group situation become the epitome of everything wrong with the world.

We see this at parties where some people become more outgoing, louder, or perhaps more belligerant, picking fights with people in moving cars when that is not something they normally would have done. We see it when guys get together and the guy who has a distaste for alcohol suddenly begins to brag about every alcoholic encounter he's had, comparing the effects of whiskey to vodka. We see it with girls who travel in packs, and the one who commonly gets mistaken for a boy gushes about her love for "passion pink" nail polish.

Perhaps we are all ruled by stereotypes, and the fact that Linda and her friends talked about whether they or their sisters would get married first is just them conforming on a subconscious level to how girls are supposed to act. Or perhaps stereotypes truly have ground in reality, and when the group of 15 year old boys moon us unsuspecting DQ employees, it's because that is really how 15 year old boys act.

On a different note, I am again reminded about how much petty worries suck, espeically when they are out of my control. I'm just a bit concerned that if I don't get these worries straightened out, it will eventually result in an argument that shouldn't have to happen.

I haven't been this happy in a really long time, but I also haven't been this stressed out, either. I can't have everything, I suppose.

Member's area,
Cathi

Person 9

If it felt right, would you want me to know?

9.

This will be the first and last time I ever say anything meaningful to you via the internet.

Why? Because I worry about the fact that we haven't really had a "serious" conversation. Maybe one or two, which are good starts. I don't want us to only be able to communicate (ah, girl-words) online. I know that sort of thing is hard for you, it's hard for me too, and I hope I'm not remiss in thinking I'm one of those people who you're afraid to open up to because you actually care about what they think.

That said: You are a wonderful person and you make me very, very happy. I know you think you're dull, and even though I don't think so, that's fine. I'll make you interesting while you keep me sane. We've agreed upon how we're opposites, how you're everything that I am not: quiet, creative, reasonable, healthy, diverse. I just wish we could talk. We smile at each other a lot, and we even ask "...what?" but neither of us ever respond. Maybe it's because in the moment I can't find the words to articulate how happy I am, how I feel like I don't deserve you and how goddamn lucky I am to have you sitting there, smiling back at me.

So now that you know, maybe next time you ask "what?" I'll actually tell you what I'm thinking.

Misc

Cathi's Thoughts of the Week Not Involving Personal Dilemmas

Is anyone else tired of hearing arguments from foreign criminals and closed-minded hicks about immigration reform? I don't know what the laws are, what the process is, or what life is like in other countries. I just wish that our immigration policy would let more people in more easily so that we wouldn't have this problem.

I am also tired of celebrities. I'm sad that, as I sit here watching my first episode of Dawson's Creek ever, as I see Katie Holmes running across a campus all I can think of is "how can she love a loony like Tom Cruise?" I want them to stay out of my informational magazines and off my evening news. I think it would be refreshing if the world simply let them do their jobs like normal people.

Rain makes me sad on the level that I can't go outside and be active, but makes me rather happy on the level that Dairy Queen will be slow and easy. Warm weather inspires visions of tank tops and flip flops, swim suits and tans, and the ever growing "oh my God look at my body" anxiety. My goals of preserving cash and my girlish figure by ceasing my almost daily fast-food intake has been successful thus far. We'll see.

I don't understand guys, and I probably never will. I make no secret of that. It's a little frustrating sometimes having to play guessing-games with things I should say/do/think in regard to pretty much any man in my life. I also don't understand when boys become guys and guys become men. I hear news reports about "man arrested for being despicable human being" and said "man" is 19 or 20 years old.

Little kids are the cutest and I want to kidnap them all. At least the cute ones. I'll give them away once they're 10 years old because then they become little punks.

Schoolin,
Cathi

spring time

It's like a last chance for a first dance

It's a little crazy and refreshing how brushes with death, even when they are not your own, tend to put things in perspective and how sometimes, although rarely, they reaffirm that you've made good choices.

I'm just glad he came out alive and (mostly) unscathed.

I sometimes wish things were more simple, that everything lay in terms of black and white so that we never had to be indecisive about anything. I also wish that feelings wern't so painful and that brains were a little less logical. I wish that people, myself included, could always say what they were thinking and feeling without fear of repercussion so that things could actually get done in this world.

A certain friend's actions and my consequent reaction completely shattered whatever illusion I had myself under, so I'm back to square one, flailing, falling, wishing there was an easy way to erase things from my mind, Eternal Sunshine style. Perhaps a few brick wall head-butts will do the trick. It might make me feel better, anyway.

Springtime brings allergies and the plague, lovers and reckless driving, good times with good friends and lots of stressful school work. All hail the MayFlowers.

Hard liquid girls,
thrine