I’m 24 today! And can happily say that I am in a much better place now than I was 1 year ago.
I will refrain from complaining about how “old” I’m getting, because I will for sure look back at this post in a year and wish I was still 24;) yay, happy birthday to me.
The super oversimplified order of events in life goes something like this: you play, you go to school, you get married, you have kids.
I grew up taking care of 2 kids. The age difference between me and D & J led to more of a parent-child relationship than a sister-brother one. Then for 7 years, I was never not in a serious, stable relationship.
And now, I’m in school again. But if you know me, you know that I’m really just sitting around, eating candy all day like a child.
Today, after 2.5 months of work that culminated into an 8.5-sized font, 1 page document, I spent an hour cutting a synopsis down to 100 words for the ISMRM submission.
How convenient that I practice writing blog entries that are < 100 words. (Ref: my first entry).
I think I’ve focused on something so specific for so long that I’ve lost knowledge in other areas. My common sense has deteriorated. But, the weight’s lifted off my shoulders -for the time being. I feel light (though I’m actually probably heavier because of all the stress eating)…it’s gonna be a good weekend.
I only remember crying twice in high school. Once after a 3-hour tennis match that I lost, and once after I found out my ex had started dating someone else.
Now, I sometimes tear up when watching cheesy sitcoms.
I also remember that the only thing I wanted in life at that point, more than anything in the world, was to get into Penn.
I have no idea what I want now, or what I’m doing, or why I’m here (though I think that may have to do with my infatuation with NYC and cities in general).
What happened?
Today, life was like, “I don’t think you have enough shit to deal with. I think you’re too happy, Alicia. So here’s a (metaphorical) punch in the chest and a (literal) inflamed pinky (random, I know, almost laughable, but it’s just painful enough to distract you when you’re typing). Go waste some time in the hospital and feel sad. Oh and by the way, your program still isn’t working in lab and your PI probably isn’t too happy. You’ve got two weeks to get some tangible results. Not so happy anymore ARE YOU?”
I think every person in your life rubs off on you a bit.
For example, say you meet an artist. Perhaps you’re then momentarily pulled into their world, and can suddenly see why a canvas of solid black paint is considered modern art. Or, you meet someone who’s had their heart shattered, thus shattering your naïve and idealistic views, opening your mind to a whole new world of negativity. A little overdramatic, but point is, people define other people.
Supposedly, everything happens for a reason. I’m still trying to figure this one out.
I just watched Penn 2011’s commencement, and I swear, it’s JUST sinking in that I’m an alum.
Denzel mentioned hemo’s and bui’s and the magic meatball, and I wanted to cry. I miss undergrad so, so much. Even though grad school is fun enough, with the drinking every weekend (and weekday, since Wednesday is the new Friday), it will never be the same again.
I love Manhattan and I love my friends here but AHHH what I would give to go back and relive those 4 years.
You know how sometimes the best friendships are formed as a result of being miserable together?
That is, after all, the idea behind fraternities and sororities. It’s silly if you think about it, because life is already difficult enough, without pledge masters imposing even more obstacles to get you to bond with your so-called sisters and brothers. Nevertheless, it works. I’ve been there, done that.
So I’m thinking, on the bright side, maybe after all this is over and done with, I’ll end up with a really good friend? Maybe that’s why I had to go through all this shit.
Throughout preschool and elementary school, my dad would make me and Kerry breakfast every day. I remember it vividly because it was always the same. Toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich, one half for each of us, and milk.
Went grocery shopping with a friend yesterday, and as we browsed the PB&J aisle, I told her about how I couldn’t eat PB&J sandwiches for years, because I was so sick of eating them for breakfast every day growing up.
I bought some anyway on a whim, and made myself (half) a PB&J sandwich this morning. It tasted like pure happiness.
I can’t handle being upset on my own, so I always vent to everyone I can think of. As patient and understanding as my friends are, I’m sure they’re getting sick of my crying.
So I always end up calling Kerry, because she’s forced to listen to me. (One of the disadvantages of being my sister). I wish I could just lie in bed by myself and feel better, but I can’t. I need someone to pick me up after falling.
Thank god for K D and J. They’re here to save me.
