Happy

Today I’m happy. And for as much as it fills me up and pours in puddles upon the ground wherever I step, I’m somewhat surprised by how unbridled and brimming I am. It’s like the sun rose inside me and now shines its brilliant rays through my pores–endless light everywhere I look.

Yesterday was a long day. I slept late, missed my tutoring session (even after running across campus in the April heat to try to make up for it), and when I got home, my bedroom light had died. Thankfully I’ve got a bedside lamp I was able to use, but it wasn’t nearly bright enough to keep me conscious and focused.

So when I went to bed, I didn’t have much happiness to hold onto.

Then: this morning, my alarm set for 10:30, I woke up at 7:30. I expected to feel terrible if I got out of bed, and knowing I had time, I rolled over and tried to sleep some more. It worked only partially, and within an hour or two I was out of bed–but despite fewer than six hour of sleep, I felt vibrantly awake–vivaciously alive.

I spent some time doing a few yoga asanas (since I exercised last night with a run and some push-ups every so often down the line) and then I did some graphic design stuff for the mere fun of it and organized a list of things I’ve got to get done today. I’m right where I need to stand to finish up the semester, except I’m a fair bit behind on my research paper–which is on a topic I love, so why I’m procrastinating, I just can’t say.

But when I left my room this morning, I just felt overflowing. I played some music and sang my way to lunch, then sang my way to class. I haven’t stopped smiling. Not one moment. Well, I might have frowned a bit when I saw the 75 I got on my last math test, but with my professor’s adjusted grading scale, it’s still a B, so I’ve still got something to smile about, don’t I? I just need to study more and do better on the final, that’s all.

Back to my room, I studied another Duolingo lesson–I’m about two behind where I’d like to be before I leave, but I can catch up in the airport if I have to–and then I got to other work: I even took a five minute break to call on Representative Ellmers to sign on as a cosponsor for ENDA, the Employment Non-Discrimination Act that will grant federal workplace protection to the LGBT community, and trust me, it felt great.

The smallest things, you know?

Only a few days ago I was writhing in stress–piles of homework, unmanageable amounts of reading and research, the terrifying excitement of meeting my boyfriend–but today, all that anxiety is gone. I got to speak with a trusted counselor on Thursday, I got to visit with friends yesterday, and all the while I’ve got to talk with him–the love just bubbling up between the syllables of every word we share. I’ve given up counting the days until I see him–now I’m counting the hours, the hours so slowly yet swiftly disappearing into minutes.

Today I’m happy. I’m overflowing with joy and jubilation. And I’m thankful–because I’m not the only one responsible: all the people who teach me, who guide me, who love me and care for me–they’re why I’m happy.

And it’s an amazing feeling.

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Zero Measure

I haven’t been sleeping well since I got back from Alaska. The time change was easy heading west: All I had to do was stay up late. Coming east wasn’t as easy–it feels like midnight at four in the morning. So today’s fiasco actually began last night: I didn’t get to sleep till five. In the morning.

So waking up at nine? Didn’t happen. Ten? Not even then.

And it only got worse from there.

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Rock Bottom

One year ago I was in the study room around the corner from my apartment working math problems at the white board after midnight. It was a month into the semester and I was three weeks behind. After talking with a graduate TA who put it simply–“If you’re not passionate about doing the homework, is this the right major for you?”–I turned my organization on its head and had spent the entire weekend getting myself caught up.

And I was almost there. I felt great.

I wiped the board free of my algebra, sprawled letters about groups and how they commute and associate, and I stacked my notebooks and my markers and went back to my room. But the night was nowhere near over.

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Eleven Days and Counting

There are still 111 days until the semester ends and already I feel defeated.

I’m scouring my mind for words to elaborate, but that line seems to say everything I can muster at the moment. I came in anxious, and the first week assuaged some of my stress; then things picked up a little in the second week, and though I can honestly say I’ve had a few great accomplishments and some greater experiences since the semester began only eleven days ago, I sit here with the sad realization I already feel defeated.

Where did I go wrong? When did my plans fall apart?

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The Point of Privilege

That’s not me.

We hear stories of privilege and think of old white men in suits sipping on drinks at the bar in their kitchen–but it looks like a real bar, it’s just that big. We think of privilege and we think of CEOs and politicians, those the media has deemed corrupt–might as well toss in a few celebrities, just for for kicks. We say the word privilege and the first thing inevitably to cross our minds is this three-word phrase.

That’s not me.

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As the Summer Draws to an End

It’s been no secret my summer is unusually short this year, and as such, it’s been no secret how hard I’ve had to push myself to complete not only my manageable goals for the year but also my stretch goals for the summer.

Although it’s hard to realize (and harder to say), this is my last monthly goal report before my summer shrivels up and leaves me in the midst of an extraordinarily busy semester.

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Summer Slumps and Success

Despite all the progress I’m making on my goals, lately I’ve felt apathetic and angry. I have little more than a month left of my summer, and it feels like all I’m doing right now is menial and meaningless. I know that isn’t true, and if I weren’t being so moody I’d be exceptionally proud of my accomplishments this last month, but in the meantime, I’m just tired and cranky.

But the important part is that I don’t give up. It’s been about a month since I last evaluated my goals, and it’s time I do so again to get things moving once more. I’m ready when you are.

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Born Again

Today marks a special anniversary more so than just the start of another year: It’s also the third birthday of this blog–and as I sat drafting my goals for 2013, I found my blogging featured prominently. However, this is not the only birthday I’d like to celebrate today: I’d like to celebrate mine, and yours, and everyone’s.

When the year begins anew, so do we–and with this ethereal rebirth, we are able to do away with our old selves and promise to move a step closer toward the ideal we’ve always aspired to become. This heavenly image will certainly change over the years (and certainly already has), and as we draw closer to its general shape the edges become clearer and there is always one more step between us, but the impossible attainability of this end is not what matters–only making progress defines us in the end.

As this new year begins, I invite you to join me as I try to take the next step to becoming my ideal being. May we become each other’s witnesses on this journey, holding us each to our goals, and in this time, may we also become greater friends.

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Onward to New Adventures

In two days the month will change from October to November when the clock strikes midnight and National Novel Writing Month will begin–and it’ll also be time for me to re-evaluate my goals for another month. November is oft a time of intense chaos, and not just because of NaNoWriMo, so I figured I’d cheat fate and make this early as opposed to late.

I’ll begin at square one: My goals for this month.

I’ll get to the nasties of NaNo after that.

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Waking Up to Ruins

I cannot count how many times in the last week I have remarked that I wish I could have slept in longer. I cannot count how many times I’ve heard friends laud their schedules when they don’t have any classes that begin before ten in the morning. And, yes, I have some friends that sleep well into the afternoon–and on some days, I do, too.

It’s all for an obvious reason: Sleep is a good thing.

But maybe it’s not.

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