“People are always telling me that change is good. But all that means is that something you didn't want to happen has happened.”

--Meg Ryan

No no no nononono, I'm losing it! I'm losing the words that danced from my brain not ten minutes ago, fresh from the shower.
I'm so tired. I'm so tired of making up blogposts in my head and discarding them when I come to this page. I'm just too tired of the person I have become.
...Aha, it comes back.

...

Back when I was a prolific blogger, I used to scoff at those writers who would keep a blog for a while, only to abandon it. I had contempt for those who did it to seek attention, and had no endurance when they got nothing. I sighed for those with interesting lives and beautiful writing, who gave me a tantalizing glimpse into it, only to trail off...
Looking back to my first post, I did not have high hopes for my own blog, but halfway into this shindig, I realized I had so much to say and why would I ever stop?
Alas, readers, I have. I have become one of those who I despised. It's been a hearty two months since I've blogged, and while I visit this page daily for my blogroll(and wince at the hubris that is my last post), I have made no move to pick up what I once did. Until now.
The semester is at an end, and I have found myself unchanged throughout it, despite promising to at the beginning, and all it does it dredge up some sludge of hate, betrayal, regret, and frustration against myself. This sludgy monster lives in the sea of my mind and gets caught on the hooks of memories on its way out, and as it drags these fishing lines of recollections through the city of my brain, I'm forced to think...
A high school friend at the same college as I has mentioned, more than a couple times, that I've changed. I roll my eyes for the statement of the obvious. Everyone changes, right? Change, you know, the only constant. But I've stopped to think, is this change really that neutral of an entity? I mean, looking back on who I 'was,' I like being her. I liked how she wrote, how studious she was. I like the grades she got and her abounding creativity. I read old posts in wonderment at the girl who could write like this, and thought like this. I liked her a lot.
Who am I now? Heh. Well. I suppose I am very different. And I've found myself to regret not being who I am any more. Not to say I hate who I am now...although I do dislike some parts of myself, but I regret not hanging on to me.
So, what happened in the year between my last semester in high school to my first semester in college that changed me so completely, lead me to stumble the way I have into who I am now?
I think the answer to that tumbled out of my mouth a few weeks ago.
"What's the point?"
Readers, up until now I have not been very personal (and yet also quite personal) before on this blog. Partially because this is the Big (Bad) Internet, but also because while I will answer any question you ask up front and honestly, I am also warily protective of my privacy. Not even just warily, I'm just a dragon hoarding my own, and other people's secrets. So for me to type this...I don't even know any more.
Anyway, I screwed up my senior year. My college apps were not...eh. They just weren't. So come March, disappointment was shoved through the mailbox. And while I didn't fall into depression, I think, at that point, I sort of gave up.
I reasoned to myself that throughout high school I had done everything to the best of my abilities and achievements, and it didn't get me where I wanted.
So what's the point?
If I wasn't 'destined' where I wanted to be, or meant to go where I wanted to go, then there was no force (my force) that would change that. I had already given my all, to a disappointing result. There was no point in trying, in excelling, if in the end it got me nowhere.
And I think, from there, I just let myself go, and ceased to try, perhaps even self-sabotaged. And so I've fallen, quite willingly, and unpainfully, to the state I am now. It's going back to who I am that's going to be painful and difficult.
SO what am I saying, reader? Am I going to to the American way and celebrate my holidays ahead of schedule?
Damn right I am. My New Year's Resolution, even before Chanakwanzamas has passed, is to once more be who I was.
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At this point I am reminded of a blog snippet I concocted as I walked back to the dorms after I failed a final...

I used to be so puzzled at students who did poorly in class. Couldn't they see the merits of doing well? Couldn't they see that it really wasn't that hard? How could they tolerate that grade?
Well.
I am on that side of the spectrum now, and I can answer those questions. Mostly, I realize that I don't like it here.
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"Self-destruction is the effect of cowardice in the highest extreme." --Daniel Defoe

And I shall begin here.
Not when, but where.