Caught a Bus?

I never bother to keep up with my blog. But I often look and search back through it to see who I was at the time or where I stood.

At LOT has been going on. I'm finally moved into Santa Cruz. Finally seeing more about this long distance relationship business. It's good and bag and good again. Or some such.

And the most exciting of all...

I'm at a real college. If I could I would give the "real" part in neon lights with shine.

And as much as I wish I could say, for my dignity and in defense of community college, that it was the same and equally difficult... It's really really not.

Obviously the major I've chosen isn't going to be easy for myself. And the classes aren't going to be these little larks in the park. But I think for right now, I'm mostly dealing with the intense level of intimidation. I'm much more scared and doubtful than I am confident. I feel like an 18 or 17 year old freshman has that blissful confidence. I had it too once. As I heard once, "infuriatingly sure of themselves." Once I was able to believe in myself easier, simply as a gift of age. And this confidence allows them to take, head on, the things that are coming right at them.

But I can't. I feel like I second guess myself too often. I feel like I am often too humble when I should be pushing my way through to be noticed. That's something I've learned over the years that I never understood before, and in no way do I feel like it is wisdom. But more it's a sort of baggage. But I've learned this anxiety to kee myself invisible. I've learned to be so afraid of sounding like an idiot, that I'mmush more idiotic inmy silence. I have developed problems articulating my thoughts or feelings. And that is very much an hinderance. While it was ok to take the middle rows in community college, it isn't anymore. And while it was ok to not take myself seriously in community college, it isn't anymore.

And I have SO many readings. and such STRONG urges to be napping. and...

I do get homesick. Well, maybe not sick-sick, like I used to in LA. If there was a misery scale and killing myself was number 10. and being only slightly unhappy was 1. and 5 was moderately depressed.

In LA I was a 9. In Santa Cruz I'm a 2, possibly 3.

But I go home often enough to keep it in the low range. Things that I miss?

having a passenger side mirror. hah. hah. hah. not funny yet. really.