Accepting who I am

Dear Web log readers,

Because I'm about 2.5 weeks from graduation (holy shit!), I've sort of regressed to this state that I was in freshman year: having the whole quarter-life crisis thing. I wonder who am I really? What am I meant to do? What AM I DOING? Where am I going? Etc., etc., etc.

I've never had the attention span to keep a diary before. I'm sure that it's the interactivity of the online world that has my interest. Who knows who could be reading this? Probably no one outside a core group of friends, but still the possibility is thrilling. The last time I had attempted to keep a journal, my only entry was from 10-or-12 year-old me wondering why my parents wouldn't just get divorced already.

Anyhow, today at the buzz, I had an epiphany. Even though I consider myself to be a somewhat self-assured, independent woman, I'm not the the fighter I imagine myself to be. What I mean is, I tried to cultivate this image that I really don't care what other people think of me, and for some periods of time every few years, I actually fool myself into thinking this way. But I really do want acceptance. I don't need constant validation or anything, but sometimes I really need to be inside, not outside the group.

My major frustrates me at times. I didn't work for the buzz until this year, and there were definitely times in the last three years I felt alienated and shut out because everyone in my class knew everybody else from work. (OK, there probably were a lot of others like me but, you'd never realize that when you're feeling alone.) Journalists can be very cliquey, especially the ones who work for publications. Well ... alright the whole world is cliquey, that middle school/high school thing never really goes away. But still, I expect to be treated a certain way. College relationships are so conditional; I figured that once I shared a week of bonding with the kids at work in NYC (who I might add, I've had classes with more than half of them with), that we would be able to talk to each other on the same level. But alas, apparently we were only trip friends, not work friends.

This neediness in my personality bothers me. I make fun of other people for it. Truth is, I need people around to talk to, bounce ideas off of, reassure me that I'm not completely insane. It used to be that my mother could be that person but as much as I love her, I've come to see the limitations in my relationship with her (ah yes, look forward to that exceedingly long posting about socialization). I wonder will I stay friends with my college buddies? Will they get new friends when they go off to grad school, law school, medical school, etc., and forget about me? Will I go insane with only my family for company at home, but further my issues by acting out the same conversations with them over and over?

I don't know. What I know is, I was a happy kid when I lived in a working-class apartment building. I ran wild with the rainbow of neighborhood children (mostly shades of brown, but everyone was on the same level). We were friends no matter what, regardless of our different backgrounds. As our parents got a little bit more money, each family moved away. I was one of the last to go. My parents needed to upgrade from our 2-bedroom apartment to our 3-bedroom house once my brother was born. We saw all these kids chilling in the neighborhood when we were looking at the house; my parents thought I would make friends easily. Somehow, we unknowingly moved into a terribly racist neighborhood. I like that my parents moved to Piper Ct., off of Pleasant Valley and Carefree Dr.; such happy suburban-esque sounding names to mask what I felt like growing up. When I showed up, not only was I the new kid, I was the only brown kid. Thankfully, the scene has changed with a more diverse crowd moving in in the last few years, but from ages 7-14, I was the butt of everybody's jokes.

I don't want to blend in with the crowd, but sometimes, I just want recognition. I hate to be that 7 year-old-girl who the other kids don't want to play with.

Sorry for the heavy, sad rant.

To counteract, things that made me happy today: the sun, the warmth, magnolias and cherry blossoms, a proposed dinner for the final Green Observer meeting, watching an engaging documentary on Red Power in my Native American History class (Alcatraz is Not an Island), receiving my allergy meds in the mail