Trustworthiness...ish.

I don't know why I trust some people. I would like to believe that they are "friends." Friends are... hard for me. I don't make many. I'm reserved, and I'm busy. I don't slow down for very many people, and when I do, they'd better be worth it.

I've learned that most people are bipolar in how much they like me. Some days, we laugh. We have fun. We get along swimmingly. Then, on other days, like this one, they completely flip out when I stand up for myself and say "no."

I'm easily bullied and pushed around. I guilt myself into saying "yes" to anything and everything. I'm too nice to say "no," to say when enough is enough, and to have a spine. Most people take advantage of that. I can name on just a few fingers the people that have NOT done that to me in my life.

Sadly, most of them are recent additions to my friend pool. Don't misunderstand, the noobs are great. They are some of the best. But, it shows that I've been, thus far, sadly unable to tell the difference between a real friend and an asshole.

I used to believe that saying "yes" all the time would get me somewhere. It would make me more friends, it would make me more likable, it would get me promoted. Instead, all it has done is make me tired. I tend to overbook myself, and then turn into a giant flake when push comes to shove. I make plans and say "yes," and then I cancel so I can crash on my couch and be a potato. Then, commence with profuse apologizing. It's not the best way to make or keep good relationships alive, but it's the only way I've learned to do it so far. Now, more often than not, I just feel guilty. And tired. Exhaustively guilty.

This journey to self discovery has been difficult, but it means that I'm going to need to straighten out my back bone, and use it every once in awhile. Welcome to real life, Kate. Time to be a big girl.

A New Year, A New Beginning... Of Sorts

Let the anxiety attacks begin. Seriously.

All of my grad school apps are submitted, and now all I can do is wait.

But, instead of freaking out, I'm focusing my energy on a few things:

1) This damn t-shirt rug I never finished. I need to work out the kinks so I can sell the damn things.

2) Tarot cards. I have a few sketches, and some shots lined up, but nothing is solid yet.

3) The gym. Yes, this sounds like a horrible resolution, but I actually enjoy exercise. I like the elliptical. I like the sauna. If it wasn't so cold out, I would go running. I need to find more things to do inside, that don't involve re-runs of Invader Zim and YouTube.

4) Writing consistently. Daily, even. I did a lot of personal journaling for a long time, hand written. It was the most therapeutic thing I've done for myself, and I need to continue it.

More than that, I need to start doing some creative writing, to get the juices flowing. I'm tired of reading books where some angsty girl has a shitty life until some man with no personality shows up to save her, and their personalities combine to make one big mass of "boring!" I'm tired of the most interesting thing about these boys being the fact that they are vampires, werewolves, immortals, fallen angels, incubi, or some other totally-hot-but-unrealistic supernatural being. Yes, I get it, vampires are sexy. Werewolves bring out that animalistic side of you. But there has to be something other than fangs that turns you on, right? How about humor, sarcasm, honesty, smarts, optimism? These are qualities we fall for in real life. I'm all about young adult literature, because I thinks it's a huge turning point in a reader's life. You don't want boring academic stuff yet, but you don't want The Babysitter's Club, either. You don't want teens with shoe fetishes, and you don't want stupid things about shopping and the Jersey Shore. The people I know that read Young Adult Fiction are incredibly intelligent, worldly, creative, and ever-changing. They are versatile, and curious. Shouldn't their literature be, too? Shouldn't we respect the minds of the 20-somethings like myself? Yes, I can handle reading literary criticism and the like. Sometimes, I even enjoy it. But, more often than not, reading for me is an escape. It's getting lost in world that may be unlike mine, but is still relatable. I want to find something in my literature that reflects myself, my peers, my struggles. My struggles to BE a 20-something. My struggles to be independent, but scared. My struggles to have an adult relationship with my parents, and most of all, with myself. My struggle to find myself, trust myself, and be self-reliant. My struggles to have standards in dating, and in friendships. To say no, when I have to, but may not want to. My struggles to learn about life-after-undergrad. Surely, someone else out there wants to read these things? With a little lust, a little sex, a little mystery, and a little supernatural, otherworldly element?

I don't know, friends, maybe I'm asking for too much of writers. But, literature like this is the reason I respect Charlaine Harris far more than I respect Stephanie Meyer. They both wrote series about vampires, and werewolves, and one girl caught in the middle. But Sookie Stackhouse is a strong southern woman with a shotgun and a woman who won't stop fighting for anything she wants or believes in. Bella Swan, however, is free to let her being be overrun by a vamp and a wolf. I don't know. Maybe I just want to be Sookie far more than I want to be Bella. Her life seems more fun, and less... angsty.

Other than this rant, there is nothing much to report. Strange things are happening in the world. God is working in mysterious ways these days, especially in my world. The Republicans have a majority, which frightens me, but not the way it used to. Don't Ask, Don't Tell was lifted, which is strange considering the Republican majority. It gives me faith in humanity again. I lost it, for so long. I made bad friend decisions, and was stuck in a loop of gloom and doom, where everything was a struggle, and everything was something to fight against. It was tiring, and I'm ready to see the world in a better light.