I'm So (Home) Sick

WARNING: Serious whining ahead. I wasn't even going to post this, but I haven't finished a post since I left Hawaii and I wanted to assure you that I'm still alive. Mostly. Read at your own risk.

I now understand why people live in their parent's basement all their lives.

Why would they leave? Why would you go away from people who love you and walk out into a world that gives you weird looks and treats you like every other person on the street? Why would you leave when you don't have to worry about how to best work things out with your roommates, what you should by at the store, and where your checks were sent? When you were comfortable and happy?

My parents say that they don't really remember saying goodbye to their family or their first couple days at college. I'm putting mine down on record: It stinks. It stinks worse than anything else. Ever since I gave my little sister that last hug I've felt hollowed out inside. I'm constantly fighting back tears. My voice sounds thick and there are these hideous, painful bags under my eyes. And even though I'm sitting here on my bed crying, my mom can't give me a hug. And she isn't going to be able to for another four months and fifteen days. No matter who else gives me a hug, it won't be the same thing at all. I hate this.

I know what my dad would say if he were here. He'd say, "Why aren't you watching that movie with your sociology class? Why aren't you going down and talking to those guys who are blasting music from their truck (as long as they're not return missionaries, because you're not allowed to talk to them)? I told you not to just sit in your room and do homework and watch Korean dramas and Doctor Who."

And he did. He told me. And I probably should have stayed up on campus to watch that movie with my class. But I was hungry, I didn't want to have to pay for food, I didn't know if it would be dark by the time we finished, and I didn't want to walk for forty minutes. And I probably should go talk to the girls who are yelling downstairs, who came in place of the music-blasting guys. I should. And maybe even could.

But I don't feel like I can. My hair isn't washed, I'm in a PE shirt and shorts, and face is all swollen up. That would be OK. I could wash my hair, change into something else and wash my face. But I don't think that I could talk to them without crying. I haven't really been able to talk to anyone today without crying. I don't even want to talk to the people passing under my window. I feel no interest in them. No sense of kindred-spiritness. I'm sure they're nice, but I don't know them. And after growing up in a town where you never have to talk to anyone you don't know, I wouldn't be comfortable with them. And all I want right now is to be comfortable. All I want is to get hugs from my family, to sleep in my bed back home, to run down to Katie's house, and complain to Sister Handcock, and make bread in my oven. And for my mom to hold me and tell me everything is alright, and that she loves me, and that I can do it.

That's it. I'm transferring back to Hawaii. There is no way I can do this for a whole year. I'd live in my parents basement if they had one, but since they don't I'll content myself with sharing Mei's room.

I probably won't. I'll probably end up liking it here, meeting friends, growing up, learning about myself and the world in general. Probably. At some point. But tonight I'm by myself and I can't think of any good solution.

Over.

I Cannot Go To School Today (Again)

(Marissa)

I woke up today and the light was already seeping under my curtains. I laid there for a while and felt guilty about waiting for my mom to come wake me up for seminary when I knew it was time. When I finally did get up I walked about half way down the hall and met my mom who informed me that I was staying home from seminary and school today. I went promptly back to bed and stayed there for an hour and a half.

Bless the mothers of the world.

My mom was tired of her family being sick, so she sentenced us all to a sick day. Ever since the cultural celebration my dad, Mei and I have been lazing around with various symptoms. Headaches. Throataches (it should be a word). Stomachaches. Heartaches. Any aches that will get us out of being functioning human beings, those are the aches we have.

Around this time of year, with finals approaching, months of studying behind me and the looming idea of Christmas shopping ahead, my body and mind have this annual conversation that varies only slightly from year to year.

Mind: We need to go talk to the people at my school's office about why four semesters of Chinese have somehow not managed to get onto my transcript, memorize Mozart's Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, which is getting truly annoying, and write three essays.

Body: I don't wanna.

Mind: We have to! If you don't apply for college you won't get into college and if you don't get into college then you'll never get a good job and if you don't get a good job then you'll have to work at McDonald's and then you'll eat their caramel sundae every day and get really fat.

Body: I don't care.

Mind: You should! I care. Come on. We're going.

Body: You act like you have the last word on this. Watch. Watch this. I'm just going to get sick. Now what are you going to do. Huh? Huh?

The conversation deteriorates from there. I'll spare you the worst of it. In any case, the argument generally ends with Mind pushing Body for several weeks and Body crashing at the end of it in retaliation. This usually comes around Christmas, but the cultural celebration knocked me over the edge early this year and here I sit in my flannel pajama bottoms, trying to six weeks in China into two hundred words for the admission's office.

Even just doing that my body is rebelling. It takes me several hours to get anything done. I sit there, waiting for inspiration to strike, for energy to appear, for my mind to clear, but no. Waiting does not help. I'd like to just be sick without having to do anything, but I'm either too responsible to let the opportunity be wasted, or too much of a slacker to ever be that far ahead.

Over.

I Cannot Go To School Today

(Marissa)

Oh, wait, there is no school, is there? Good. Because I'm sick. That and it's still summer and I don't believe in summer school. Kind of like I don't believe in summer homework. And yet I have another two hours worth waiting for me....

I've been neglecting you again. You're awfully easy to neglect.  

I don't mean that in a bad way. You're just not at all demanding. I post something, smile, walk away, and then occasionally think something along the lines of I should post. Then I don't, because there isn't a whole lot to say and it isn't going to ruin anyone's day or my GPA if I continue reading, writing, swimming, or whatever other verb I might be occupied with. Days pass. And eventually I drag myself back to the keyboard and make myself try and be clever. I'm telling you now, today it won't work.

If you're getting discouraged about this blog, fear not. While the possibility of me getting less flaky is not great, Katie should be back tomorrow, so soon you'll have two teenager heads to rely on instead of one.

Girls camp started today. And I am not there. Because I have contracted I Cannot Go To School Today--that sickness where you have an occasional fever and just generally feel lousy but stay relatively painless so long as you're on the couch for every eight out of ten minutes. Due to the dreaded ICGTST I am not at camp today and may, or may not be tomorrow.The good news is that I'll have a lot more time to blog. The bad news is I'll have nothing to blog about.

I'll be honest and say that my heart is not exactly breaking about not going to camp. This is probably the a result of childhood trauma, inclination towards solitude, dislike of high-riding hormones and a fact that I know from experience: I am not a nice person when fed on a solid diet of spam, s'mores and smoked Starbursts, especially when that menu is accompanied by less than eight hours of sleep.

This year I was really working on looking forward to girls camp, though. I am a laurel, YCL, leader. I have responsibility. I have earplugs. I have a little sister I would die for, so surely I could get enthusiastic about girls camp for her. I had gotten most of complaining about camp out of the way before I got there (Sorry, Sister Handcock and Sister Blimes). I was prepared.

But then Mei and I both got sick-and I was spared the necessity of working up excitement and using my earplugs. I consider this to be a happy ending.

I'm going to blame my slacker-ness on my sickness and end the post here, short and picture-less. My apologies and promises that next time I will have something to say, it will be longer and there will be at least one picture involved. I dream big.

Over.