Better By Nightfall

The phone rings, it's dark
and you want to talk
and I am here

The story repeats, it's 8:49
and you want to talk
and I am here...
because I'm supposed to be

I've been thinking about next year a lot lately, mainly because it seems to be a topic that keeps resurfacing for various reasons during random intervals of stress and space.

Originally I was thinking about next year because I wanted to go to Japan during my junior year to extend my Japanese Minor education and finally become fluent in the language. I wanted to spend at least a semester there to experience life in Japan before I decided to continue on there under the JET Program after graduating college. I admit, too, that at the beginning of this year part of me wanted to leave to Japan next year because I felt like I needed to be somewhere else next year. I chalk this up to the nomadic soul I've obtained from being a dependent in the military and moving every three to four years.

But, that's where original thinking for next year left me. I hadn't really thought about anything else in the works for next year until these last two weeks when things around the apartment started getting somewhat strange. I admit that this is just my perception of events, but it seems like everyone here is somewhat divided on what I now dub: "The Politics of Stress and Space."

Everyone goes through stress and everyone needs their own space, but the real question is: When is it too much?

Apparently this question has been stretched here as of late. Everyone has been stressed out about a number of things. Lacey has been stressing about credits for next semester and the apartment not being clean; Barton has been stressing out about his job and school work (at times); I've been stressing out about next semester, debate, and a plethora of other things...Including what Lacey believes is the male version of PMS (minus certain bodily functions that come attached with that prescription); and Brad, well, he doesn't really stress because he doesn't really care...about anything...really.

Obviously we've all been at ends with stress and it can really pile on at times. When it does, we all vie for space to breathe, to escape, to think, to not think, to just break the stress down. However, when does the space become too much that it almost feels like abandonment? When does it make the others around you feel like you're not connected to them?

As of right now, I can't really answer that question. I know that Barton has been giving Lacey and I(?) space by hanging out with Joe and Bunya. I know Brad is hardly ever here, so we have space enough from him...minus the stench from the dishes not being done, the trash not being taken out, and the apartment rarely being cleaned by him (because Lacey and I have clean the kitchen/apartment area more than anyone else here). Lacey gives adequate space when she's busy or senses that someone needs space. As for me, I'm confused on these politics of space. I'm not sure if I'm giving space or just ignoring the others because I'm worrying about myself, or doing nothing at all.

As such, it's made for a mess of how everyone feels about everyone else in the apartment. Although, there is a growing consensus that Brad needs to clean and, yes, douche. And yet, he was the one who I thought would be the variable in this apartment. However, it has come to my attention that we are all variable to stress and space. Because of our stress and give and take of space, we've all separated ourselves from one another at times. This can, of course, be good when it is needed. I'm certainly not complaining about the space I need when I'm not in a good mood. However, I'm concerned that the space between may actually be too much at times. And it might just be me. It seems that I spend most of my time with Lacey, rarely any time with Barton (aside from debate class and tournaments), and almost no time with Brad. Granted, part of this can be attributed to class schedules and the fact that Barton and Brad work. Yet, it is those times when no one is working or in class, when we're all here, that I sense there is too much space. Sure, we might be working on homework or playing video games or, as crazy as it sounds, listening to the news on the election...but it's not together.

Now, I'm not preaching the old Barney and Freinds motto of "I love you, you love me...", but rather just being together as friends and going to the movies, talking, et cetera every now and then. We really haven't done that this year, and when we have it's always been with other people to the point that it almost seems like a division of friendships. Kind of like being on different islands, but in the same general area. We're together, but we're not.

So, maybe I'm reading into it too much?

Maybe, but the fact that Barton was talking about moving into an apartment next year with Joe and Bunya kind of struck a nerve. I know he feels that Lacey and I are abandoning him in our absence next year...but there is no certainty that I'm going to be gone for the whole year, or even at all. While I originally talked about going to Japan for at least a semester, possibly a year, it isn't set it stone. My parents are in agreement of my extended study in Japan, but they want to know the monetary values attached before anything becomes solidified. (I have yet to set up an appointment with the International Study Abroad Coordinator too.) As such, the fact that he was talking about the apartments for next year and leaving me out kind of perplexed me. I've never said I was going to Japan for sure for the whole year or even at all. I have said that I'd like to go and that I'm planning on it, but it's not certain. It's funny, I know it's not even a big issue and it's melodramatic to write a lengthy post about it, but it all goes back to the afore mentioned politics and, I'm sure, various other alternate causalities. Still, it boils down to the question I have yet to answer: Is there too much space or is there a perceived division in the making?

---

Learn about the JET Program
The World Factbook: Japan

Tips on How to Deal with your Roommate.
Take a quiz on doing the dishes

Want Barney?
Sing along with Barney (I'm not crazy!)

Random: A recent picture of ME

Let's cause a scene, clap our hands and stomp our feet or something, yeah something...I just gotta get myself over me. -- The Format :: The First Single (You Know Me)

Well, needless to say it was an eventful weekend. While I was more than nervous and in a state of serious uncertainty, I managed to have a great weekend in Tacoma. Our team placed first in sweepstakes with a grand total of 236 points, killing the other competition. I also managed to help contribute points to that total this time! I broke in my Informative Speech event and was the fifth finalist out of 13! Yay for hardware!

Other than that, I learned a lot about some of our teammates--possibly more than I needed to know about some of them. Aside from the snoring from our roommate in the hotel, John, it was a good weekend and I'm glad I got through it and enjoyed the rollercoaster ride that it was.

Talk about a sudden rush of anxiety. Tonight I felt like everything was crashing down on me and, even now, I'm wondering why and how to soothe it so it doesn't affect me later. I'm not sure, but I think it's the combination of class scheduling and this weekends debate tournament. Maybe it is too much?

I don't know if I can take it...

Holy goodness! I've been eating food like it's the end of the world. These last two weeks have been my most ravenous yet. As such, these last to weeks shall be known as "Josephina's Wrath" as I've managed to eat nearly $70 dollars worth of groceries away.

I know, that's A LOT of groceries. Most of it was Easy Mac, Ramen, and some salads...and now most of it is gone. It just amazes me how much of a hunger streak I've been running. I know my body is growing and that, because of swimming and aerobic activity, I'm eating more to keep the calorie intake up, but that's still a lot of food that should've lasted longer.

Today, for example, I had: A bowl of cereal, 4 glasses of milk, 2 cups of tea, 2 Easy Macs, 1 Hot Pocket, 1 Salad, 1 Apple with caramel Dip, half a bag of Chips, at least 9 of Barton's Mom's delicious and moist cookies, and some skittles.

I don't know what that sounds like to every one else, but that certainly sounds like a lot of food to me. Is it just a hunger streak fueling my growth or am I just a ravenous freak trying to engulf everything around me?

I think I need to work out more...

Damn you, Josephina, damn you!

The world is really on fire and it appears that, as Americans, all we care about is ourselves and our election. It's horrific, really.

The WHO has reported that 70,000 people have died in Darfur since March when the Janjaweed reportedly killed thousands of innocent people because the government of Sudan instructed it to do so. So far there has been little to no real press coverage on what can clearly be labeled "genocide" of innocents in Sudan. With aid failing for the thousands of refugees displaced on the Chad-Sudan border, it's only a matter of time before many more will die without anyone to help them. The UN hasn't done enough, and the U.S. isn't doing anything.

It disgusts me that one of the ugliest civil wars of all time is going on, but because of our impending election and our worries about Iraq, our nation hasn't done anything to stop it or help the innocent people being killed by the Janjaweed and disease daily. The news doesn't report it enough and there's not enough being done.

It has to make you wonder what matters most in the minds of America: being a greedy super-power or being the nation we used to known for--the beacon of freedom and hope?

---

Get involved! Have a say about where your tax dollars go

Visit Sarah Mclachlan's website
Watch Sarah Mclachlan's "World on Fire"

While it isn't over yet, I can certainly say that this month has not been a point of light in my life this year. In fact, I think October has been the worst month I've experienced this year and it doesn't look like it's going to get any better.

Between classes starting to crunch my time with more work and midterms, my worries with Japanese, my friend Steven getting kicked out of his house, my car being broken, my sweatshirt getting stolen, feeling slightly depressed during random intervals of the month, and a plethora of other issues...

I just want something to be positive about, but right now there isn't anything. The only shining moment of this month was the Switchfoot Concert that Lacey and I attended last Wednesday. It was fun, and I needed the relief. Yet, I still feel like there are all these things I have to do, I need to do. All these things that buy my time, these things that worry me. Staying positive isn't the prescription this time, I need to find a way to break it all down. I just haven't found out how.

Perhaps it's just me or the cyclical nature of life.

I'm not saying that I'm going to try being more optimistic, but I will hold out in hopes that the rest of this month gets better. Else, there is nothing to hold on to.

Earlier this evening I found out that my good friend Steven was kicked out of his house by his psycho father. Fortunately for him, Vickie dropped everything she was doing and drove to his house to help him get his stuff and get out, but the real issue lies in where he's going to stay.

In many ways I wonder if this is partially my fault. Earlier this summer I told Steven I could and would drive him to his college in Southern Idaho since I was led to believe his parents weren't willing to help him out at all. When I first got back to Idaho, I initially took care of my self and got settled in my new apartment with my roommates and let things slide for a while. Steven had called for and asked me to take him to his college, but I was extremely busy those weekends he did call. I probably could've dropped everything and headed down there, but I didn't. Instead I attended my Gamma Beta Phi meetings, did homework, and worked on my debate speeches and research. Finally, two weeks later, I got some free time on my schedule and I was planning on taking Steven to his college. The Monday of that week I started my car to drop something off at the post office, but something was wrong. My car began to heat up gradually and I could smell a sulfur-gasoline smell seeping through the air vents and the hood of the car. Needless to say, I didn't drive it anywhere.

After consulting my Dad, we decided it was best to take it to the local radiator shop I took it to last year when my car went crazy on me. Feeling bad about all the delays and not being able to get him to his college, I offered to buy him a greyhound bus ticket to his college, but he refused both times. So, I just let it go. Due to some delays and then a tournament the week after and then being busy again, I ended up getting my car checked yesterday. According to the owner of the local radiator shop, my car's problem lies in the carburetor and possibly the air filter. Both of which I'll have to get replaced soon. Obviously, there was no way I could've driven down to Steven and then to his college without risking my life, and, possibly, his.

Still, all of it somehow led to him getting kicked out of his house. While I don't feel responsible for the atmosphere that caused the problems that eventually lead to him getting kicked out, I feel like I could've done more. Part of me says "If I would've just went down there that weekend, this wouldn't have happened!" The other part of me says "Hey, wait, this was bound to happen eventually. You saw it last August when his Dad went psycho and threw a frozen chicken into the wall because he was pissed that Steven was still living there."

Regardless, I feel horrible inside. I look at how his fucked-up verbally and physically abusive Dad forced Steven to leave and how his weak and needy Mother refused to really help him or put a stop to her husband's malicious behavior led to him getting kicked out. Granted, Steven played a role in it himself. He didn't really work to actually get the college stuff done on time so he could go. I pushed him to do it all last year and he slacked off. And, In this sense I don't feel bad for him because I was there and I did help him to the best of my ability. Still, I feel such sympathy for him because he has it so much harder than I do. In my case, my parents are supporting me financially through college as long as I continue to work my ass off for scholarships, they're not asking much from me, and, most importantly, they love me.

Perhaps this is why it hurts to hear and imagine Steven being on his own. I've never understood, until now, how bad some people have it. I always assumed that most parents supported their children because they wanted them to do better than they ever did. Obviously this isn't the case for everyone. I guess I was just incredibly naive. As much as I'd like to believe that Steven is better off away from his parents, I'm worried that he won't make it on his own in the long run. While I'm trying to support him as best as possible now, I'm worried that anything I can do will not be enough for him, and that scares me.

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. - Carl Gustav Jung


Jung is by far the most spiritually in-tuned psychologist ever to grace the planet. His theories and thoughts on life are unique. If you don't know who he is or his thoughts and theories, check out the link through his name.

Remember how I was talking about going to bed early to get enough sleep? Yeah, well, my body awoke at 5:09AM today to let me know that it likes my new plan of action.

I woke up late today and missed my Japanese class. Morning classes just aren't my thing. If there is a class before 10:00 on my schedule, chances are it will be the one I miss the most. I don't know what it is with me and not being able to wake up early, but I just can't. It's a miracle that I haven't missed more of my Japanese class, really.

Some might attribute this to my crazy sleeping schedule, the one where I stay up until two, sometimes three, doing homework or watching television. Then trying to wake up early on only five to six hours of sleep. Some might attribute it to the mass amounts of caffeine I drink during the day, especially since I practically proclaimed I was a caffeine God last year, but in actuality, those mass amounts have been limited to a weekly Venti or Grande Toffee Nut Latte from Starbucks on Tuesday's. It usually runs dead around 3:40 during my Energy for society class where I have to either find a way to make a jokes out of the lecture or buy a coke to stay awake through it. However, given that I don't consume caffeine everyday, I find this explanation to be somewhat misleading. I think the real reason I can't get up early is centered around something else.

Don't get me wrong, I love Japanese. If I didn't, I would've dropped the class a long time ago. However, the class itself isn't the problem. As I mentioned before, it's the professor. I respect him, and I enjoy the class with him, but because the way things are set up in his class I don't feel like there's a real need to be there unless it's a test or quiz day (which happen every Thursday). Without a real sense of purpose, my mind tells my body "Yo! It's ok to get the extra sleep, you aren't missing that much." Even though I might very well be missing a big chunk of something that might appear on the test/quiz. As such, I haven't missed a single Thursday, but I have missed a Monday and a Tuesday (not during the same week).

The odd thing is that I never missed a day of work this summer no matter how late I went to bed. One night I went to bed around 4:30 and still woke up at 6:30 to take a shower. I was exhausted, granted, but I still went to work with a cup of joe in hand and without any real worries. I would always survive these sleep deprived days, and I wasn't always saturated in all things caffeinated.

The difference?

A sense of purpose. I felt like I needed to be at work every day by that time or else there would serious repercussions for my actions. With classes here at college I know my grade will be hurt slightly, but nothing else is really affected. I think that's why I miss some classes. I somehow attach purpose and value to a class. I value all my classes highly, as I love to learn and grow. Purpose, however, varies greatly between classes because not all of them have a purpose OR I don't sense their dire purpose. The latter being a very bad mind set to have.

Having said that, I think I need to find some good things in the class that allow me to attach a higher purpose to it. Once I can do that, I'll probably be able to get out of bed and go to class without too many problems.

Of course, good sleep is always something I should maintain...even though the college atmosphere sometimes doesn't permit it as easily.

In a box under my bed
I've kept them safe from all the world
And every one wished upon in some way
But that never works out


Burning bright then burning out
Disappear and then fall down
Are they special, or just broken?
Dying or moving on?


Am I always wrong?
Did you see it?
There's another one right there
And it's falling
'Cause it's finished being a star
Can you feel it?
Does it mean as much to you?
Honestly...can you feel it?


Am I that wrong?
Is it me every time?
Show me how to take this
As you go on and on.....


Thanks for the words, Dithy!

I'm not sure if it's a mood swing or my music, but lately I've been doubting myself more than usual. I don't usually doubt myself, mind you, except in a round of roshambo with a seven-year-old. Honestly though, I don't know what's making me feel like I can't pull through my Japanese class. Besides the "amazing" grade I got on my last test--the one that I would consider a atomic bomb on all my academic success in that class this semester--I can't figure out a real objective reason for my doubt.

Last year I never doubted my abilities in my Japanese class. I was always ready for the tests and quizzes, not necessarily because I knew the material, but because I was confident that I would do well no matter what. My former sensei, French-sensei, always made us review the material over and over again, making sure we regurgitated it to the point where we understood it. I remember thinking it was a tedious tax on my time to constantly review the old material from previous weeks classes, but because of it I knew I would do well when quiz and test time came around.

This year, however, the poison of doubt has managed to strike at me. Sure, it coursed throughout my veins, but it never managed to paralyze me--until now. I can honestly say that I don't feel comfortable in my Japanese class this year. Sure, I may know the material to an extent, but I'm not confident in my knowledge. I don't feel like I have the backing in it that I once had. Part of this is due the extended break from using the language this summer, but the other part falls onto my current sensei. While Ehara-sensei is a nice guy, his structure and schedule for understanding the next level of Japanese isn't as well planned or review-oriented as French-sensei's was. I didn't really care that they were different until a few weeks ago when the tide of quizzes and tests finally hit my shore with a torrential force that could rival any hurricane. Obviously, it's hard to understand what I'm saying if you don't have the class. Basically put, the weekly quiz/tests are annoying me because of the point values they have and the fact that fucking up one of the tests not only rapes you, it rapes your grade.

And still, I hear a voice reminding me to breathe and move on. I am breathing, I am moving. I'm trying to adapt, but it's led me to doubt. In my doubt I've grown agitated, annoyed, and weak. I'm not dwelling here, but it's hard to move when you feel you've lost the momentum, the motivation to continue on.

Remember to breathe, and everything will be okay....

Perhaps, but holding my breath might alleviate the pain sooner.

A taste for irony has kept more hearts from breaking than a sense of humor for it takes irony to appreciate the joke which is on oneself -- Jessamyn West

What can I say?

Dashboard Confessional
A Mark, A Misson, A Brand, A Scar

Carve your heart out yourself
Hopelessness is your cell
Since you've drawn out these lines
Are you protected from trying times?

Man it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she has
Lord it takes a lonely one to wish that she had never dreamt at all
Oh Lord, now, there you go with hope again
Oh, you're so sure I'll be leaving in the end

Dig a ditch deep enough
To keep you clear of the sun
You've been burned more than once
You don't think much of trust

Man it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she has
Lord it takes a lonely one to wish that she had never dreamt at all
Oh Lord, now, there you go with hope again
But I'll be sure your secret is safe with me
Oh, you're so sure I'll be leaving in the end
Treating me like I'm already gone

But I'm not, I will stay where you are always
I will stay, I will stay, I will stay (all of now)
[repeat to fade out]

There's a thick signature-saturated book on my shelf that, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I carried with me to college last year and still have in my close possession. It details pieces of my past in segments divided by numbers, themes, and pictures with clever descriptions of times so separated from now that I don't even recognize their depth. A name to face, a description to a situation. What value does this book hold in the long run? Is its purpose to remind us of "the good ol' days" that have long since past or the memories that we long to forget.

I look at these signatures of fabricated friendship and falsified warmth and concern and wonder why all of this mattered? Was there even a point to half of these friendships, these relationships of worthlessness? There wasn't. They served their purpose during the time they were needed and then they faded. They met some sort of divide from this side or that side and it was over. Almost meaninglessly so.

It's a point of emptiness I'd like to address. A point that I've tried to let reject, but have learned to embrace instead. It's a point on a power rooted in choice. It is voiced and voiceless. Powerful, nonetheless.

Goodbye.

A common closing becoming a permanent bidding to the end. The only word that flashes feverishly in my head when I see this book, sort through the pages, and close it again--wishing it were the last time. But it won't be. The emotions fused in the pages still bleed fully, wholly unto me whenever I see them.

But this time, I realize, it's time to let all of that go. Not to start a new, not to renew forgeries now forgotten.

No.

Rather, time to say goodbye to the past instead of holding onto it as a goodbye. To remember the past in terms of what was and not the connotations attached to it. To grow up, move on, and live in the now.

The fragments will fade and the core, remain. Shifting to something, even the slightest, positive away from the pain.

Letting these pages bleed dry and giving this one last goodbye.