This summer did not go exactly according to plan. It was fine up until the middle of July, when my kidneys all of a sudden decided that they hated me and wanted me to die, but after that point, everything sort of fell apart. I've never experienced anything quite like that before, where you're so wrapped up in the thing that's going wrong inside you that you just can't muster the energy to answer the phone, let alone go out and be friendly. There were times this summer when even answering a text message seemed too much. Having your organs revolt really turns your attention inward. I have a new appreciation for why Jeremy was such an ass for all those months; when you feel like that, you just want to be left alone, for people to understand that you're sick, dammit, you can't handle being social right now. But then I feel guilty, because I recognize how very lucky I am to have the awesome friends I have, and there's only so long people can tolerate that kind of behavior and still remain your friend. But I just wanted to put it out there that it wasn't intentional, and I ignored pretty much everybody equally. I even ended up not going to the Hush Sound/Cab show, which was supposed to be the highlight of my summer, that's how horrible I felt.
I am trying to grow up this semester, in all senses of the word. I'm accepting certain truths, including the one about me deserving better than what I've received from the boys I've dated. I'm cooking dinner every night and balancing my own checkbook . I'm getting all my work done early enough in the week that I can take Sunday off, and I'm not partying every night. I'm exercising (when I'm not feeling nauseous, anyway), and making sure I take my vitamins every morning.
I've also had to come to terms with the fact that my dream of doing something in the music industry has to die. It's time to grow up. I'm twenty-three, not nineteen, and if I'm honest with myself, I was never really going to be that girl. So it's time to be realistic about things, and recognize that when I finish Grad school, I'm going to get a real job and have a real life, and I'm going to be okay with that. Music is always going to be a vital part of my life, but I can't structure my life around it any more. Which is painful to have to admit. I actually thought it would hurt more, to be honest, the day the expiration date came on my childhood dreams. But the truth is, it's okay, because now there's so much more in my life than just those dreams. It's easier knowing that so many of my friends are going through this at the same time and making the same decisions - Cade quit the band, Jon's gone off to work as a sound-guy, Ryan's going back to school. It's the time for quarter-life crises, and we're trying to be thoughtful in our choices. I'm not going to treat this like all the rest of my relationships and cling to it long after it's died; I love music wholeheartedly, but I'm meant for something else.
There's still a tiny, redheaded man in Chicago that owns my heart, though. Every damn time, Patrick gets to me, despite politics, mediocre lyrics, and Pete. Folie a Deux is going to be awesome, and I don't even care what that says about me.
What I'm Listening to: "I'm Actual" by the Format