Lately I've been noticing more in photos that I look like my mom, especially in the eyes. A few years ago someone told me that I'm beginning to look more like her. My hands also look exactly like her's did. When I first noticed this, I sat and stared at them for a long while. I wish my mom were here so that I could talk to her, because we'd have a lot of crazy things to discuss. I feel sad sometimes that I don't know what her reaction or advice would be to me. I guess I can only imagine what she would say.
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Remember sunbursts? I did one last night. I must really need some therapy/escape from thinking right now. I had my Crayola markers out from using them on a project for class over the weekend. I noticed them on my desk, took them out of the package, chose colors, grabbed a sheet of paper, and just did this for 20 minutes last night without even thinking about it. It turned out neat, I think. Tonight I reluctantly attended a meeting for the Deaf Redbirds Association, a student organization at ISU. I have to "immerse" myself in the culture and really get to know the student group for one of my classes this semester. I chose DRA because I know nothing about the deaf culture and thought it might be important since I work in Disability Concerns. Plus, it interests me. I totally was overthinking this meeting... naturally. I was really worried that I would have to introduce myself, which would obviously prove difficult since I don't know ASL. It was not what I had anticipate
An update on the binder situation: I got an email back from Carrie (house mom in Cambridge), who I had left the binder with and who was going to take it to the DRC to see it off from the post. She apologized profusely about it, which made me feel bad because it wasn't her fault at all. She admitted that sometimes people in the DRC are "awkward, especially [insert name of individual who I suspect purposefully did this],"which I believe means that the only person who is awkward is that person. . Anywho... she thinks that I should email John (supervisor at Cambridge) and explain what happened, but I'm kind of over it at this point and realize that not much can be done. I think Carrie is going to try to gather the bits that were missing and perhaps find the actual binder and send it to me. That would be nice, but I'm not getting my hopes up about it. Oh well. I just started reading the book Traveling with Pomegranates last night because I received it in
I wonder why it's so difficult to make new, real friends. (Note the old, real friends above. Love them.) It takes so much effort to really get to know people. I thought at some point that this would end. Even now, at this age, it seems like people are still wrapped up in trying to impress each other and outdo one another. I have been over that for years. I want to get to know people, but I just can't muster up the energy for something that feels extremely fake. All I want is real conversation and friends that won't move on to the next person once they find someone who is more entertaining. Is that too much to ask?
I never thought a binder would mean so much to me. Today I received mail from the University of Cambridge! I was so excited about it! My excitement quickly vanished into confusion, frustration, and sadness when I realized that it wasn't the entire binder I had put together during my time there this summer. From what I saw, all they sent back to me were some of the materials that I used to do my research. All of the extra things that I had accumulated about the university weren't there, nor was the actual binder. I'm wondering why this happened. The reason I didn't just take it home with me in my luggage was my concern that my bags would be too heavy. Carrie was happy to take the binder back to the DRC; she was sure that the DRC would be happy send it back to the U.S. for me since I worked there for free. I said there was no rush--if it arrived in six weeks it didn't matter. So here it is... eight weeks later and I get not even half of what I had put together