Generational

I was considering typing up another long post about my thoughts on my body, but instead I'm pissed off at the extremely slow rate of travel being used to deliver my Reader. It's ridiculous that it took two days to make it from New York to Illinois. I really should have shilled out the extra cash and paid for better shipping. The postal service is faster than this. And would have cost less.

Huff!

See, this is what I meant when I said it was a really bad idea to let me see the shipping status of my package. Now I'm just going to constantly critique it. And now I'm also worried that it might get in a car accident, or drive off a cliff or something, and then I'll never get my Sony Reader. What if the truck is leaky, and it drives through a storm, and the box gets soaked? That would be horrible! Or there are like, cowboys on horses chasing down the truck to steal its contents... An airplane could be shooting at it this very moment. You never know with these things!

I need to start packing stuff to go to college with. But I really don't want to. I hated packing to move into a different house; but this time I'm moving into someplace much smaller. Picking and choosing what things are actually worth keeping. Sticking it all in boxes, filing it away. Feeling guilty if you pack up just one piece of crap--And I was in the fourth grade last time. I'm almost positive I'll hate it more now that I'm older. Not to mention that it's not just picking what stuff to take with me, it's the stuff to leave behind. If I leave this hat behind, will mom and dad understand its value to me, or will they throw it out? How do I explain to them that when I was saving that sandwich for later it didn't occur to me that I still wouldn't want it four years later?

I'm not quite ready to leave my childish things behind.

When I chose to go to Montana State, I was thinking about where I wanted to be educated. In all seriousness, the only thing on my mind was what I'd be able to do academically. I didn't fully realize until recently that going someplace means leaving someplace. It's always been natural for me to go to a school that is out of district in an attempt to stay with my friends. I did it for elementary school and high school, and thank God I didn't have to do it in junior high. It was always very important to me that I go to school with all of my friends, even though I very rarely ended up in a class with someone I knew, nonetheless someone I would call a friend. So now, out of nowhere, I've decided I want to go to a school that is far away from all of the people I care about (except grandma. Oddly enough, I'm moving closer to my grandma).

This is what was depressing me yesterday, by the way. The fact that I'm leaving all of my friends and family behind. Up until this past year, I've always seen myself as a really solitary person that was destined to become a hermit. I don't like people very much, and often times they scare the Hell outta me. But I realized that I've become very attached to the ones that I do like, and I can't imagine living without them. I realized this too damn late, though, and didn't squeeze all of the enjoyable experiences out of them that I could have. Now I'm leaving, and it's weird to think that I'll never see some of these people again.

I suppose this is apart of growing up, though. You leave behind your childish things, your childhood friends, and your childish thoughts. You replace them with serious responsibilities, mature friends, and what I'm expecting will be the sense of loss of freedom. I just really don't want this yet.