a face that i hold inside
Twelve in12
Reading
Queen’s Play ~ Dorothy Dunnett
Pride and Prejudice ~ Jane Austen
Uther ~ Jack Whyte
Finished
Mirror, Mirror ~ Gregory Macguire
Witchling ~ Yasmine Galenorn
Changeling ~ Yasmine Galenorn
Something Wicked ~ Catherine Mulvany
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince ~ J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows ~ J.K. Rowling
Myst: Book of Atrus ~ Rand Miller, Robyn Miller and David Wingrove
The Game of Kings ~ Dorothy Dunnett
The Other Boleyn Girl ~ Philippa Gregory
I hate moving. I hate packing up everything into boxes and suitcases, then making it all fit into a car. Maybe its partly my adversion to change. I don’t know. Maybe its because moving has never been easy for me. Although I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone say that moving is easy. As much as I’m looking forward to being in my new place and starting my last year, I wish everything was already set up. I have to unpack and organize and figure out where everything is going to go. Ugh.
What made this job even less desirable is the fact that my cousin, Becca, who was supposed to come and help me, is no longer allowed. She did something irresponsible (in her parents’ eyes) and the punishment was to not be allowed to help me. It pisses me off. It really pisses me off. Because what she did wasn’t that horrible. And it doesn’t just punish her, it punishes me. It almost hurts me more than it hurts her. She’s not allowed to come with me and hang out, helping me move. But its not like she’s grounded and can’t watch TV or play on her computer or hang out with friends here. She just can’t go to Fredonia with me. But for me, I was counting on having that extra pair of hands, that extra body to help carry things into the apartment, to help me carry things up the stairs. Now I have to do all that work on my own. I know its my responsibility and my stuff and all that jazz. But I think about my friends who have moved recently. They had help from friends and family with the physical moving, and some even with the organization and unpacking. The help I received was minimal and completely not planned. I do appreciate the three people who helped me move – but I really did 95% of the work myself. I didn’t want to start this semester the way I started the summer – totally exhausted and stressed. I wanted to have a helper monkey, which is why I had arranged early in the summer for Becca to come with me and help. Now I’m basically fucked. I’m pissed at my cousin and I’m pissed at her parents. The whole situation just completely sucks.
I know I need to let this go and just work hard and get everything done. And I’m about 85% sure I’ll be able to do it all on my own without the help I was counting on. But there’s that pvart of me that remembers what I mess my bedroom was left in, and how much work has to be done before it’s liveable. I’m honestly not sure where I’m going to sleep Thursday night. The beds aren’t set up, and I don’t know that I’ll get to that before I need to sleep.
And it doesn’t help that I’m starting to freak about this semester and my shoulder and grad school decisions and basically trying to figure out my life and not screw up again. I feel like I’m starting to go a little nuts – too many balls in the air and I’m no juggeler.
EDIT: A fav of mine, david., made me think about something regarding my issues with grad school and well… life. I have three different options to me right now that I’m exploring. None of them are guarantees, but I’ve also not really pushed for any one of them. One is grad school for oboe performance, continuing the path I’m on. One is to take a few years and work, trying to save up some money to make grad school more realistic. Another (and the newest one) is to go to seminary for church musicianship. Basically learn how to become a full-time church musician or something along those lines. I’m not sure which decision to make and I’m still exploring those three more indepth to help make a better choice. But there’s a little voice inside me that is pushing the seminary idea. I’ve got a million reasons not to do it – mainly, the timing’s not right. But like John via David reminded me, if you wait for the right time, it will never come. You just have to go and do. So lately I’ve been starting to lean towards that. The problem with all this is actually my father. Like David’s mother, who seems to constantly question his every decision, my father is always pushing and poking holes into every idea I have. I know its not perfect. I know I don’t have all the answers. And yet again, I’m back to being asked to figure out my career path in life. Make decisions and see them all that way through. Even my grandmother doesn’t completely understand.
I want my undergrad degree in oboe performance. I’m still very dedicated to finishing this degree in this major. But does that mean I have to be locked into this career for the rest of my life? I’ve learned a lot and the degree will definitely not go to waste, nor the knowledge and wisdom I’ve gained during my pursuit of this degree. But did I sign a stone contract when I went back to school that I can’t adjust, change, realign my life. I know now that oboe will never be absent in my life. Its too much a part of me, and I will always keep it in my life. But it doens’t have to be the center of my life, right? But there sits my father second-guessing me and making me feel like I’m making the biggest mistake in the world. His biggest question is what job am I going to get when all of this is over. I don’t know the answer to that because I don’t know who will hire me or what the future looks like. I know there are opportunities, but I don’t know every single one of them. So what excatly am I supposed to tell him?
And why can’t I talk to my father like its me? There’s a little act that I put on for him all the time. I’m not sure its a full-blown facade, because the show is real. I do love him and like to watch trains with him. But if he and I have any type of conversation, I have to be so careful about what I say and how I say it, my phrases, my vocabulary. I can’t just talk to him to talk. I can’t ramble to him, or chitchat about the random things the way I can with my mother. 
; Its not just because she’s a female and girls have that ability. I have plenty of guy friends with whom I can just be with, relax and just ramble. Not all of them, but I can’t do that with all of my girl friends either. There are things I don’t tell certain friends, etc. But the biggest act that gets put on is during conversations with my father. I suppose this is why my stress and anxiety seem to rise when a conversation with him is on the horizon.
But I’m not going crazy yet, right?
Why does it feel like night today?
Something in here’s not right today.
Why am I so uptight today?
Paranoia’s all I got left
I don’t know what stressed me first
Or how the pressure was fed
But I know just what it feels like
To have a voice in the back of my head
Like a face that I hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face watches every time I lie
A face that laughs every time I fall
(And watches everything)
So I know that when it’s time to sink or swim
That the face inside is hearing me
Right beneath my skin
It’s like I’m paranoid lookin’ over my back
It’s like a whirlwind inside of my head
It’s like I can’t stop what I’m hearing within
It’s like the face inside is right beneath my skin
I know I’ve got a face in me
Points out all my mistakes to me
You’ve got a face on the inside too and
Your paranoia’s probably worse
I don’t know what set me off first
But I know what I can’t stand
Everybody acts like the fact of the matter is
I can’t add up to what you can but
Everybody has a face that they hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face watches every time they lie
A face that laughs every time they fall
(And watches everything)
So you know that when it’s time to sink or swim
That the face inside is watching you too
Right inside your skin
It’s like I’m paranoid lookin’ over my back
It’s like a whirlwind inside of my head
It’s like I can’t stop what I’m hearing within
It’s like the face inside is right beneath my skin
Papercut ~ Linkin Park