Six-year-old dogs’ poop

The giant field near the dorms was aerated over the weekend.  I love walking across the freshly-pulled soil.  I love the squish that accompanies.  It squishes, but it is solid, present.  When I was little, I used to think that the lawns and fields were simply covered in dog poo.  I avoided it like nothing else.  Even when I knew that it was just dirt, I couldn’t step in it at all.  I walked across the field, feeling the texture and shape through my shoes.  What would my six-year-old self think?  She would probably scream "Eeeeeeeeew" and run away really fast, to great comic effect.

My six-year-old self would be highly disappointed in a lot of things I do, I think.  "You believe in WHAT!?"  Or, better yet, "You kissed GIRLS?  Eeeeeeeeeeeew!"  Thank God for paradigm shifts, no?

Actually, I think I’m giving my younger self too much doubt here.  I have always been one to try new things and push boundaries.  I remember once in preschool, someone called someone else gay, and a third person asked "what’s that?"  The first person explained "Well, it’s like when you’re a guy and you’ve kissed another guy or you’re a girl and you’ve kissed another girl."  Satisfied with that explanation, and recalling the time that my cousin (female) gave me a goodnight kiss when my mom was too occupied, I declared that I was gay.

I think my six-year-old self would think that I’m really cool, actually.  I’m in college, studying a really neat subject ("And making things blow up!  COOL!").  I’m going to be moving into a new house with my boyfriend of nearly two years.  ("A GREEN house!  Oh, wow!  I can’t wait to be you!")  I still do art and creative things like that ("And it’s so good!  Wow!  I want to be able to draw like you!"), and I definitely still play pretend ("I don’t get why you even use dice.  This is boring.  But you do still play lavamonster, so I guess I forgive you.").

I love looking back through my diary and seeing how I’ve changed.  Sometimes I do not think that I’ve changed all that much, but I read back and notice huge changes, even in writing style and quality, not to mention general ideas.  For the first year (probably more?  I’m not going to go back and check my facts) of keeping this diary, all I could write about was my extreme desire to shove my tongue down someone else’s throat.  And yes, it was almost that graphic.

I know that the person who started this diary would be really proud of who I am.  I’m everything that I wanted to be.  Stable.  Happy.  In a relationship.  (Which will always be a huge factor in my happiness; I know that that’s not "supposed" to be the case or whatever, but it is a really important aspect of my life.  I can still be happy without a relationship, and I still know when I should NOT be having one, but I’m not complete without another half.)  I’m also getting really good grades in college.  I really care, and I’m making it happen.  I get along with my mother.  I’m just… this is where I’ve always wanted to be.  And I’m there.  And I still have goals; there’s so much still to do (and to become!) and I know I can do it!

I had my first exam today, which was biochemistry.  Definitely my most stressful exam.  Not only is it for my most difficult class, but it counts for 60% of my grade (roughly seven times that of any one of the midterms).  So, yeah, I was a bit stressed about that.  And I fucking aced that test.  Which I damned well deserve, considering how hard I’ve studied for that class.  So I may get an A in that class.  (I have no idea how the rest of the class will do, and the class is pretty heavily curved, but my grade range instead of being from a D to an A is now from a B to an A.)

I love jingling my keychain.  It used to have just two keys on it, my dorm key, and a key to my parents’ house.  Now it has FIVE keys.  I’ve added the key to the front door of MY house, the key to the door of MY kitchen, and the key to the backdoor of MY house.  My green house.  And my keys jingle.  And it reminds me that I’m moving in to a very wonderful, wonderful green house.  With my wonderful, wonderful boyfriend.  And our wonderful friends.

I’ve hit that stage in my life where I feel my roots dangling in midair.  I don’t have a home base.  I’m moving out of the dorms–  Friday.  Friday morning.  So this room doesn’t really feel like my home anymore.  And while I’m excited about the new house, I’m not even close to being moved in yet, let alone having it feel like a home.  Like my home.  I remember the first time I had this feeling.  It was accompanied by intense vertigo.  Sickness, dizziness, loss…

Moving into the dorms for the first time was a very stressful time in my life.  New place.  New school.  New people.  My aunt (second mother, really) died on the first day of classes.  I was so overwhelmed.  And so lost.  And I made that place my haven and sanctuary.  Then I lost it, and was stuck at my parents’ house for the summer.  And then I moved into a different dorm, while my parents’ sold the house where I grew up.  The vertigo feeling again.

But this time?  I feel safe this time.  Rather than plummeting off the top of a tall building, watching the ground rush toward me…  It’s more like leaning against the railing, and feeling it hold.  I can do this.

One of my reasons for attending college at the University of Utah was that I didn’t think that I could adjust to living somewhere completely new, meeting completely new people… starting over.  I didn’t think I could do it.  And I still don’t think I could’ve done it.  But I can do it now.  I’m not afraid to leave Utah anymore.  Especially if Bryan comes with me.  (But if he doesn’t– I can still take on the world!).

I know that a lot of this "I can do it" attitude is because I’m really pleased with the outcome of my exam, but DAMN.  I made that happen.  I feel on top of it.  I can do this.

Now to study for my other three exams…