Ode a mon journal

When I get upset about things I have no control over, or when I feel like I should be able to control my emotional response and then get frustrated that I can't, my ultimate solution, when I'm by myself, is to read things I have written in my paper journal. In comparison to my freshman year, my hierarchy-of-needs business shifted this year and I had to remind myself that the things I got upset over (relationship, basically) were kind of luxuries; the soul-searching and intellectual needs were being met. Sometimes I reread all about how excited I was about life at GW and all the new things I was thinking about when that began. This reminds me of all the little details that make up my life, quantifying them, as I came to appreciate their entry into my life.
Tonight as I was reorganizing all of my things in preparation to move back to GW, I found my older journal, my pre-GW paper journal. It is beautiful. I took such pleasure in picking it out. The cover is soft and black, with lots of different colored circles made out of some blend of paper and fabric. The endpaper is fancy and turquoise and over the course of fourteen months (June 12, 2006 to August 12, 2007 exactly) I have covered it with quotes that inspired me. Two in particular that I enjoy today are:

"Even my language I forget." (Timothy Douglas, American theater director, when he stumbled on words during a guest lecture in my Languages of the Stage class)

"today i was walking about and i saw a little girl with her mother who stopped in front of a window display and said, 'mama, what's that?' and i thought about what you said about our general curiosity about things. and i thought about how even though all of us are relatiely intelligent and learning new stuff all the time, we are all really childlike. and i think that is a really important key in all of our... well, everything- happiness, love for one another, enjoyment of laughter and hypothetical situations, curiosity. i saw a documentary about einstein the other day and he said that he looked at the world like a child, not taking for granted anything (such as space and time) and then, from questioning, came up with his theory of relativity. so basically, we are einsten. love you with my whole heart." (kristine, who else?)

So, this gives me courage. I tend to be emotionally weaker when not constantly surrounded by people who push me. These times of transition when I am at home, unbusy, with my family, all busy in their lives, give me time to focus on these microdetails of my emotional well-being and often this is uncomfortable.

Reading through my written account of my freshman year at Emerson, I really must give myself some credit. I was a lot smarter then, much smarter than I thought. I try to be a thoughtful and engaged person, as a citizen of this world, but I am constantly apologizing for how I was or how I thought just before whatever present time.

There are many things I found in this journal that I find to be very smart, very insightful. The pages of this journal are on handmade paper and there are flecks of gold and silver string in it. I took great pleasure in writing in pens with flowy ink to maximize the aesthetic appeal of my journal and to make sure it inspired me. To make sure it was enjoyable to write, to keep track of even the most mundane things. That may be why I am bad at keeping up with an electronic blog. I also love looking at my handwriting when I reread my journal - I remember exactly how I was feeling at the time, no matter what the words themselves say.

Here is an excerpt from what would have been an otherwise entirely shallow entry about a boy I had a crush on at that point:

jeudi, le 12 avril

...At some point over the span of time between now and then, I'll have to really focus on my papers. eeeeeek. don't want to. Nervous. Anxious/excited about going home, and also TERRIFIED of it. No joke. I don't even know how to think about anything right now. I'd like to cry... but I'm just periodtastic and everything and NOTHING is cry-worthy. Like, little things really make me want to burst into tears - like going away (back?), my very open future, my emotions, how much I feel like I am hiding from them, - and then the pointlessness and complete, utter insignificance of those problems and things I am inventing in my hormonal brain make my poor sad heart a little too stone-cold, and I think about all of the things in the world and what is real and what is not and who decides, and why does it even matter? This is "putting it in perspective." And I have no emotional release for anything, consequently. Someone, please tell me, and save me years of heartache and confusion, what is the point? what am I supposed to do? What is the meaning of life at all? How can I make my life mean something? How do I begin? And where do I go. And when am I allowed to cry without feeling guilty and pointless?

I realized today that I do ask a ton of questions. I didn't used to be that way. When I tell stories about a littler Laura, it is an insecure Laura, afraid to ask any questions, afraid of offending anyone, overly sensitive, and very concerned with myself in different spaces and situations.
It is, I think, a culmination of different factors: the lesson I learned immediately at Emerson about interacting with other people, general curiosity about life, and wanting to understand other people better than I do.

Thursday, April 26
...I spent the afternoon in a beautiful reading room at the Boston Public Library, reading TIME archives alongside centuries of other peoples' thoughts, research, and inventions. Really incredible things, libraries ... like bein gin an empty church, where I feel so connected to everything in existence, tangible and untouchable, and yet so isolated, alone, and unimportant all at once.
...That's almost ten hours of work in one day. Too bad I may not have a use for any of this religion stuff, but that's learning for sake of learning, n'est-ce pas? During my presentation, I came up with a really good explanation of why it is important for me to study religion. I said something along the liens of "religion is my religion," as I don't know if I have an actual spirituality yet, but religion is such an important factor in so many lives; it is something incredibly personal yet totally unifying at the same time, people are so senstivie, so defensive of their beliefs or lack thereof, and very very very hesitant to talk about them in discussion form. I ask because I want to know, not because I want to judge. Most definitely the opposite of judgment happening on my part, as far as religion goes.
If there is one thing I continue to take from my studies, it's that there are a TON of things that are far too complex to summarize and form simple statements of opinion about, like war, social problems, race relations, economic status, religions... why people are religion, what it means to them, how it defines them personally and in relation to the global community. I wish more people my age would think like this... be wide-eyed and yet completely chill about new information. Welcoming all new information openly. That would make me very happy!

Thursday, May 3
In Logan Airport for possibly the last time in a long time!
...I hate this whole LOSS feeling. I am going to push myself to appreciate the fact that I got to do so many things and live in such an exciting part of Boston. My life in Boston is not over, I am coming back. I will live here someday, it is far too wonderful.
Sitting in the Wolfgang Puck, I was taking everything in, as I still feel very padded, like I am suspended in the world currently and reacting to outside forces but none of my own. I was seated facing the bar, where CNN was on, shots of Condoleezza Rice at a very significant conference in Egypt with a Syrian leader, among others, to discuss Iraq. There was no sound, no captioning, but I could hear the soft rock station clearly over the loudspeaker.
Reminded me of coming back from New York with Gresa, when I was reading White Noise and then we went to the BIG-Y supermarket and I felt very empty, cynical, and sad for our world. All of this exposure is scary, and I am not necessarily unhappy because of it, but I am certainly more complicated thanks to this year. Complicated, complex, cohesive ? Thought I have developed a stutter, which confuses me. Another C word! Good job Laura.
...The other thing that made me sad about Wolfgang Puck was that nobody was watching the Developing Story of the international conference in Egypt.
...Another reason I got a star stuck to my foot is that I will never ever be able to look at it without remembering exactly who I am right at the moment when I got it. I hope I never ever stop caring about everything and other people the way I have learned to this year.


This journal ends with details about my fuzzy-headed feelings (sinus problems and boy-related intrigue) and, on the last page,

I feel like since this journal is coming to a close, I should have some insights, some conclusions or something to definitively state right now. I don't know exactly what it is that I could say, except for - please take note of all the growing that's happened since I started writing in this journal last summer. Everything about Emerson, about making friends, about making choices, about learning, teaching, coaching, directing, staying as close to whatever current version of myself I need to stick to, being the same me around everybody and being as respectful, receptive, courteous, and good-natured to everybody. Because every little bit helps.
And to always remember why I have a star tattooed onto my foot - because what is right is not always what is easy.

It is our choices, Harry, that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities.
-Dumbledore.

On the next sheet - endpaper - is written, in true homage to Guster, and the most appropriate thing I could ever think of:

Steady on this high-rise, like every lightning rod, and all these clouds are boiling over
Swimming in adrenaline,
the sky is caving in, but I will
remain the honest soldier
!