There's this rumor floating around that the key to satisfaction is to sap the moment for all its syrupy goodness and to become content with your station in life; and while I've made a history of agreeing with that notion, I'm realizing that to some extent justifying your state of living isn't enough, that you have to exercise an opposing force to the things that life wings at you and see where the friction lands you. I'm not really happy here, and the past weekend was horrible because I realized how Kristen is getting so much more from college than I am. For a while, I was the one who was consoling her over the phone and telling her that college was going to get better and she would get used to it eventually, and because she was having such a rought time it seemed to me that I was making a pretty good go of it. Now, she's in a place where she feels like she really belongs, which makes me so happy for her, but accompanying it are feelings of loss, jealousy, and disappointment with my own experiences. The funny thing is, she sounds exactly how I probably sounded earlier this year when Breakfast Club was wrapping and stuff was clicking so well.

At my adviser meeting, I was told that people who loved high school (and we're quite rare, apparently) seldom have a college experience that exceeds their four years in high school; their only hope is that it can somehow match it. I miss home terribly, and my homesickness definitely affects my mood here, but I've been telling people that I want to become a high school teacher, and I sincerely mean that. I knew in high school how much I loved high school. I understood high school. I don't understand college. Maybe it's because there aren't enough parameters. When there are so many restrictions as there exist at Milton, stretching the borders even a little bit has its own satisfying glory. I derived meaning in life from putting Christmas decorations in my locker, finding ways to integrate Jones-directed insults in all my Pacesetter projects, and walking to my car in the middle of 5th period on a beautiful spring day to go buy a button for Nick's Black Comedy costume or whatever excuse we used that day to justify leaving campus. I can do all that in college, but it won't mean anything; nobody stops me if I want to skip class and walk downtown, or put Christmas lights in my dorm, or challenge my professor: in college, everybody's seen everything. The implications of this is that I've derived all my self-worth from people admiring the way I could push buttons in high school, and now that I'm in a setting that's much closer to the real world, everything is taken up a step. It's a challenge, and I don't doubt that I can overcome it, but it's seriously caught me off guard with a killer sucker-punch.

Henry V opens tomorrow night, and by Sunday it'll all be gone, thank god. I've made every effort to befriend these people, and it's simply been a total failure. As a result, I've come to question everything of value I ever thought I had concerning talent, personality, and friendship. Maybe it's all a part of being a freshman again, maybe it's too early to tell, maybe I'm just not up to the challenge; believe me, I've considered everything, but if I'm not mistaken, I was promised the best 4 years of my life. And it seems like almost everybody else is getting just that, unless you're all lying, and I'm left wondering at night why it's so hard for me; the natural conclusion is that it has nothing to do with where I'm going and everything to do with my own shortcomings.

Thus follows the usual apology for my rant of ungratefulness. I'm sure I sounded like this a year ago, too. Damn, I wish it were Christmas.