Introspective thoughts

So. Exam week is upon us. I have two more today, Chemistry and German (already took my history one at 8 am), and then only one more on Thursday and I'm done. Everyone keeps asking me if I feel weird that my first year of college is almost over, and I think Joseph and I talked about it this past weekend. The truth is that I really don't feel any different. I'm excited it's so early into May that we get out of school, but really, it just feels like...school. The first day I was here, walking around campus on my own, without texting my mom so she wouldn't worry, was probably the most liberating thing at the time. Classes far apart so one could nap between them was new (and glorious). But now college is just another routine. Get up, go to class, nap or play on the computer or get food, and go back to class if it applies, go home or visit Joseph on the weekends, and repeat. Not that I don't like/love some parts of it, but once you get over the initial "this is awesome" aspect of it, it kind of falls into place.

I wrote five looseleaf pages' worth of an essay comparing and contrasting Fascism and Communism for my history exam today. I never thought I'd enjoy discussing Communism, but I thoroughly enjoyed that essay. I could have gone on and on talking about the two topics. Dr. Fallin made a point to emphasize describing how Fascism and Communism affected Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, but I rambled about Mussolini's Fascist Italy and Mao's Communist China also. It was really fun, and I hope I gave Dr. Fallin what he wanted for that question, because I feel confident in my essay. We'll see. I'm not sure why I felt the need to talk about the essay I wrote earlier, but it's here, and I'm proud of it, so I might as well. I kind of want to write a paper about it, but really, why on earth would I do that if it weren't for a grade? That's not necessarily the mindset I have, because if I wanted to do it enough I really would, but I just don't have the energy right now. Maybe this summer.

This summer is full of opportunity. Possibly working at a children's place if they have slots/if I can work afternoon shifts only, possibly traveling to North Carolina with Mom via car to visit Lynda, Starbucks only twice a month at most (I really just don't care about Sbux anymore thanks to the terrible management), painting and cleaning the house (thank god!) with Mom, and preparing for the next school year. People ask me what I want to do with my degree in history, and I usually tell them, "I guess I'm doomed to be a teacher," with a laugh. The truth is, I've always wanted to be a teacher since I was a child (I would have "class" on the blackboard my dad bought me) but I would like working with either elementary-age kids (third grade and below, please) or college-level kids. I really don't do the middle- and high-school age well at all. I have trouble relating because I had such a terrible middle-school experience and really, my high school wasn't a typical high school. We had many of the same clichés and such, but as far as curriculum goes, it was very atypical. However, with history, I'd also like to do work abroad- maybe archaeological digs, or travel to all the different churches in Europe and write a book (or two or three) about them, or study a language in the native country, or lecture at an overseas university--something. I also think it'd be great to be a forensic psychologist...but we'll see if that happens...

Yesterday at my appointment with my psychologist, I told her of my plans to work in the daycare, and she said, "Your Nana took care of kids too, so she would be proud!" and I hadn't thought of that before. Nana babysat starting with the death of my grandfather in 1990 (I think '90, I sure don't remember) up until I was about ten or eleven, and really, it's somewhat coincidentally funny that I would become interested in working with kids the same year my grandmother passed away. As Mona said in the obituary, Nana was a second mother to all the kids she kept. I doubt I can make such a profound difference in a child's life in that short a time or in that impersonal an environment, but I would love to try, and continue to strive to be there for my own niece and nephew. I feel bad because truthfully, I see them less than I see Joseph's nieces. I love them all too, but isn't that kind of odd?

Regan's almost nine, and she loves me (I guess because I'm a girl too and when I was that age, I worshiped my cousin Kelly, who's six years older than me because she was an older girl; we're still the closest out of the cousins) but I just never see her. And I want to be more than 'the aunt she only sees once a year, if even that.' And Justin- I love that kid. He's almost in high school now, which is so weird to me! He's five years younger than me, but I still remember when I would pick him up and pretend we were flying around. I remember him lying on the blanket on the floor and my dad and I playing with him when he was a baby. I remember playing basketball with him and playing on the XBox with him. It's sad because I relate to him more than I relate to Regan; there's a bigger age gap (ten years between us) and she's a 'girly-girl,' which I never was. Sure, I loved putting on makeup badly, and I loved (still do) jewelry, and I loved dressing up, but really, I was somewhat a tomboy. I got dirty in the backyard all the time, played basketball with Dad until sundown (I miss those days so much- those probably rank among my favorite memories of us). I mean, I was a messy child. I walked around barefoot and climbed on top of my playhouse and rode my bike up the street without Mom's permission and sat and spied on people and kept a notebook (Harriet the Spy was my role model at that time). I never did cheerleading or beauty pageants. I did gymnastics, and that was fun, until we started having to do back rolls on the balance beam and I had a nervous breakdown (gymnastics is still one of my favorite events in the Summer Olympics though- I just don't have the nerve to fall off a beam that's 4+ feet off the ground or do flips over a vault, thanks very much). I did dance, and that was fun until the place went downhill and I felt I was too fat to do dance anymore, but I still never was a 'girly-girl.' I wasn't a "diva," like Sherrie calls Regan.

I hope I can make a difference in a child's life. I hope I can see my own niece and nephew soon. I want to talk to Justin about his life now that we're old enough to do so relatively maturely. I want to be there for Regan's various cheerleading matches throughout her "career" as a cheerleader. I want to go to Justin's football games. I also want to see Joseph's nieces and get to know them like I never got to know Regan before she got older (not to say I want to use his family, but rather, there's a group of people I can relate to much better than I can relate to my very own family, and I enjoy spending time with them). It's only been two years and a handful of meetings, but I feel like Joseph's grandfather is my grandfather too. I never had a grandfather I remembered. It's nice having that kind of father figure, especially since my actual father has gone, and it's nice having the grandparent figure as well, now since Nana's gone.

My geography teacher told me the older one gets, the more he/she thinks of his/her family. I already think of mine enough- I hate to know what I'll be like when I get older!

"Do you need anything?"
"No, hon, I'm just going to see my family."

That little bit of dialogue between my dad and I the night he died sticks with me so strongly. I hope when a person dies, he/she gets to see his/her family again. It might be the only thing that makes me embrace death whenever it comes for me (I hope a long time from now!). I can't wait to see Dad and Nana again. Until that day, I'll concentrate on the family members who are still here, and making a difference in others' lives.