sit down son

Once upon a time when I was young and innocent and watching as all the black caps flew into chaos at my high school graduation, I thought to myself: "This is it. This is when my life really begins."

Two years later and most of the excitement of college had faded, I no longer obsessively bought supplies for my classes and organized my notes and binders into anything I could easily access. Two years after we both left home and went to college I was back at home with my boyfriend for the weekend. Three and a half years in and things weren't going well, but I'd put so much time and effort into being with him that I didn't know how to stop. On Friday he was looking at engagement rings. On Sunday we were over. This was not the rest of my life, and I wasn't going to let anyone choose for me anymore. I decided then and there (after some angry tears, large amounts of chocolate and an embarrassing wipe-out of a fall at Walmart) that this was it, this was when my life was going to start.

A college town in the summer in a largely abandoned dorm (one of the few other inhabitants being aforementioned ex) is, in short, not the best place to kick start your brand new life. For months, all my networking fell flat, I still only had a handful of friends and my roommate had been dating my ex's roommate for longer than even he and I had known each other. But I still kept that drive, that decision that this freedom was when my life was going to start, I was not going to let anything keep me down, I was going to meet people and go places and learn to be outgoing and fun. I was going to pick my world up from the ruins it had become and goddamnit, I was going to enjoy it.

Eventually, it worked. My last year of college was one of the best times of my life. I had friends, I had people who cared about me, I was doing well, I had a plan. I had my moments where things didn't work how I wanted them too, but they worked out better for my initial failures. I missed all the deadlines for the American universities I was interested in but I managed to apply to one European one, I got in. I was over the moon. This was it, this was definitely it, this was when life really started. With moving, by myself, to Ireland.

My plan didn't work out. Sure, I went to Ireland, I got my degree, it was another amazing time in my life because all my hard work had paid off, I really had become fun, outgoing and interesting to be around. I knew everyone, they knew me, I loved every second of the social aspect of my decision. The academic? Well, parts I loved, parts I found mind-numbing. And in the end, I didn't have the drive to get over the mind-numbing because it was numbing all the passion I had once had for my plan. This was clearly not where my life was starting.

I came home. I wrote my dissertation. I tried dating again. I got a job. I applied to another degree and was working my way into excitement again, all read for my life to start, finally, because it was time, damnit, it was time for it to be my time.

It wasn't.

Life, I've found, is nothing but a constant series of winding myself up, hoping for the best, and eventually watching it drift away. It's grabbing that wind-up key and pushing with all your might to keep trying and keep riding the roller coaster that is life with all its ups and downs, being the little wind-up toy marching along and hoping he's not about to fall off a desk.

But no one gets anywhere without marching forward and sometimes in the brief instant before you crash on the floor, you fly.

Have you ever noticed that when you don't post for weeks on end, it gets harder and harder to find a reason to?

So hello, LiveJournal. I'm still out here, still kicking, still reading. Actually reading books again, even, which is really, really nice. Still working, but that's a story for another day.

New season of therealljidol is getting ready to start up, and I've missed writing like I was missing reading and this year, I'm not in the midst of dissertation madness and panics, I'm employed, and I've settled into the new place to the extent that I'll be sad to leave it in (less than) a month now.

Oh, the stories I have to tell...

Growing up I, like many other children, hated the dentist. And brushing my teeth, and mouth wash and flossing and all that horrid stuff, especially when I was told to stop eating so much candy as it was giving me cavities, etc.

So I'm sure you can imagine my horror when I heard those three dreaded words: You need braces. I did not! My teeth were fine! Alright, there were one or two that were a little uneven and I had a little bit of an overbite, but I had seem so many people with worse teeth that it hardly seemed to be anything of consequence. But, confused as I might be, I ended up with the braces. Two years of going back to the dentist every month to have my teeth tugged about until they suited the orthodontist in where they were inched that little bit closer to, of trying to pick colors for tiny little rubber bands that I wouldn't hate before the month was out, of perpetually sore teeth.

But this isn't about the braces, not really. This is about the retainer.

I'm sure anyone who's ever had a retainer has at least one amazing story of how they threw it out. This is mine.

I was fourteen when I got rid of the braces, and just about to go to a big theatre competition. My school had won for our state and we were going to represent the state in the South Eastern Theatre Conference. That really is a story all in itself, but the fact of the matter was that it was in Florida in March and we decided to take one of our "free" days on the trip to go have lunch at the beach. Which means, necessarily, eating out of wrappers on the ground and having a good laugh of things and beating off the seagulls who kept trying to steal my cheetos. Not being used to owning a retainer, it naturally made its way into the somewhat disgusting off-season trash bin.

For about an hour and a half.

Then I realized what had happened and raced back to the trash bin and am, literally, upside down in it trying to find my retainers when the adults, a little ways down the beach, notice. My mother was chaperoning the trip and our director for the play grabbed her elbow and went "Kathy! That's your child!" before shouting up at me that there was still plenty of food. Like I would really be eating out of the trash!

In the end, one of the other chaperons helped me locate the retainer with a pizza box, shifting things about including a dirty diaper and some decomposing lettuce. It was found, eventually, and not worn until it could be sufficiently cleaned. In boiling water and antibacterial and toothpaste.


That story followed me all throughout the rest of my high school theatre days, leading to several running jokes and a few "slammy" awards, including a pacifier clip intended for my retainer. The story has been told many times, by many people, and often in highly embarrassing places, but really. What's the use of a great story about accidental dumpster-diving if you can't smile at yourself?

Hello and welcome to my journal! This introduction is serving for two purposes: the main one is for LJ Idol, which I mentioned briefly earlier this evening. The other is for the fact that I haven't done one in donkey years and have made a lot of random friends since that time. Some of you I've talked to a good bit in comments or on IM, others I haven't.

I like to think I lead an interesting life, though it's interesting more in the case of how disgustingly normal it can be rather than any huge upheavals or problems. I'm 23 years old and have a degree in English and will soon have a M. Phil in Anglo-Irish literature. When people ask me where I'm from, I'm not sure how to answer anymore. I have a bit of wanderlust, but I don't see that as a bad thing, except possibly for the amount of debt it's putting me into!

I was born in Virginia, lived briefly in South Carolina, but lived most of my life in Georgia, where I attended undergrad. I spent the last year living in Dublin, Ireland, and in the meantime, my parents moved to North Carolina on account of my sisters finally finishing high school and moving out of our house. My dad was self-employed for four years in order to keep the family in the same city as we grew up and took a better-paying job which caused the move. When I came back to the US a month ago, I moved back in with my parents until I take my next step, which will be a third degree, probably.

My parents have been happily married for over 25 years, I have two younger sisters and we grew up in a great neighborhood with a backporch and yard and a playset my dad built. We played tag, ghost and the graveyard and built horrible three forts with our neighbors, were allowed to do all manner of extracurricular activities, had lemonade stands and played in the sprinklers. I have a great relationship with both of my parents and get on well with both of my sisters, we've had a brilliant life.

I like stories. I had a friend once who would say to me, "tell me a story," every day when I'd sign online, it made me look at my life as a collection of stories. I think everyone's life is a collection of stories and I love hearing them and telling my own. I think I have some pretty good ones. Several of my friends have said to me that my life is more like a soap opera than reality at times, and while it is all true, I can see where they're coming from. Someday, I hope to write it all down, except I can't do that until it comes full circle somehow.

I dated a guy in high school and college for 3 1/2 years. It was mostly miserable at the end and we don't speak now, but I have to admit that the relationship, breakup, and two years of anger and issues he left me with shaped me. When I left him behind, I changed my entire outlook on life. It was hard and there were days that felt like hell, but I'm happier for it and a lot more outgoing than I used to be. Friendship, consequently, is the cornerstone of my life more so than any romantic relationship. I don't date, which tends to confuse people from time to time, but it's getting easier. I refuse to commit myself in any real way until I know for certain that it's the person I want to spend my life with.

I'm a southerner from the deep south with...most of what that entails. I'm not a bible-thumper and I don't like sweet tea, but I believe in southern hospitality and homemade cookies. I tend to be better at talking to people in person than via the internet, but I do well enough here as well. I've climbed trees and had Sunday afternoon picnics and gone stargazing and been kissed in a cotton field at 3 in the morning while my toes froze from the dew. I don't really know what to do with snow, but I did get to have my first snowball fight while I lived in Dublin. I was frozen after and required a hot cup of tea to warm up, but it was brilliant fun! We also made a snowman that slowly became anatomically correct with vegetables passed out the window. I love to sing and drink, now, in moderation, though I have definitely drank to excess in the past, oh, year, many times. I've mostly learned my lesson with that and my most recent birthday marked a full year since I'd puked on account of it, though the making out with inappropriate people did tend to make for good stories. I love costumes and Halloween and parties and meeting people and having a simple good time. I did theatre as well.

Generally, I'm a nice person. I give trust easily, but it's hard to win it back from me once you've lost it. Though generally, I'll do my best to be polite, at least, even if there is some reason I dislike you.

Most of the time I spend online is dedicated to fandom in some way, and has been for years. I've been a quiet part of several fandoms over the years, but am starting to speak up a bit more in my current one: Merlin. I got to watch a lot of BBC shows while I lived in Ireland and really enjoy all the people I've met because of them! I've done LJ RP and run a small game with my good friend, Nez, who I lived with for the better part of two months in Dublin, though I've not had much time for it lately on account of moving back here and the dissertation I'm working on finishing up this week.

Which, speaking of, I'd best get back to! Thanks for reading and I'll be playing catch up on everyone else's Introductions soon, I just have to tackle some Edgeworth first...