Face off with Failure

Dealing with failure. Sometimes we just fail. Nothing goes the way we hope and expect and we just have to face failure. So what do we do? How do we handle failure?

I've been applying for summer jobs for at least three months now, and nothing at all has come through, except for a job at camp which I turned down because I thought I had so many other options and I didn't want to have to spend a whole summer essentially off the grid. Long distance relationships are hard enough without only being able to talk once a week.

But application after application and interviews and phone calls and yet I'm still sitting here with no job. I'm facing failure right now, and it hurts.

After my interview at the grocery store today I bought myself an iced coffee to celebrate one more interview done and trick myself into thinking how great a chance I had and how everything was going to work out. But then I got home and my sister asked how the interview went and it was like a tidal wave punched me in the stomach.

The required background check can take anywhere from three days to two weeks, and my interviewer said it will take longer if I've ever lived out of state. Great. Not only have I lived in Colorado, Vermont and Indiana in the last seven years, I've also lived in two different states in Mexico and I did a couple months in Europe. Considering what I know about Mexican Bureaucracy, which my English teacher and good friend compared to a tangled ball of Oaxaca Cheese, they'll probably never finish the background check. If they do, it'll for sure take the whole two weeks.

And then there's always that possibility that after those two weeks I'll get a call saying I don't get the job. Or more likely I won't get any calls, since that seems to be the trend with all the thousands of places I've applied to. I mean, as much as the rejection hurts, it's better than the uncertainty and abandonment of not even getting a call. I'm not even worth a phone call to hear that they don't want me.

And now it's too late to apply anywhere. Summer is pretty much already here, and business have already hired the people they want, as was explained to me in a ten minute long voice mail by the only business who did call back. "I'm applying late in the game." I wonder if she would have said that if she knew how many hours I've spent trying to find a job.

So my first reaction to dealing with failure was to mumble something to my sister and run up to my room, close the door, throw myself on the bed and cry into my pillow. Makeup and tears don't mix well. I hope the mascara doesn't stain the sheets...

My second reaction is to write about it, because sometimes when I'm feeling awful writing it all down helps me to see that it really isn't the end of the world and I'm just overreacting.

I don't know what the next step is. My sister said I should call my mom, but I'm not up to talking to anyone except paper (or theoretical paper here on the computer screen). I'll call her later and see if there are any places in this tiny little town I haven't applied to yet. I'll pray my voice out that somehow the background check will only take three days and I'll get a call telling me I got the job. Any job.

I know God has some sort of plan not just for my life but for this summer. It's just really hard to see what that could be when every door I try to walk through seems to just slam back into my face. I don't know what to do anymore except try to use this unwanted free time to work on my novel some more and crank out poems that hopefully aren't awful. Here's to writing- apparently the only thing I can do.

Surviving College

How to survive college in ten easy steps... or fighting depression 101. Just kidding, I'm not going to give you a list of ways to fight depression in college. It might be nice if I had such a list, but I'm sure they exist out there in the world wide web. After all, depression seems to be a sickeningly normal thing for college students, especially here up North where the sun disappears for half the year.

I don't want to say that I'm depressed, I've never been to a counselor or doctor or anything, and I can usually still function and have never been to the point where I absolutely needed help. But there's definitely something that makes college hard. Some weight on my chest that makes me choke. Something holding my throat to try and keep me from getting out of bed in the mornings.


I don't want to complain, though, or make you feel sorry for me, or anything. I cried at least once a day every day the week after spring break, and it was so hard. But it's been so much better these last few days, and for me writing has always been a way to cope. I know I'm doing better because I can write about this. Last week there's no way I would have had the energy to write a blog post.

So this blog is all about the girl behind the pages, but even while I hide behind the pages sometimes I feel like I cannot exist until I've written myself into the pages in some way. This blog is me getting better. Me admitting that this first year of college has not been the best year of my life.

But this is also me hoping. Hoping that I'll keep getting better. That I'll find joy in the mornings, that I'll take pride in my work, that I'll seek out my friends. This is me taking off the mask and praying that what's underneath will still be shaped into a smile.

It's also a confession that novels have suffered because of this darkness, but a finger-crossing that maybe some of the poems I've spat out have some potential.

In class we talk a lot about how grief, shadows, and pain can lead to great writing. So here's to new writing and the beginning of spring, which I hope to be a sort of turning point. Just four weeks of school left, and I know that words will carry me through.

Quidditch and Questions

What does it mean to be a college student? I would have thought that being in college would make it possible for me to answer that. Unfortunately, I still have no idea.

Life right now still feels so unsettled, so crazy. I feel like these weeks have been full of roller-coaster changes and I just don't always know how to deal with them. The silliest things set me off. Today the issue is whether or not to go to the first meeting for the Quidditch Club. I really don't have any good  points for either side. I don't particularly want to do anything at all right now; this last week has been full of people and classes and homework and card-games and I would really like to take the rest of the day to myself. Besides, is "oh, Harry Potter!" a good enough reason to run around with a broomstick between my legs avoiding dodge balls? I'm really not sure. Then again, this is college. I'm supposed to go have fun and live  my life and not sit in my dorm room alone all day. The week has been full and a bit overwhelming, but not busy. I have a lot of free time, a bit too much, and would like some way to fill it. Just... not today.

Besides, not going to Quidditch would mean I'd get to talk to my dad sooner. This week has also been a little bit homesick, as I'm starting to realize just how far away from everyone I really am. I can't say that I don't know anyone here anymore, I have a lot of friends and acquaintances and everything else. But there's definitely no one from 'home' here no matter which way I try to define that word.

I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, though. College has been great. We spent two full class periods in Media and Society talking about books, and it was awesome. And for my Intro to Professional Writing class my assignment is to listen in on people's conversations. I do that all the time anyway, having it given as an assignment is great.

Plus, the novel material here in college? Every kind of character I can imagine is here, such a variety of personalities all merged together into one place. I kind of have a theory that after a while people will start blending together. Humans have a way of wanting to fit into the crowd, and while I imagine that a lot of these college students are trying really hard to stand out in a crowd, I bet before too long they'll slide together a little bit. Then again, maybe not. I'll find out, I guess.

I don't know what else to say. There's so much I could say but I'm not sure how much is worse immortalizing on the written page. Maybe as I head into this third week I'll get into some kind of routine and find a way to post on here more often. To be honest I kind of forgot that I had a blog until today, when I needed somewhere to write without working on my novel, because I can't quite focus on Equity Blue right now. Anyway, college life begins, or continues, or whatever. This is the first day of the rest of my life, right?

Almost

I leave tomorrow. Yikes.

Now is the last minute making sure I have everything. Not that it matters since I don't really have a way of getting anything that I don't already have.

However, this whole idea of leaving so soon would be easier if I had a way to talk to people back in Oaxaca. Trying to communicate over facebook with my mom isn't working at all.  I don't know if my grandpa's computer is just awful or if my mom is ignoring my messages even though she messsaged me first so I know she's there. Oh well. Maybe she'll figure out the facebook isn't working and just call.

Well I guess all there is to do now is to stay calm as I count down to hours to my first flight. That and writing in my blog and my journal as well as the NaPoWriMo poem of the day. Oh wait, I already did that. Another poem can't hurt, right?

School Life Outside of School

Sometimes I wish I could change certain parts of my life.

I mean, I've been so busy, but not hanging out with friends. I mean, today is Friday, right? And we didn't have any school in order to celebrate something. (Maybe Columbus Day, maybe Canadian Thanksgiving Day, maybe the teachers just got lazy. It all depends on who you ask.)

But anyway- a Friday with no school. Should be super exciting, right? Want to know what I did?

I woke up at 8:00. There's my first problem. Why did I not sleep in? Good question.

At 9:30 I headed over to the school. (Yes, there was no school. But I went to school on a Friday anyway.) And helped Student Council paint a bunch of blocks of wood that we'll use in the Fun Fall Festival- a traditional carnival sort of thing my school does every year.

We painted until around 12:00 or 1:00, and then headed across town to help with the Junior Senior class garage sale. That ended about 2:00, and I decided to stay at a friend's house for a while longer before going home, but I didn't think to call home, and my mom showed up to pick me up a couple minutes later.

So after a little "I-never-get-to-hang-out-with-my-friends-I-don't-even-have-any-friends-why-does-everybody-hate-me-I'm-so-hormonal-and-way-overreacting" breakdown, I took a long shower and then went to go get crepes and coffee with my mom.

And now I'm home- still feeling a little bit sorry for myself- and wishing I could at least watch a movie. But we have a pathetic movie selection, and the guy's action racing movie that my dad rented doesn't sound appealing. I'm emotional and lonely, I need a chick flick, not an action, duh!

Oh boy. I guess my rant is over.

On the plus side- since there's always got to be a glass-half-full side of things- I did write a satire about technology, and a blog entry, and did some reviews on that writing website I mentioned way back when.

And I have been reading, a new John Green book called Looking for Alaska, and while it definitely isn't as good as The Fault in Our Stars and I don't think it will make my favorites, it's still a good book and an interesting read.

So yeah. The end.

Ugh. And I'm too lazy to even add in pictures like I normally do. Well, actually, it's not laziness, it's just that we're about to start watching that guy's action racing movie.

Okay, okay, now it really is the end. (Except, "okay", Fault in Our Stars, I'm going to cry again!)

The Struggles of a Writer

And the struggle continues.

I still want more than anything to just go sit down and finish these last thirty-some pages of Shadow Whispers, just be done with it, you know? So that I can move on to the next stage and not be so consumed by this novel.

Yet I cannot just "go write."

Okay- distractions are certainly a part of my lack of words, but I promise that isn't all of the problem. See, for this stage of editing I need to read out loud. And maybe I'm just carping, but I can't stand the idea of reading my story out loud to myself while my parents are in the kitchen making dinner.

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I just. I don't like the idea of other people hearing me while I read.

Not yet. Eventually I'll be at that point where I will want to read it out loud to people, but not yet. Not yet.

Soon, maybe, if I can make myself find time to edit. I keep staying up past 11:00 (my preferred bedtime is about 9:00, to put it into perspective.) And wondering why I am so tired at school the next day. And then, of course, my family has to listen to my Piano Guys music that drowns out my voice while I read.

Let's just say that someday I will have a separate room or cabin or something where only I am allowed to go, and where all I do is write, write, write. Or read, or edit.

Writing Cabin? I guess I'm not the only one with this idea.

You get the point, though. I need a space of my own, a space set apart entire for words.

Maybe I am just rambling. I probably am.
I just... I'm consumed. I'm infatuated. I'm obsessed.

The Whisperers are taking over my life, or at least trying to- every part of myself that isn't already overruled by school and friends and movies and books and foods and internet and whatever other distractions always lurk nearby threatening to take away my writing.

Now I definitely am just rambling. I apologize. I am a writer, though, after all.

Taught to Teach

How in the world do you go about teaching English to a bunch of kids (seven of them, to be exact) ranging from ages 4 to 7, some of whom know absolutely no English and some of whom have taken classes and know the basics.

It's tough, trust me.

This teaching thing is the latest big thing in my life, right now, and it's a lot of work. I mean, I never wanted to be a teacher, that was always my sister's dream, not mine. And I'm not complaining; it really isn't so bad, but it isn't my ideal job.

I just...

I can't discipline.

The kids are all running all over the place screaming and I'm just standing in front, "so this color is red..." and I feel like none of the kids are even listening.

Stress

It's stressful.

Plus, it's one more thing to add to my busy schedule, one more thing to take away my precious writing time.

However, things are definitely shaping up, and- I think- can only get better from here on out. For one, my dad is back from his trip back to the USA, and so he'll be teaching the older group (from ages 11 to 13) leaving me with the younger ones and a lot less variety.

Plus, now I know who the kids are and know what level each one is at. (Well, theoretically at least.)

And, someone came over on Saturday to teach me how to teach. He showed me the basic lesson plan I need to have and even set up a Word document that I could fill out before each class.

I think I can handle this now. Oh, and get paid for the first week helped too, I must admit.

Now I just need to figure out how to juggle all of this. School, Romans on the Roof, Student Council, Junior/Senior beach trip fundraisers, English classes, Reading, and of course, Writing.

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I don't know how I'm going to do it. But I've survived high school so far. I can hold on for another semester, right? I'm one fourth of the way done, anyway. Yeah, right? Half way through first quarter, two quarters in a semester.... yeah, one fourth of the way through.

Just three more fourths. I can totally do this, right?

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