Almost holiday time. :)

It is one week until Christmas. Which is good.

Except, I'd forgotten how hard it could be to wait for Christmas....

Especially if everyone has gone home to their families except for you. (and a grumpy roommate that hates your guts.)

Being stuck here isn't really my favorite.

because I'm lonely,

and hungry,

and out of food.

Plus, if that's not bad enough, the water's been shut off due to a leak. From now on, if I have to wash my hands, brush my teeth, or pee- I'll have to trek through snow, cold and moldy dead leaves to get to the nearest working bathroom.

up hill both ways. (ok, not really.)

On the bright side... its only thee more days until I can leave.

and the only reason I'm here is because I've been blessed with a job- which is paying for my school, and my home (which at least has heat- if not water.) and the food that I hopefully will soon have...

Plus I'm pretty sure that once I'm home- this will be the most fantastic Christmas Break ever- Time with my family (FINALLY!), a trip to see my dad, a date with an intriguing gentleman, cookies, a Christmas tree that survived a recent wind storm, Christmas Music, a visit to the bird refuge with my most favorite person ever, and time to watch LOST.

(yes. I confess. I've allowed myself to start watching LOST. which could be really bad.. considering the rumors that it's the most addicting show on the planet... eep!)

Anywho. I'm pretty sure I'll survive.

Improvement.

I kind of have this habit of worrying a lot.

like- to the point of ridiculousness.

Its almost like I've convinced myself that if I waste my time worrying about something long enough, it's less likely to happen- or that if I think about a problem to the point of almost making myself sick- then it'll somehow vanish and get better.

I think I'm living a delusion...

And its not like this is a new thing- Even when I was really little, people told me I worried too much. For example: at the age of 5, I went to my mother with a very serious question.

"Mommy? Does having babies hurt?"

Apparently, not only do I worry excessively, but also a lot in advance...

By now, you are probably thinking I'm some sort of mental case, and that I ought to get help or counseling or something-But for the record- I have gotten better!!

Promise.

Because about a year ago- i had an epiphany. thanks to a good friend and a comic strip.

It was lunch time- I was eating a peanut butter sandwich in Luke's car, and worrying. and he knew I was worrying- He has this theory, that I always scratch my knee when I'm stressed; Which is only right part of the time. most of the time. He pointed this out- and at first I denied it, but then he started laughing, and then I got all defensive-which kind of made it all come out..

"What if I never see you again after high school?! Will we be able to stay friends? What If I can't make new friends, and Logan never talks to me,and my roommate hates me? What if I can't even get into college? What if I fail the studio art Test? If I fail then I can't go into art-and that's all that I'm good for, and now I'll have to go live in a card board box! GOSH, even if I do get into a school- how on earth am I going to pay for it?? My whole life is doomed!"

at this point, I was out of breath, close to tears, and had practically scratched a hole in my pant leg.

Luke chuckled.

"Have you ever read Pickles?"

"huh?"

"The comic strip- It made me think of you."

Thanks Luke. Thanks.

On the bright side though- It kind of helped me realize how silly it is to worry all the time. I need to give myself a break.

I'm seeing a pattern here...

I just met another strange man in the library. 

It was the typical "Oh, hello, care if I sit here?" type of thing- followed by five minutes of ignoring each other, before a"So, What are you working on?" and a "What was your name again?"

Again? did I say my name before?

He then decided we were friends.

This is the Fourth time this has happened. (Except I can't really count one of them because it happened on a bus, instead of  at the library.) I hope this isn't becoming a habit...

Its not like I ask for it! I'll just be sitting there, minding my own business- when suddenly-
  "Hey there! Judging by the giant textbook and concentrated look on your face, you must be dying for a conversation! let me just take a chunk out of your study time for some lively conversation!"

To be quite honest, in the past, underneath all the oddness- I found it flattering.

However, I've since realized there are only two likely outcomes for something like this, and none of them desirable: 

1. He falls madly in "like" with you, when you aren't at all interested, and ends up trying (or succeeding) in dragging you along with him to a Halloween Party, or Rock climbing... or something. And then you feel bad. Because he isn't your type. or because he sort of kind of reminds you of this kid you used to hate...
2. He finds out you're a Freshman. The end.

(For the record though, it is possible to get a combination of the two- it usually results in a fantastic misunderstanding and you feeling stupid... that's the worst kind.)

Luckily for me in this instance- today was a case #2.

Case #2's always play out the same way.

Always.

"So, What are you majoring in?"

"Art. I'm thinking Illustration."

"Oh that's neat- I'm majoring in blablabla."

(in this instance it was psychology.)

"That sounds interesting / crazy / cool."

"Yeah... I graduate next month / I'm getting my masters / Just got back from my mission.

How long have you been at Utah State?"

This is when I know how the conversation is going to end. every time.

"Oh, this is my first year."

"Oh really? So you're a freshman?" (smile faltering a little)

"Yeah..."

"Did you just graduate high school...?"

"Yup."

(sheepish look completely replaces smile.) 

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

...Silence...

"Well, I've got to be going. It was nice talking to you."

"yup."

Every time.

My cousin had a pretty good solution for this. "Just pretend you thought they were a freshman too."

  "Oh, Really? so you're a freshman?"

"Wait- are you not? So, like you're old?... awkward."

I considered it... But then I remembered that most guys are as sensitive about being called young as they are about their receding hairlines. Plus, I have this absolutely ridiculous case of "Crap, now i have Guilt for being mean.." Good thought though.

Anywho. I think need some comfort food and a good movie. My self esteem is suffering.