Going to a school like Carleton can really give a person a complex. Everyone here is really good at something. And slowly but surely, I'm coming to realize that the things that I was "really good at" in high school just aren't impressive anymore...because everyone is better.

I can't get involved with the theatre department here because although I was told so many times that "everyone gets cast!" at Carleton, and that our theatre department is really not all that stellar, guess what? I haven't gotten cast in anything. Student directed, performing groups, faculty directed... I haven't even gotten a single callback. I had auditions this weekend that I didn't make (again), and last term auditioned for literally a dozen things that I didn't make either. I was always told that I was a strong writer in high school, and now am finding that professors don't necessarily always hold that opinion. I feel like everyone here plays a sport or an instrument or is fluent in another language (or all of the above!), but I'm not athletic and I'm a shitty beginner guitarist and don't understand French. And on top of that, everyone is nice and charming and intelligent. Meanwhile, I feel unattractive and I'm struggling with problem sets for an hour longer than my friends, and can't even figure it out after asking them dozens of questions.

Don't get me wrong. I love Carleton. I'm still of the opinion that it's the best place on Earth, and I'm grateful that it's stretching me in directions I never thought I'd have to reach. But...feeling like you aren't good enough all the time is pretty exhausting.

I haven't updated in so long!

It's winter break. I've been home for almost a month now...I really didn't expect to miss school this much. It's really nice to see my family and friends, and Thanksgiving was delicious, and I'm really excited for Christmas, but still. I miss my dorm, I miss my friends, I miss Northfield.

I've mostly been sitting at home watching Friends, playing guitar, eating too much junk food, and reading Harry Potter (on the 4th book now...I doubt I can finish all 7 before I get on the plane Jan 2nd, but I'm going to try nonetheless. If I can get up to the 6th then I can bring the 7th one back to school with me). I want to continue playing guitar, it's a lot of fun. I'm not very good, but hey...at least I enjoy it :) I'm going to try to take some classes spring term, but I'm going to see how self-teaching goes for winter term, at least.

I get back to Carleton in two weeks! So excited.

Ugh. Too much going on lately. Measure for Measure closed yesterday, so at least I have that time back to myself. I have to write a 6 page paper for Wednesday (although I am almost halfway done) on the depiction of black women in film. The problem with that one is that I've used up 90% of my outline on the first three pages. Approximately 1,000 words left to go and little to actually write on. I also need to finish reading the Tempest (47 pages left to go) by Tuesday, memorize 14 lines of Shakespeare, and probably start studying for finals.

Stressful. The past two weeks have been crazy. I need to lock myself in the libe tomorrow evening. I have work right after I get out of class, but 5pm on will definitely be time for me to bond with the library. Speaking of studying: the weather has been SO nice lately. When it's above 55, the Bald Spot becomes the new libe. So many people were outside sitting under trees this afternoon in shorts and t-shirts working. It was beautiful :)

Connor, Tyler, Anna, and I are having "No Drink 9th Weekend" and spending this next weekend completely sober...a feat for a small liberal arts school, but definitely a wise choice. So I'm anticipating Semaphore (dance show), Knightingales concert (a cappella), bad movies, and probably too much Bejeweled. I'm looking forward to it. :)

I go home two weeks from Tuesday. I'm glad to be able to see my friends and family (and I miss my little sister Ellen SO much) but I'm going to miss school so much. I'm also afraid of forgetting all the French I know between Thanksgiving and New Year's. That could be a problem.

The weird thing is that change feels natural to me...until I start to think about. In the moment, I'm fine. I have friends here and I have my lovely roommates and floormates, who are great. I stay in touch with my friends from home, but not necessarily on a daily basis. Most of the connection we have now is through a really long, drawn-out facebook thread of messages between us. I don't see a problem with studying French in the 2nd Burton lounge or reading plays for David Wiles or hanging out in Sayles with Emily and Connor.

But then sometimes I start thinking, and it's thinking that screws everything up. I miss my best friends, the people to whom I could tell everything and not even have to worry about whether or not they'd judge me or be offended or understand what I mean, because they wouldn't and they wouldn't and they would. I miss having my own room, even if sometimes it meant sleeping on the couch when it got too cold. I miss thinking that 50 degrees is "cold." I miss sunshine. I miss my mom.

I don't know what I want to do with my life anymore. I did a year ago. I was convinced I knew what was right and couldn't possibly go down another track. Now I'm not so sure. I came in here planning to do a major in theatre with a concentration in educational studies. I don't think that's going to work out for me. I don't know what is. I've wanted to be a teacher since my sophomore year of high school, and even before that, I wanted to be in theatre. Now I don't know if I want to be in theatre. If I do, I don't know if I want to teach it. And if I do want to teach it, I have to major in English. I don't know if I have the confidence to major in English. Or the skill. I'm doing fine in my Shakespeare class but I can't figure out 150 intelligent words to say about Othello right now, which is frustrating. I wish it came naturally. Sometimes I wish I had gone to journalism school. Sometimes I realize that's an incredibly idiotic idea.

I miss life being simple(r).

Oh man. I had my first very drunk college night this weekend. I really don't drink much (who needs the calories?!) but I'm an incredible lightweight.

Saturday was the Ebony performance followed by the first Sayles Dance of the year. Ebony is a student run, no experience necessary dance group that I was a part of this term and it's super fun. I did a dance to Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA" as well as "Jai-Ho" from Slumdog Millionaire... Sayles Dances are basically excuses for everyone to get really drunk and grind on random acquaintances. So...that's exactly what I did. Not necessarily what I should have been doing with my Saturday night in a responsible world, but it was fun nonetheless. Although I apparently ran around telling everyone that I made really bad decisions all night. (My decisions weren't all that bad, but drunk Holly thinks everything is a lot worse than sober Holly realizes they are.)

I have a French test tomorrow and an Othello quiz, but of course I've sat in the 2nd Burton lounge for the last two hours talking to floormates and reading People instead. I think this is really the worst choice I've made in a long time, not my drunken misadventures on Saturday. Oops?

I've been here for six weeks already. It's kind of unbelievable, to be honest. Some mornings I'll wake up and feel like I'm home--like I've been here forever--but other times it feels like my family just drove away and like I have no idea what I'm doing here or where anything is.

I really do love it here though. I mean, I have friends; I don't have best friends, but friends nonetheless. It's weird to look at people who are already in relationships or have unbelievably tight groups of friends. There are definitely people I enjoy spending time with, but then at the same time, I can't imagine ever getting as close to them as I am to the core. I definitely have fleeting moments of loneliness when I realize that the friends I do have are all closer to other people than they are to me. But I figure that's normal and I'll eventually find my groove. I mean, the core happened junior(?) year of high school. I can't expect my first two months in a new state to immediately produce people who love me.

I cut about six inches of my hair off. It felt like time for a change.