I have made a lot of decisions lately.

I'm back in school. I signed up for one online class this semester. In doing so, I learned that my college credits from 8 years ago are totally still good, so I have a lot less school to get through before I begin the courses for my major.

My major is Veterinary Technology. It's a far cry from English with Teaching Certification, but is something I've come back to more times than I can count as a potential career path.

Something I learned a long time ago is nothing gets done unless you actually do it. I can't seem to ever be certain about my future, so I came to the conclusion that my best option is to just do something anyway. I'm getting too old to fuck around anymore.

I became a vegetarian (read: lacto-ovo), for similar reasons, and have found that personally, it is an easy choice for me, but there are just as many others who have difficulty understanding why I would choose such a lifestyle. These same people keep telling me shit like, "hurhur, we'll see how long THAT lasts."

Hurhur, you don't know me very well, asshat.

I needed something to believe in, something to be passionate about, and there's very little in my life right now that I can muster more than apathy for.

Apathy is unacceptable. Change is attractive.

I used to be unable to define myself; I had no defining characteristics. I had no characteristics that I felt were worthwhile. I would ask, "who am I?" and have no answer. Recently, I asked myself that question again, and came up with the following disjointed and meandering jumble of thoughts.

I work 50 hour weeks, and I feel like I fell into my job accidentally. I am expected to be a leader, but I have no idea how or any desire to lead. I often think others think I am stupid because of the things I say. In my mind's eye, I am an idealized and blemish-free version of myself, and I am almost always surprised and disappointed by what looks back at me from mirrors. I hum and whistle and sing a lot, and I wish I had the fortitude to learn guitar or violin. As a teenager, I would listen to songs in my bedroom on repeat and cry until dawn. I still listen to songs on repeat. I worry that I am programmed to sabotage my relationships, and I wish that I could be nice and not get annoyed, but I find it impossible to change that about myself. I have no idea how to make others certain that I respect them. I am an irritating busybody, and I often feel like I have to give advice, although I know there is nothing that qualifies me to do so. I am terrified out of my mind about going back to school. My career plans are uncertain, but it doesn't matter; I simply got to the point where the choice was to pick a major or stay exactly where I was for the rest of my life. I feel like my brother won't get to have a full life because of his handicap and our mother. I have no idea what one should hope for from a "full life." I have a lot of trouble sleeping at night and have to occasionally take sleeping pills. My brain won't go off until I'm bone tired. My eyes always want to explore the dark, and they invent things to see out of nothing. I have never faked an orgasm. I do think about dying sometimes, but never for very long because I'm not sure what I believe comes after. I really wish I'd never had sex with A___ with B___, and sometimes I wonder what exactly happened in my brain and heart when he told me he fucked her without me there. I think people mostly reap what they sow. I sometimes fantasize about having some kind of accident or illness or becoming a domestic terrorist or just leaving this country--basically something that removes me from regular society. I don't trust cops or politicians or anyone, but I tend to believe what people tell me. I take people at face value. I love being sad--I mean I love being made to empathize with the emotional ache that actors or musicians try to convey. Make me cry! Please! I need it like you wouldn't believe. I like being happy, but I always resent myself for it. I don't watch or read the news, and when I hear the media's take on current events, it makes me boil with rage. I like floral patterns. I hate the way people let their children act. The jury's still out on whether I want children of my own. Why wreck a kid's life before I get mine figured out? I'm also worried that my reproductive system will kick the bucket before I even get the chance to use it--family history. B___ thinks I have a set of ethics in which I do no harm not because it is morally good to do so, but because the harm I might cause is contrary to an established law or rule. I think it's because I'm afraid of losing what minuscule amount of freedom I possess. I love cardigans. There is precious little I treasure above music and solitude. I can't really get along with my mother in person and our relationship has never been stronger than it is with 400 miles between us. I'm really, honestly obsessed and in love with Ted Leo's music, and I can't think of much besides the fact that I'll actually get to see him live soon. I'm concerned that my ability to maintain my levels of stress and anxiety is declining. I write a lot of stories that I give up on finishing because I can't pin down their evolution. I used to write a lot more often; I had literature in school and being miserable as sources of inspiration. I don't think that the people I want to like me actually like me. I used to bite my nails all the way down. When I get stoned, my teeth feel really big, and it seems like nothing beyond my scope of vision exists at all; I feel like if I lean back, I might just fall into the void. I love marijuana, but I'm probably too old and square to use it. Most of the people I know are much younger than I am. I love listening to music deafeningly loud. I hate drinking alcohol. It usually makes me sick right off the bat, but on those rare occasions that my body will actually let me drink to excess, I pay for it by vomiting for the entire next day. Gatorade makes it all okay. I hate my body hair; it's excessive and dark brown and prickly and godawful. I miss Dr. JB's class, and I often think of sending him a card. What would I say? "I bet you had high hopes for me. Well, I manage a restaurant and only just now, at the age of 26, decided I have to shit or get off the pot. I remember, in spite of the years, the way you taught me. It was the first time learning was more than the facts and the literature. You taught us how to explore and attempt to understand ourselves and our place in the world. Thank you. I'm not all I expected, and I can't claim that I ever expected much, but I know what I believe and who I respect, and you're still at the top of that list." It'd go something like that, I suppose. I get annoyed with sentimental people. I keep that shit to myself, why can't they?

Et cetera ad nauseum.

When I get into my car every day, I usually just want to drive until I run out of road.