Summer plans and such.

I feel a bit like a [insert word from Miracle Worker] freak. Here I am at babysitting, and what did I bring with me? My knitting, the rest of the [Insert word for chunk of yarn here] of yarn that I have to untangle, a book, my French work. The only redeeming item I brought with me is my MacBook. At least I have some…bit of that “chic, sit-in-a-coffee-sho-typing-on-my-macbook-sipping-a-cappucino, urbanite” aura. I don’t think I mentioned that before--the other day, I was talking to three of my friends, only one of which I have had relatively deep discussions with, and they all pegged me for that type of Carrie Bradshaw-esque (sex and the city) person. That’s how I sort of hope to be in college, or even late high school; nobody had ever mentioned it before. I recounted this story to Dan, and also told him that I thought it funny that the girls I don’t know well totally pegged that and talked about it, whereas the people I knew really well never said a word of it. Dan replied: “Well, of course we don’t mention it. It goes without saying. That’s just who you are.” It feels good to have the way you see yourself be the same as what the people around you see you as. Confidence building. It tells you that you aren’t fooling yourself into thinking you are a certain way. Which is great for me these days. A nice change, you know?

So where was I? Oh right, freak. Anyway, knitting? I pulled it out in Bio the other day (we finished early) and I got a combination of odd looks and laughter. Not laughter at me, just chuckling at my..something. I forgot what she said. Cute maybe. Am I supposed to be rejoicing because I am considered cute when I knit? Whatever. Better than mockery. Even then I wouldn’t care. I love knitting. My scarf is hideous though. Lumpy, with holes where I dropped stitches, and strings hanging off where the yarn broke and I had to tie two pieces together. It is my first in a while, so I guess it’s understandable…the next one will be loads better. Yay.
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This book is amazing. As I was rushing out the door to meet the woman I was babysitting for, I was trying to hastily make a decision as to which book I was going to bring: Under the Tuscan Sun, or Eat, Pray, Love. Both of them seem sort of similar…self discovery and adventure when traveling in a new country, but somehow I tend to think that Eat, Pray, Love (the one I ultimately chose) will be…deeper. Both will be read eventually.

I have been thinking about what I will do with my time this summer. Last summer, I just sort of coasted through. And by coasting, I mean sitting up until all hours in my room watching Grey’s Anatomy, Season 2 twice. It depressed me; I have a dark room. I can’t go into a new crazy intense school, into High School, with that kind of attitude behind me. I have decided that it will be a cleansing, relaxing, and enlightening summer. I will complete my reconstruction of myself. The things that pop out to me when I think about this are: reading books on my book list (specifically ones that will probably not be read at a sophisticated prep school, for example, Under the Tuscan Sun), watching all the old movies I want to watch in order to find my cinematic inspiration, and losing 10-15 pounds. I will probably end up cutting that number back to 5-10 when the times come, but every bit helps.I have an image of myself getting all these movies and watching them while on the treadmill in the basement. I mean, we have to get all the movies, and the treadmill first, but whatever, we’ll do it. Then I will sit down, have some iced tea, and read a good book. I will also learn to sew my own clothes, go blueberry picking, and create a new wardrobe for school. Dan will be coming to camp with me. His parents will send him up early so that I can show him around Northampton. That should be fun. I told him I would take him blueberry picking.

I was thinking about what we talked about, with the impulsiveness thing. And I realized that it’s not that im not impulsive. I just plan my weirdnesses…ok. That made no sense, I admit it. Let’s change impulsive to…adventurous? Quaintly adventurous…that will have to do for now. Here’s what I mean: Jen will see a tree and say, “I want to climb that tree.” Then she will do it. I will think to myself, “Wouldn’t it be fun to climb that tree? But it would be bad, that’s city property. I’ll wait until I’m back at my uncle’s house in the country to climb trees.” I see beading stores across the street and decide to make necklaces. I got blueberry picking. It’s not like I live a frigid life, doing homework, practicing music. I mean, yes, sometimes that is almost all my day consists of, but that is also partially my inability to drive to said blueberry farm. No, I would not just jump into a lake with all my clothes on if I happened upon a lake. But I would consider it. I’d think twice.

I know what to call it: Cautiously adventurous.

Sometimes I feel like I am one big oxy moron. Sometimes with emphasis on moron.