I INHALE--

--and with it, take all the stress and emotional turmoil that has harassed me for the past day or so. I let it fill my body, until it seems that I'm going to explode into tears.
Then--
EXHALE
and let it all flow out, leaving my body and my mind and my soul. No stress. Let the understanding fill me. Help the peace calm me.

That first night was tough. Cried just a bit, then realized that I had very little to cry about. It wasn't as if I'd lost him. They were good tears, I've decided. I'm happy that he finally found himself. Proud that he found the courage to do what he did. Glad that we had what time we had together. It was short, but I loved every minute of it.

I've lost nothing. The time wasn't wasted. And I think we may've gotten closer, if anything. I hope we have. He's an amazing friend, and I'm really glad that everything is working out... especially for him.

Of That Which Concerns the Heart...

...Someone should do me a favor. That would be awesome right now.
You, sitting there with your computer. You'll do just fine. Would you do me a favor? It won't take long.

Define 'love'.

Not with a dictionary, not with society's definition. What's your interpretation of this terrible little emotion? I'll give you my idea:

Love is... more than just hugs and shy grins. No, toss that. That's not even love. That's the junior-high description.

Love is adoration, heartfelt caring. Love is being there for that person, no matter what. Love is accepting, love is understanding. Love is wanting the best for that person... no matter what happens. Love is attraction for the person, not their body. Love is.... loving all the little things that makes up a person, all their quirks and flaws and foibles... Love is realizing these things, but loving them anyway. Love is loving... but also knowing when you may have to let go.

....*sigh*....

There's only one direction this is going to go. Might as well get it out and over with.

Yes, I do love him, in the sense that.... well, read it. That's basically the color of my heart right now. I love him, all of him, every little thing about him. And as I'm typing this, I'm hurting. Not because of what may not happen between us, but of what I want for him. He's hurting, and I can see it all too easily. And I don't want him to hurt. It hurts me when he's like this, and I just want the best for him. Even if I'm not in the picture.

And besides...

The heart is genderless. What else can I do but love?
 

...Where's My Fucking Pencil?

...So today was gross, just so everyone knows.
I'm pretty sure I permanently shattered one of the best friendships I've had. And I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind. That, and the weather is screwing with my mood.

I think it's time for some stress relief. Let's break out the feather quill and the parchment paper--or the mechanical pencils and notebook paper--or the laptop and a fresh junkboard blog--and write it all away. Can I start over? Can I make any of this better?

...No?

Peachy.

If you need me, I'll be drowning in ink, with a feather through my temple.

...Happy birthday to... Me...

I read something earlier today that made my heart cry. I wanted to reach out to that person and hold him, to reassure him that everything would be alright, that the world was still worth living in, that not all was lost. He seemed sick of the world in many ways, and it sounded like he had little holding him together save for his own perseverance. Delving deeper into the readings, I found things about the author that I never knew before--things that made me laugh, cry, and hurt for him. One year ago, I would've turned my nose up at some of the things I learned. I would've jumped to conclusions, shied away.

One year does a lot to a person.

I've never really stopped to think about where I could be if things were different. If I hadn't been adopted, I definitely wouldn't be up at UI, pursuing my music. I wouldn't have the amazing friends I have now. I wouldn't be in a relationship like this one. I wouldn't have my music. And to me, it just seems... impossible. I can't see myself without this great experience that's been offered to me. I just... CAN'T. If I still lived in Cali, with my five siblings... what would I be? Who would I be? Would I be doing drugs? Alcohol? Pregnant? A high-school dropout? College dropout? Working two jobs? It's hideous to think about, but the more I think about it, the more it scars me... and the more I'm drawn in.

....Ehh. Shudder-worthy. Subject change.

I'm watching the clock as I'm typing. It's 11:44 PM, Pacific time. I have 21 minutes left of being 18. And I'm pretty sure that this year has been the most amazing. I've found so much about myself--things I never thought would be true about me. It's awesome and terrifying at the same time... I could go on forever about it, but I'm not sure you'd like to hear about the veryvery innerworks of my mind.

Life is just.... holyshit. It's amazing. I love it. I hate it. I wish I could do more. I wish I could realize that it's ME holding myself back. I wish... too much.

Dammit. Is this what happens when you get old? If so, I think I'm going to go fucking insane.

...11:55.

It's a testament to the times, I think, that you guys will be reading my first words as a 19-year-old. Blog. Meh. Good emotional outlet. But I don't dare write everything I want. I'm too afraid. Of what? Don't ask. I can't describe.

My name is Katelynn Inman, and I am eighteen years old.

11:59.

...I love you all. Don't forget that, yes? Yes. I love each of you, more than you know. More than I know.

Hm. Whadda you know...

...My name is Katelynn Inman. I am nineteen years old.

...Love you guys. <3

~The Delicious Randomization That is Me~

I've got way too much time on my hands this weekend... Three days, hm? Da-ang. Looks like I'm gonna hafta bust out the flammables soon, or else I'm gonna run out of things with which to occupy meself...

School finances are nearly ship-shape. Nearly. I've gotta fax my loan paper to mon papo so he can sign them and send them off to Wells Fargo so they can gives the UI moneez for mai schoolin'.

...I'm fairly sure my IQ just shot itself in the foot just then.Yikes.

...So. Walking around campus today was an interesting voyage. Whenever I'd pass someone with a cigarette, I'd catch a whiff of their smoke. big deal, you say. Shrug it off, you say. Any other day, and I would. But today was different. Today when the smoke hit me, it HURT! Like a serious, legitimate, stabbing HOLYMOTHEROFALLF**K it hurt! I figured it was just that once, so I let it slide, but the same thing happened when I walked home from Core class. BAM. Cig' smoke, in yo' face, girly. And it hurtz ya. So now I'm effing paranoid that one of these days I'm going to DIE because I won't be able to BREATHE around these effing SMOKAHZ.

Hm. Subject change.

Jazz Choir is awesome. Have I ever mentioned that before? Because... it is. For serious. Like... DANG, Mr. Bukvich man, you are CRAZY PSYCHO GOOD at this game.

We're singing "The Bells", by Edgar Allen Poe, and it. Is. Kick. Ass. You'd have to hear it to believe how amazing it is, but it's just... wow. Yeah.

-horror-
FLASHBACK!!
So I was thinking of how epically spooky Poe is, and that reminded me of the last time I was epically scare. It was quite recently, actually--during Christmas break. I had gotten SO TIRED of the monotony of being at home in the middle of EFFING NOWHERE, so I made the half-hour drive into town and chilled at the high school. Helped out Mrs. S with directing and fun stuffs as such (STILL NOT GETTING MY TEACHING CERTIFICATE, DAD. GIVE IT UP.), until she told me that there were two flutes in her office that needed some fixing. Me, greatly enjoying any opportunity to figure out what's wrong with an instrument--and consequently whipping it back into shape in a rather unorthodox manner--went to look at said flutes. I opened the case of the first one, took out the body joint--

--AND IT FELL APART IN MY FREAKING HANDS.

Naturally, my reaction was nothing short of OMGWTF mixed in with a little shriek of absolute MISERY. But  ho-ly CRAP that flute was scary. Every key rod was unscrewed. Every spring was useless. And part of me died a little bit at that moment. But I scrounged up a makeshift screwdriver (which was little more than a REALLY sharp blade thingy welded onto a square rod thingy), took out my flute and pieced that bitch back together. And then I did the same thing to the other flute.

....What do those Elementary kids DO to their instruments to make them so.... So... -weeps-

...*cough* And that, ladies and gents, is the delicious randomization that is me. :3

!!Rant Warning!!

If I dropped a college student's financial aid, I'd tell them. Especially if it was a substantial amount.

LIKE 4,200 FUCKING DOLLARS.

*foams at mouth*
Oho, I'm not pissed. I'm beYOND pissed. I am livid. The only reason I'm in school at the moment is because of those scholarships. And HOLYPHUCK, YOU CAN'T JUST DROP THE MONEY WITHOUT TELLING THE STUDENT!!!!!

(insert several minutes of very angry ranting)

...Damn. Life kinda sucks right now. Looks like I'm taking out a loan or SIX. V_V I don't know if the FAFSA will be enough... Damn it all. Fuck my life....
I was RIDING on that scholarship. My college CAREER depended on it. And now I'm all but SCREWED. I've got a week to figure this out, and I'm panicking. H'oDAMN.
Eff. Eff, eff, eff.

Pfffffft.
-deflates-
Eff it all. The next couple of weeks are going to be interesting.

...Oh, and Happy 2010.