week 8: Hannah Pulley

fears: driving in the rain, isolation. oh, and sleep paralysis.

annoyances: bright lights, broken headphones

accomplishments: I got out of bed today. I will be a different person tomorrow.

confusions: this French girl who never answers my skype calls

sorrows: distance, weight, constant awareness of the fact that I stutter only when in front of a large group

dreams: travel, urban life

idiosyncrasies: really late nights, falling asleep in odd places during the day

risks: cliff diving (greatest thing ever), driver’s license (need, actually), more study abroad opportunities (want)

beloved possessions: rock collections (then) music (now)

problems: lack of motivation, anxiety over insignificant things

150+ word freewrite? It's not up there, but I'd like to ramble about fear and change.

Yesterday I broke into Sleeping Bear Dunes national park. It was obvious that the barriers had been moved at least a week ago, for sand had drifted against them, at least a foot high in some places. Someone (I doubt it was a park official) had taped a sign to the guard house that said: hike at your own risk. admission is free, thank the GOP. please consider making a donation to your local food bank or other organization. Obviously, the fifty or so other people who were there were okay with this. Yes, these shutdowns have happened before, according to the news, but the last one was before I was born. The night before that, I was awake until 4 in the morning, laying the biggest bathtub that I have ever seen in a hotel room, surrounded by pillows and the people that know and trust me more than my parents ever would. We watched the closing weekend of the Austin City Limits Festival, commenting on how the change of single word in the chorus of a song eventually changes its entire meaning. I think about how critical thought comes so easily in the early hours of the morning, yet I struggle to produce a response to a similar question during school hours. Yes, the American education could change to become more accommodating to the actual educational needs of students. I could change too. I could wake up and cut my hair, start running again, declare that I do not care about what people think of me. I want to change; I wish to be someone other than myself.

As of this writing, it is Sunday night and most of what has happened in the last five days is tainted with uneasiness. I blacked out this morning standing at the bottom of the hotel stairs, walking to breakfast. The last time that happened, I was on my bike on the side of a rural highway outside of Midway, one week before the end of last school year. I believe that it is part of the human condition to want to change, to be better. I also believe that our only constant is that we are constantly changing, and when we say that we want to change, we mean we want to step off of the figurative treadmill that dictates life, finally having built up the strength to drag said treadmill to the curb. Failure isn't just possibility, it's your next door neighbor. The mass the air on your shoulders can be measured, but not the weight of expectations. Death is riding in the backseat of every car on the highway. I can’t discern if these are changes in surroundings, or just changes in awareness. Was the rest of the world waiting here while I grew up?