Have I told you guys the joke about the three holes in the ground filled with water?

Well, well, well…

Alright now that that’s out of the way, let’s get started.

So this is one of two places (not counting people) where I vent my frustrations; the other is a small white journal I keep on me most of the time. Weirdly, I’ve started to separate out what I write there, and what I write here, although both are supposed to serve the same purpose. In the book, I address everything to an old friend of mine who passed a while back. I talk to him about the same kinds of things we would have talked about when he was here – which is just about everything. Emotions, sex, homework. All of it. The thing is, though, I write in the same way I’d vent: I complain with no intent of solving the problem. It’s essentially treating the symptoms, not the disease. Here, I give it all up. I don’t just say, “I’m frustrated because none of my relationships are working out,” I say, “I’m really confused about my sexuality, mainly because I know I’m attracted to women, I’m just not sure I’m attracted to men, or even if I ever truly was, and I was just feeling / behaving that way because it’s what I believed I was supposed to do.” I prefer it that way. There’s only one place in my life where I have to be brutally honest with myself.

Today’s going to run on the simpler and softer side of things, mainly because there are a lot of things I’m still mulling over in my mind that I’m not ready to say or write out loud just yet. I have a girlfriend now. That’s a thing that happened. I’m headed back to Oklahoma for the summer in a week. Finals are over. My sophomore year of college is all wrapped up. I also submitted an application to the University of Iowa.

Transferring is something that’s been on my mind for a minute now, but this is the first time I’ve taken a step towards doing so. I love the family I found at Coe, but to be honest, this school kind of sucks in a lot of different ways. The class load is unreal, the mental and physical health resources are almost nonexistent, and the cost is through the roof. The professors I’ve had (mostly) are fantastic, and I adore a good percentage of the faculty, but the fundamental issues I’ve seen are detrimental to the students. I’m better off somewhere else, somewhere where the pressure to succeed is less terrifying. I’m afraid that if I stay here to get my teaching degree, by the time I do, I won’t want to be a teacher anymore. I don’t want to hate the thing I love.

I guess all I’m saying is that I’m done doing the things I think I should be doing, whether it’s behaving more heteroflexible than anything else, or going to the expensive college so that people will think my degree means more. I’m just going to do what’s good for me – whatever that means. You should, too.