The Mouse That Roared

Fifty three days until Stella hits the City of Lights.

I can’t honestly believe this is happening. God is working, he’s paving my way for me, and I honestly cannot believe that it’s happening. I’ve wanted to go to Paris since probably about the seventh grade. And now I’m going. I’m going to Paris, to study at the Sorbonne. The reality of it is slowly trickling in. I’ll be attending two different campuses there; one is the Sorbonne, and the other is a branch of Northern Illinois University, located adjacent to the Bastille. The Bastille! Oh, it’s a Mizzie’s dream! And even if I’ve almost left that part of my life, it still resonates deeply inside of me.

Paris. Paris!

On another note, I’m not really one to go out and tout music like it’s my job. Words are more my business, and I’m not the sort of person who prides herself on having an extensive knowledge base of artists and songs, etc. But the Rev introduced me to this here song, and I thought I’d share it, because I like it that much. Enjoy.

I apologize for my whining as of late. I really don’t mean it. I’m just frustrated.

I blame it on the weather.

I just watched Bridget Jones’s Diary for the first time.

Once again, the embers of my heart have been stirred into baby flames by a man called Darcy, and I fear this for certain means one thing.

If I ever get a cat, his name is to be Mr. Darcy.

I’m beginning to have spinster cat woman premonitions again. And I fear it. I do fear it.

I’m tired of being dumpy and short and nerdy with a poor complexion, and even worse social skills. Where has my motivation gone, and my ambition? What about the self-confidence that I once thought I had?

Why is it that I can’t feel beautiful sometimes? Why is it that there are days when I look in the mirror and I see nothing that anyone could possibly want? I don’t want to be this way. I’m messy and I’m lazy and I spend money that I don’t have and I snore and I pull on my hair and I make plans, I make all of these plans in an effort to find myself, when I don’t even know what I’m looking for.

I have never been anything but loved in my entire life, so why do I still feel this way? What am I looking for?

I write too many questions, and not enough answers.

“I want you to promise me, O women of Jerusalem, not to awaken love until the time is right.” - Song of Songs 8:4

Well, I want to know when that’s going to be. I want to know when that’s going to be! Tell me, God! Is it going to be once I learn to keep my room clean? Is it going to be once I learn to loosen up around men? Is it going to be once I start going to the gym again, or once I start taking school seriously again, or once I read more books or speak more languages or go more places or do more things? What, what, what do I have to do to be loved? To be wanted? To be sought out?

I am more than halfway terrified of one day becoming what I’m afraid of being.

I think I’m halfway terrified of becoming what I might be able to be one day.

And I wish that loneliness wasn’t such a big part of my life right now.

On the other hand, the better hand, I got a note from my Creative Writing professor tonight that said, “It’s obvious from the work you’ve turned in this quarter that you are not only a talented writer, but someone who revises and crafts your work. You also have an understanding of the human psyche and how that works in fiction. Thank you for your stories.”

That made me smile a lot.

Granted, he went on to fill the rest of the page with ideas on how I can improve, but all the same. That paragraph makes it worth it. I sent him a thank you note.

I don’t know why I’m so shy about my work. I even use a fake name here, even though I think most of the people who read this know who I am. It’s just one of those things, I guess.

I wish that jealousy wasn’t such a big part of my life, too. Because jealousy is possibly the worst companion to have when lonely.

And yet, I know that the next chapters hold something for me. I just don’t know what.

I am so terribly disappointed in myself.

Last night, I prayed that Jesus would help me get up this morning. That I wouldn’t sleep through my alarm. And thank you, Lord, I didn’t. In fact, it woke me up at 7:30, 7:45, 7:50, and 8:00.

I ignored it and went back to sleep for another hour and a half, waking up at 9:31, and I have class at 10:00. In a disgruntled flurry, I was out of bed, down to the bathroom, trying to get ready. And then I get back to my room, see that the clock says 9:53, and I say screw it. And so I climb right back into bed. Just for a little while, I tell myself. Just for a little bit. I still have class at 11:00, even though I hate that one because the professor is a dirty old man, and French at 12:00.

I just woke up about 15 minutes ago. That would be about 12:30.

What is the matter with me? Where is the girl who loves school? What happened to the girl who wanted to do well? Is she here at all anymore?

I can’t even write. I can’t think. I’m all foggy from something. I have no motivation, and a very strange, sharp pain keeps coming up in my lower left abdomen.

I just don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want to be motivated. I want to be an example. I want to pursue the blessings that God has given me. Right now, I feel like he’s given me all these gifts and I’m just letting them sit there, right in front of him. I’m being ungrateful. Ingratitude is the worst. I have become the worst.

When it comes down to it, it’s because I’m a lazy person. And all laziness is just somatic selfishness.

When will I learn that my life is not my own? Why hasn’t that lesson taken root yet? I want to be different. I don’t want to be the girl who skips all of her classes and then sits in her messy room, eating a roll of Chips Ahoy for lunch. Because that’s me right now. And it’s pretty pathetic.

It’s like the question, “If a tree falls in a wood, and there’s no one to hear it, does it still make a sound?” But this time, it’s, “If no one sees a girl, is she really there at all?”

I’m lonely. I can’t hide it. And so I hide myself.

I hate being invisible, and yet, I’m terrified of being seen.

It doesn’t make any sense, and I know it. But I’m scared. The whole “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” thing rings true to me.

I don’t want to be some passive girl. I don’t want to be the sort who sits at home and waits by the window for her Prince Charming to ride up. And so I go out, I go out into the world and I blaze through it. Either I hide, or I move through so fast that all I am is a blur, and there’s nothing to be seen.

Why am I so complicated? And why can’t I control the way I feel, my fears? It’s silly and unfounded, because I know, I know that I’m not ready for anything yet. I feel as if there are two thunderheads in my chest. I’m going to implode at any moment.

I’m an Ugly Rapunzel. I want to escape, and yet, I’m terrified of not being good enough for anyone. Girls are lavish with compliments, but I know how that works. So often, we just say things to build one another up. And while it’s nice, it would be better if it were true. And while Fauxhawk has been telling me that I’m pretty lately, I think he’s just doing it to make Longshanks jealous, or something. I don’t really know what goes on in that head of his.

The short of it is, I’m lonely, I’m afraid, and I’ve been turning to Chips Ahoy for comfort, and I doubt that’s going to get me anywhere I want to go.

Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t I just know what happens in the upcoming chapters? Do I have anything at all to look forward to?

I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to sit alone and cry. I don’t want to feel unloved. And I feel like my faith should be stronger than this feeling of inadequecy, of loneliness. “I will be with you always.” Why doesn’t that comfort me the way I think it should?

I am invisible. I am afraid of being seen. Why is this so complicated?

This morning, I woke up at 11:06. This was after my roommate came into my room and said, “You’d better get up, or you’ll miss class. Oh wait… you already are. It’s after 10.”

I missed two of three classes today, and was late to the one I made it to.

Jesus, I need to learn motivation and time management.

I could rationalize it and all, and say that I just needed sleep because I had a long day yesterday. I left the house at 8:45 and didn’t get back home until 10:15 at night. But really… that’s my own fault, too. I had a whole week to do what I did yesterday, and I still cram it all in to one day. And as a result, the story isn’t what it could have been, and I’m going to have to deal with the embarrassment of my peers’ critiques. *sigh*

I don’t know what it is. I *wanted* to get to bed early last night, because I wanted to be up by 7:30 to take a shower, proof the Rev’s paper, and get to class on time.

I’m very proud of myself for being able to answer the Rev’s grammar questions while half asleep. But that’s beside the point.

The point is, that I need to find motivation. I need to find the drive to get to class, to put everything into my education that I should be putting into it.

What is it going to be like in Paris? Come on now, Stella. Get on the ball!

I need to find that spark. I need something.

I’m beginning to think/realize that the expectations I have for certain people (if not all people) are just too high.

I fear I may be doomed to disappointment for the rest of my life.

Every night, I go to sleep holding a pillow.

How much longer does it just have to be a pillow?

I know I’m only 20, and I don’t want to be impatient. But… but I want to be loved!

I want to be loved.

I blame it all on the Messrs. Darcy and Rochester. Entirely their fault, it is. I have absolutely no control over it.

Perhaps I merely long for the sulky and unattainable, but mystery enthralls me. Darkness and fury hiding behind clear eyes… oh, I love it.

Isn’t it the dream of every girl to be the sole love of a man? The one and only who can stir his heart into passions he never imagined he would feel again, or ever? What woman doesn’t want to be the one to shake him, to put him so far out of his element with a simple look of your eyes that only you could put him back into it again?

Perhaps these are selfish desires and I should not have him. Perhaps it’s merely another reflection of how I’m simply not ready yet. But I want that intense love, to know that I am the only one.

Maybe some day. For now, I’m simply going to lust over Mr. Darcy some more.