(no subject)
As I sat in the dimly lit Western History History Archive Collection, I dreaded completing the 10th field exercise of the semester. So far, the research has proven to be tedious and pretty boring. I like the kind of research that has meaning, whether it is qualitative or quanitative, it just needs to mean something to the researcher. My assignment, to read the diary of a women that lived in the 1800's. I browsed her diary, smelled the old antiquey kind of smell and thought I would find the same things I have found in the 8 other diaries I have already read, regardless, this was the assignment I had to complete. I had so many things on my mind, nothing to do with the task at hand or my classes, I just couldn't read the journal. Maybe it was the silence in the high ceilinged building, or maybe just the fact that I have so many thoughts flooding my mind that I just couldn't think straight. So, I decided, I couldn't do it anymore, I had to leave. After I signed my life away to the curator of the collection and paid the hefty $50 fee, they photocopied a portion of the diary for me, so I could read it at home. My hour and a half commute provides me with lots of time to think about whatever happens to be prevalent that day. Today, there was a lot going on so instead of thinking I just turned the music up and drowned in the sweet melodies surrounding me. When I pulled up to the apartment, I was not looking forward to the long night ahead of me. I knew it would be a long one, they are all long these days, but for some reason a lot longer the past two nights. My mind has been else where the whole night, not really concentrating on one thing but all the while knowing in the back of my mind that I can't change some things, so, why do I even try. Why even put forth the effort. Long after most normal people go to bed, I still couldn't sleep, so, I decided to do a cycle on my elliptical, a little exercise was bound to tire me out, that was well after midnight. When that didn't work, I decided to pull out the journal of Emily, the 1800's journal I chose to read. I knew that would bore me enough to get me to sleep. I opened up the journal and couldn't put it down. Emily was so unique. So, different than all the others I have read. Instead of writing her daily events, she actually communicated her feelings about those events, trust me, very different from the other 1800's journals. I found Emily may have lived in a very different time, but she still had the same problems. This is what Emily reaffirmed for me, guys are complicated, they just don't get us most of the time. Our communication styles are just different. Second, our girl friends understand us. They get why we do what we do and why we think what we think. Third, change is good. Fourth, don't expect a lot from others then you will never be disappointed. Fifth, good shoes were and always will be expensive, she would choke if she saw the price of my Manolo's especially since she was complaining about $2.67 for her shoes. So, here I sit at 3:37 am, still can't sleep, still can't figure out a way to go back in time, even a couple days would be sufficient; so, I decided to go ahead and give this journal thing a shot. Sure didn't help me sleep but I guess it didn't hurt either. Just not really into opening up or writing my feelings, especially when so many times they are discounted.