Blog Every Day August: 8/7

The saying "I know [blank] like the back of my hand" has always bothered me, if only for the fact that I don't know the back of my hand very well. Until a few months ago, when I started thinking about the saying, I couldn't have told you how many freckles I have on the back of my hand (two on both, in case you were wondering). And I really like my freckles. I've always liked them. Maybe this is not usual. Maybe lots of people know exactly how many freckles are on the backs of their hands and I am an anomaly. But the saying has always bothered me, regardless. It makes me think of the things I am continually realizing about myself for the first time, physical or otherwise. I didn't notice I have a birthmark on the back of my leg until I was about eleven. I have a congenital eye disorder thing I wasn't aware of until kids at school started noticing it and asking me if I "did that on purpose", and even in this I wasn't diagnosed until a year ago. I have a widow's peak and I don't have a hitchhiker's thumb.

The saying makes me feel as if the world at large might know every little thing about themselves when I am still learning things, still pushing unfinished puzzle pieces around and attempting to find a fit. This isn't true, I'm sure. We must/probably all feel this way, to some extent, at some point.

I've never been one for "self discovery" or "finding oneself." However, I have come to believe that there is a lot I haven't fully realized or come to terms with about myself. I talk about thinking and answers and not knowing how to deal with these things a lot here, I know, but it has become a big deal to me in recent months. In the past year I've come to notice how much I actually think, and this--this is a huge realization. I've always liked thinking. As a child I remember receiving an assignment querying us on what we enjoyed most, and my initial response was "I really like thinking. It entertains me and I would miss it if I couldn't." But only now have I started to come to terms with the mass of thoughts and thought processes I am constantly attempting to make sense of.

An example thought process, for the daring: "I really like my new planner. I needed one last year, but they don't give them out at my school like the others. Gricignano di Aversa sucked. Mr. Marlow sucked. Everyone sucked. Dobbin. Dobby. Tea towels. I want to name my treadmill Dobby's Tea Towel. I should blog. I should get a new post it note and--where is my sharpie? I'm almost finished with my Firefly rewatch. That sucks. What will I watch next? I drink a lot of water on the treadmill. I need to get the new water jug out of the car. Ack, wasps outside our house. Seven nests of them. It's hot. I had a dream about those wasps. I wish I'd stop dreaming about Dobbin. I hate Dobbin. He needs to go die. What if I see him again? Would I be calm? Would I cry or give him the finger? I should blog. This blog would be depressing. Oh wait, what? How did I start thinking about Dobbin again? What am I thinking about?" Then I spend five minutes tracing my thoughts back. And most of this goes on in my head without my realizing it. Background thoughts! It's a wonder I get anything done, ever, and can lay claim to any sort of sanity.

This is one of the reasons I appreciate writing so much. My thoughts are slippery, scattered and I lose track of them easily. They stress me out, and often I'm not at all certain why. Basically, I don't like the overall idea of the saying, the idea that I can know everything about even the back of my hand. I don't have to know everything, and I can't know everything, and often I have no control and a deficit of answers. Sometimes, no matter how hard I think or how loud that buzzing gets, I do not hold these elusive Answers within myself.

This blog is leaving me feeling utterly scattered and confused. This is what happens when I try to piece things together logically. So much just can't be, and I get so stuck on what I don't know and how scary it all is. I think so much, so often without deliberate thought, that moving on is not something I can do quickly. Because I'm always thinking. I think things into oblivion, until all I can fathom is how much I don't know and I just want to cry. I think about thinking. I think about not having answers. I think about how little control I have, how little certainty I have. I am left paralyzed and grief-stricken by all of these thoughts, yet I cannot imagine what I would do without them.

Woo, another journey into the great land of my head. Oh dear. Today we went out to lunch at our usual Mexican restaurant, where we go every Saturday. We've gone there regularly since we moved here two years ago, and I love it. The waitresses are really nice and it's one place in this middle-of-nowhere area that we don't feel alienated. At least to them, we belong there. After this we went into San Antonio and picked up my sister's first pair of glasses, which was pretty exciting, and stopped by Office Depot for a minute. I love office supplies dearly, but it reminds me how scary close school is getting, and I can't really purchase any until I actually go to my classes. I did figure out what kind of binder I'll likely want, however, and acquire some pens and tabbed dividers. I also got an adorable planner. I didn't have a planner last year and regretted it, so hopefully it will be a help.

Ohh, panic. I do not look forward to the point in which you set in. Next week orientations start, mine being on Friday. At that point I'll get my school picture taken, my school ID, classes and textbooks. Will I survive? Probably. Will I find myself in an utter panic? Probably. My mother is also going to take in all my pants (yay, staff dress code and the epic nature of resale stores) so I can wear them without appearing as if I am wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs. Which is, you know, pretty preferable.

If this isn't random and confusing I don't know what is. My head is so much fun to live in.