More to Life

Despite the 6.5 hours of sleep I got last night--an extreme deviation from my normal summer sleeping habits--today was a great day. And I don't think I've had such a great day in a long time. I woke up early to meet with my old friends at the Minnesota chapter Sierra Club office. That went well.

Then I just chilled out at Barnes and Noble for close to two hours. That was fabulous. I love books. I love book stores, and especially the ones with comfy armchairs, and especially when they're not all uptight about you using them for more than 10 minutes. I've had a $20 giftcard to use at that store for over three months, and I was hoping to finally make good use of it today. But I didn't. I guess I'm just too picky when it comes to the books I buy. I did have fun looking at a couple books, though. One that particularly caught my attention was Join Me, the story of a British "bloke" who, by whimsically placing an ad that read "Join Me" in a British journal, created a mass collective committed to doing good deeds. Blimey, eh? If only it were that easy to accomplish other things...

Then I bought orange juice, two containers of cottage cheese, and a roll of stamps because my mom asked me to. It actually felt really good to finally do something helpful. Maybe it was leftover Join Me vibes. Then I came home and mowed the lawn with my dad (we split, half-half). Then I read a bit from two books I checked out of the library. It's been a long time since I've done something like that, too.

Once my mom finally got home, around 8pm, we went outside to tackle our garden. For the last two years, we've grown various vegetables to varying degrees of success. This year, our gardening efforts, so far, have been kind of shaky. Two of our plants were completely devoured by a local, neighborhood bunny wabbit. A bunch of our flowers just shriveled and died, and we still hadn't planted all of our veggies.

So this evening, Mom and I braved our jungley, mosquito-full backyard like a pair of undaunted pioneers. We pulled out weeds, and dug up the dirt. Then we planted marigolds, dill plants, and sowed a couple rows of okra and radish seeds. Between all the digging and mowing I sure worked up quite a sweat. Oh and the mosquitoes really seemed to enjoy my presence (judging by the number of puffy, red bumps that now dot my body)...

But whatever, it was all worth it, and I'd definitely do it all over again. These are exactly the type of summer experiences and the much needed quality time that I had prescribed to myself at the start of summer. I'm glad I'm finally starting to have some fun, even with my parents around...

I was home for winter break feeling ravaged and torn by a rough first semester and a week of final exams. To celebrate the new year, and the return of their children from their first semester at college, a couple of families got together one night. Not at all opposed to seeing some familiar faces after having spent a few months in a place where everyone was a strange, I showed up with my family to the social gathering. The food was an authentic aberration from dining hall menus. Sounds of laughter and chatter buzzed in the background. I could almost feel my wrapped in the warmth of being around old friends.

The livingroom was filled with people cozied up on puffy couches who were talking away. I took my plate of food to the living room and made myself comfortable on the carpet, leaning against the wall. As I ate my food slowly, I listened quietly to conservations about the life and people I had left behind a couple months ago. I had just stuffed a fork-full of salad into my mouth when Don, the father of one of my classmates who was a pseudo-childhood friend, suddenly approached me. "Oh Amir! It's great to see you! How was your first semester at college?!"

I smiled and I motioned with my head that I had too much food in my mouth to talk. I took a couple more bites, and swallowed. "Oh, it was kind rough, you know..."

"Oh, wow that's great, Amir! Nice to see you!" He exclaimed, and turned away.

I blinked. Huh? "I said it was kinda... Oh, well it was nice to see you, too." But he was already long gone.

I usually think that most people have long ago tuned out to the talk about "changing tides" and all that blah. So I'm not going to go so far, but I do want to follow up on my last entry and let you connect the dots as you choose.

So the weekend's over, and the numbers are in. Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 came in number 1. Whatever, that's not a big deal, you may think, there was so much hype about it anyway. Well, it is a big deal. This is the voice of one man, not a gigantic Hollywood production. The really big deal, though, is the little number on the right. See it? Fahrenheit 9/11 only played in 868 movie theatres nationwide, whereas all the other movies played in 2000-3000 theatres! Such a small rotation, and it still ranked in the bucks like nobody's business. I don't know, that's cool.

I also came across two opposite opinion pieces (incidentally both written by the same person) about Michael Moore and Fahrenheit 9/11. Unlike my self-censorship, you might appreciate the way this guy lays it all out. Besides, it's not just about Michael Moore and the movie. It's about the world you live in. If you have a few seconds, go read! :)

Why I Hate Michael Moore


Why I Love Michael Moore

Now that I got you thinking, or totally bored, go on and have a great week! It's Monday!

I just got back from the movie Fahrenheit 9/11. I guess I needed to watch something a bit more mentally stimulating than White Chicks. There was so much controversy about this movie (F-9/11) for months that I just had to see for myself what the fuss was all about. Besides, I'd also seen Bowling for Columbine and another movie by Michael Moore (forgot the name of it...). Both of those movies got me thinking, so I figured this one would too.

I left the movie with a huge headache. It's provocative. It made me cringe at parts, and it definitely can piss people off. I haven't quite figured out where I stand on all the issues it tackles. Michael Moore portrays President Bush as someone who cares much more about his business connections than the country he runs. I guess you could say the whole movie is one big attack on Bush. Sure, maybe it was nice that someone finally publicly called the Pres. & Co. on things a lot of Americans had been thinking about them.

At the same time though, I felt uncomfortable by the extreme one sidedness of the movie. Moore dug up so much dirt on Bush, and related almost everything to his oil/business connections. Overdone, overspun? I don't know. Maybe. If an equally talented and zealous right-winger wanted to use Moore's filmmaking techniques, I'm sure s/he could frame most any Democratic as some sort of crazy evil-doer, too.

I like that finally people can go to the movies and have the option to watch something that reflects upon reality, as opposed to going to the movies to loose oneself in some Hollywood fantasy, and the only choice being whether be in the form of a drama, comedy, action, or whatever other genre. I am afraid, though, that this might be the beginning of political wars starting to play out movie theatres nationwide. It could get ugly.

Almost no day goes by without me thinking up some sort of entry I want to write for this blog. Not because I'm overly concerned with supplying this thing with content, and not because I feel obligated to do write. To me, writing is something cathartic and a chance to spew out what's on my mind without having to put up with a zillion questions or judgment calls. So now I have the time to write, and I have plenty to write about, but I don't, and it irks me.

Over the past few days I've wanted to write about me playing the role of a marriage counselor for a night. I wanted to describe my first meeting at alcoholics anonymous (no folks, I don't have a drinking problem and no one else in my family does. I would have explained why I was there, but...). I want to vent intensely about what makes me fume & what makes me melt. And I want to blah, blah, and blah some more about more random stuff.

But I haven't written about any of that, and I don't know if I will at this point anymore. The arrow of time is moving forward, and so what's the point of dwelling on the past? That last sentence might have just been one of the most hypocritical things I've ever written. The bottom line is that I feel like I'm stifling myself. I have issues. I want to just rant and rant about my self and my problems, and heck it's my blog, so why not? But at the same time, I don't want to give away all sorts of private details about my life, or my problems. Who knows who could come across this, and who knows how much I could regret it later on.

So I'm in a bind. Write honestly and blatantly and achieve the kind of catharsis I really want at the risk of making myself vulnerable or at least seem like an arse. Or, hold my breath, keep all the nitty gritty to myself, but remain very cozily in my comfort zone. I'm pretty sure the answer lies somewhere in the gray, but it's so complicated.

So with this newfound sense of freedom, I feel like I can turn my attention to things I have neglected because of school, stress, work, sleep deprivation, and whatever else has been preoccupying me. So suddenly, right now, I took notice of the (indeed, very) neglected state of my e-mails. I have three main e-mail accounts. One for my volunteer work, my college e-mail, and a personal account. So here's a numeric indicator to assess the neglect of my inboxes.

My volunteer work inbox has 456 e-mails.
My college e-mail account has 425 e-mails.
My personal e-mail account unrounds things out with a whopping 512 e-mails in my inbox.

Looks like I got some work to do! The thing is, though, that I have a tough time clicking delete. I tend to cling on to things like a bad habit gone wild. I think that maybe an article e-mailed to me a year ago might come in handy some day in the future. Or maybe someone e-mailed me a cool website that I don't quite want to bookmark, but I might just might want to check out again. I usually keep the last e-mail I get from anyone, and instead of adding people to my address book, I keep an e-mail from them in my inbox in case I ever want to get back in touch. Too complicated, too ridiculous. Anyway, now that I have some time and a little more mental clarity, it looks like I'll be doing some virtual summer cleaning.

D.C. was fun. I love to travel, and D.C. is such a happening place, so it would be hard not to have fun. But fun doesn't solve my problems. I left the conference feeling, slightly reassured, but mostly uneasy about position in the SSC. There are lots of great people involved in this sort of volunteer work. Plenty of people do it because they really do care about the environment. But there are also people who are just part of the organization for the power, resources, and the ego trip that a national leadership position can give you. And then there are people who don't particularly care about the cause but just do it for the social scene, because lots of their friends are involved.

I feel like I've given it enough time, 2.5 years, to make a call about how I feel. The people involved because of their passion for the cause inspire me, the people who do it for the social scene don't bother me much, but I don't want to put up with the power trips and the inflated egos of those who do it for themselves.

I'm a full-time student, and during the school year I have a job too. This environmental work is volunteer work I do on the side. I do it when I can, and because I enjoy it. But the minute it drains me out instead of replenishes me, and the minute it becomes a source of intense frustration and insecurity instead of something empowering, I need to seriously re-evaluate.

So that's what I'm doing. As a national leader, I realize that I've made a commitment, and I know better than just to drop the ball. I'm going to try to train other students over the next six months, so that hopefully come winter break, I'll only be peripherally in the picture. I think this is the right decision. It took me forever to make it. I'm a notoriously bad decision maker, but for once I feel confident in a decision of mine, so that must mean something.

That I'm pretty confident about this decision does not mean I'm at least a little sad about it. Stepping aside from this work almost feels like throwing away two and a half years of my life and my energy. In addition to drifting away from my role in the Sierra Club, yesterday I also called off a summer energy tour I was planning with two friends. We put in a lot of work into that tour as far as planning, and we even got a hybrid car donated. But the funding just didn't work out like we hoped, and moreover we were all feeling a bit burnt out. Well what can I say, two strike outs like this in a week are a tad overwhelming and depressing.

I know that the time off will be really good for me. Sleeping in, less stress, less pressure, more time to do things that I enjoy and that will replenish my energy, more time to reflect upon my life and what I want to get out of it. I need some down time, and this will help. Ah finally something I've been looking for & it's starting now.

So two weeks after my first weekend-stint in D.C. in five years, I'm already heading back! Tomorrow I'll be hopping on the same flight I took out to D.C. exactly two weeks ago. This time, though, I'll be spending the weekend with other Sierra Student Coalition (SSC) national leaders. We're going to be discussing how (in)effective our environmental work has been over the past year, and how to more forward more effectively in the future.

I'm a bit anxious about this meeting. Depending on how it goes, it could be my last SSC engagement, or just one of many more to come. I've mentioned in the past how I've been a tad restless about my role in the SSC and the environmental youth movement as a whole. So this meeting should really help me gage whether or not I should stay involved.

For me, it's a really tough call. I've invested almost two and a half years of my life into environmental work. From the age of 16 and a half I have committed myself to raising public awareness about how everyone's health is threatened by increasing air pollution, and to fighting for solutions to minimize pollution and protect everyone in the process. So for over two years, I've rolled up my sleeves and got serious. Everyday after school, I was out there petitioning, testifying at the state capitol, speaking at conferences, media events, or waking up a 5am to drive to the other side of town and speak to new student groups early in the morning so I could make it back before school started.

It was intense work, but for the first year or so it was well worth the effort. At first I really felt like I was making a difference. I saw results. People signed petitions. Students I spoke to wanted to get involved. Articles I wrote got published in local newsprint, or the newspapers and TV wrote about the campaigns I was involved in. Congress passed the law I testified in support of. It was all the epitome of hard work paying off. But after a while the momentum started to loose steam. I moved forward with plans to launch national efforts to create a strong, effective movement of youth educating the public about the consequences we all suffer from a dirty environment. In the process we'd be tearing down stereotypes about apathetic teens and showing the nation that we too care, we too want to be involved, and we too have opinions that should be valued just as much as others'.

This seemed like a great, noble plan. I loved it, and it seemed like everyone I talked to loved it. So before I knew it, I was appointed a national campaign coordinator in the SSC, and I had my work cut out for me. The only problem was that I always believed that I could never take on such a big task on my own. I didn't accomplish everything on my own on the local level. I had students and adults walking beside me every step of the way and leading the way with me. Somehow I lost most of those people in the transition from the local to the national. I'm not sure why. Maybe they had their fill, as some discontinued their environmental work. Maybe some just thought it was too much for them to take on. I don't know.

Anyway, this is where things got frustrating and the head-banging (figurative, remember? ;-)) began. It's not like I could just wake up at 5am and go meet student groups across the country and then be back in time for morning classes. Even if that were possible. I had a whopping budget of $0 to run this national campaign, and I just couldn't go out and invest thousands of dollars of my own money to make this happen. So I did my best. With some help, I created materials like information packets, brochures, petitions, flyers, tip sheets, sample letters, etc. I tried to do outreach to SSC members but the response was pretty minimal. I also wrote to Sierra Club chapters (our adult counterparts) in every state across the country encouraging them begin working with youth. I got lots of responses. There were tons of great intentions, but when push came to shove, either due to lack of funding, staffing, or interest nothing materialized.

In any case, I've spent the past year just trying to get this whole national youth energy thing off the ground. For many reasons it just hasn't been working, at all. I know I may come off as hasty and impatient, since I haven't provided all the boring details about all the ways I've tried to make this work, and all the effort I put in that seems to have been mostly in vain. I'm burning myself out, and mostly I'm not having fun anymore. I don't want to become one of those dusty people who, long ago inspired by a real passion and enthusiasm, entered an organization and took up a cause, but long after their excitement left they just stayed put and rotted. I'm not in it for the power trip, and I don't want to become one of those dry bureaucrat types.

I met with my an old junior high teacher of mine for lunch a week ago. I told him about all of my hesitations and where I might be heading (into the unknown?). He blinked and me and said, "wow, it's pretty impressive of you to admit you might not want to stay involved in something you've already committed so much of your life to." It's so hard to admit this to myself, and I'm still playing tug of war over this, and I can't quite figure out where I stand. So with all that in mind, I'm going to hold my breath and head to D.C... The last, or one of many more to come?

Reality bites. Despite all my talk about empowerment and self betterment, I still have a (very) long way to go. As much as I've tried to take the moral high ground on whatever, at the end of the day, week, month, year I feel just as bad off as I have always been. I'm still the same old mope, and I can't quite discern if it's a matter of depression, burn-out or both.

I still want to lie around the house all day and do nothing but eat, sleep, and watch TV. I still stifle myself. Almost all my attempts at "honest writing" have so far been in vain. There are still things I wouldn't dare to admit and statements I want to, but wouldn't dare to make. Instead of using words to be bold and daring, I hide behind them. I wish I could make things go away or at least be better, but I'm still too much of a wimp, or too powerless, or just too depressed and burnt out to do anything really constructive.

So I was just surfing away, and I came across this article "Thousands of Blogs Fall Silent" on wired.com. I remember checking out weblogs.com back in the day when I wanted to start one of my own. I guess I'm pretty glad I went for blogger, but I still feel bad for the 3000+ people whose months, or even years, of writing, ranting, and blogging just went poof, disappeared.

I read vague hints that blogger could do something like that too, but I really, really, really hope not. Afterall, this isn't totally free! They have some users pay a fee for premium services. And for those of us who don't pay, we get the honor of a lovely ad gracing the top of our webpage.

I don't have anything too special to write about tonight, but I did come across this article a few hours ago. It probably doesn't come as a surprise that the majority of our senators are so rich they could swim in their money, but it just hammers it home one more time. OK, so I don't know how cool it is to air their money business out in public like that. I don't think I'd be so happy to hear details about my bank accounts and sources of income on Yahoo! headline news. Nevertheless, this already being revealed, you can't help but react.

Does it piss anyone else off to think that if you wanted to run to some sort of public office you'd stand a much smaller chance of winning against an opponent who was considerably wealthier? It's hard to sound off about exactly how level of a playing field their needs to be. But at the same time I wonder about how fairly we are being represented at the capitol when our representatives are all of a very homogeneous breed: rich. I know there are some good people among them, but I know it also wouldn't hurt to have more diversity up on the hill.

I'm getting close to one month into my summer vacation. Maybe it's not healthy to think of it that way because it reminds me of how much has gone by and how fast the rest will, too. But that's not the point at all. A month's worth of much more R & R than normal is definitely starting to take its effect. Although the residual effects of long term sleep-deprivation and hyperstress like irritability, anxiety, and unnecessary stress still plague me, I'm finally starting to feel the difference.

For the past couple days, I've been having these sudden short-lived flashes where I relapse into thinking about writing (for fun). Gosh, what a thing of the past. I've also begun to rethink about the book I undertook to write last summer. Finally tonight, after a sort of lethargic day (although it was my sister's high school graduation day--yay sis!), these flashes burst through the figment of my imagination and became a part of my reality.

Last summer, relatively rested, relaxed, and inspired, I decided to undertake a summer project of writing a book. I wanted to chronicle the 21st century lives of American teens as seen through our own eyes. Enough had been written about teens by "experts" who are 30 years out of touch, so I figured, if I ever wanted to take a dabble at this, now (then) was the time. Still freshly entrenched in the high school culture of MTV, crowded hallways, and the insane pressures to do your best NOW for the sake of your future, I wanted to reflect upon the lives of today's teens through personal stories, exposes, and creative pieces.

Finally, something I loved doing. Finally, something that didn't take away from me, but only nurtured my soul. Finally, something I believed in. Finally a chance to capture my real voice.

So, last summer I set out on a keyboard typing spree. I wrote about 40 pages on one megasized file, and it felt like I was actually accomplishing something. I even set a goal for myself to finish the first draft of my book by the time I turn 19. I figured that if I wrote 40 pages in two and a half months, I could have a big, fat, 200-something page draft within nine months. I guess that back then I didn't realize how much my first year at college would disturb the dust of my life that had so peacefully settled over the summer. College ravaged the fabric of my life and unapologetically came in between me an all my plans.

Fast forward to nine months later. Happy birthday to Amir, 19 years old. My first year was going to be over in 4 days. Thank goodness it was almost over, but I was nowhere near the goal I set myself with regard to the book. I struggled during those nine months, and only managed to produce an incoherent, meager rant of 25 pages. I was so frustrated and overwhelmed (overworked) in school that I barely wrote 5 pages in the last three months, and the majority of them were pasted out of my blog entries. I didn't touch the file during the month of May, and up till the last couple days I was starting to accept the fact that this book will just be another incomplete mission, dream deferred, failure.

But tonight, around 11:30pm, I sat down in front my computer turned on some music, opened the file, and began to write. It was wonderful. I wrote three pages of something I finally feel decent about--decent draft quality, and it fits in with my theme pretty well. I had so much fun. The uninspired people reading this might find this really stupid and cliche, but it felt so great, and I feel so fulfilled. And honestly, I haven't felt this way in SUCH a long time. It was like rekindling flame that went out long ago, and we all know all the symbolisms about light versus dark (and no, I'm not talking about the ones about skin color), so 'nuff said.

No, I know. I'm not going to finish this book quickly. I'm not going to find a publisher overnight. But every day like this gets me a little bit closer to that dream.

So the whole situation was really awkward. There I was surrounded by a room full of drunk (and some high) people, and I was one of the only sober people around. The "dinner" was only officially supposed to last from 6-9pm, and though I'm not one to ruin people's fun, once 11:00pm rolled around, I started to feel like we had all overstayed our welcome just a tad. So I went up to the guy who was hosting me at his place and I asked him if we can start to think about heading back. After all, we still had to wake up early on Sunday for the remainder of the conference, and there were still some important discussions to be had and decisions to be made the following day. And, you know, I don't know how productive we'd be if people were making these decisions under the influence of sleep-deprivation and hangovers.

My host screeched something about it still being early and the fun just beginning. I probably should have anticipated that response, but hey, at least I tried! I hung out a little more, ate a little more, tried to talk to some people, and then about half and hour later I asked him if we could maybe think about heading out this time. This time he gave me an ultimatum: not till you have a beer. Excuse me?! Aside from the fact that I'm underage and it'd illegal, I don't want to. I have my reasons, so no. Then he told me that we should spoon. I had no clue what that meant, but I had a good enough sense that it was not something I should take too seriously. I tossed him a kind of "uh-uh" look in his direction, and before I had a chance to say anything, my host yelled, "What?! You don't know what spooning is?!" I wasn't going to fake it, so I just said no. Next thing I know, he's trying to enunciate a half-assed explanation, but two of the drunkies in the crowd took it a step further and just gave me a demonstration. So there the two were, on the floor, one guy lying behind the other, stomach to back, ass to crotch. OOOOOkay... I think I just walked away at that point.

Trying to make the most of it, I looked for something to keep me busy. I spotted a little bookshelf built into the wall in the living room, so I made my way across the room and scouted out the books. I needed something to get me through an unusual Saturday night, something light. Among all the heavy books about war, peace, and politics I noticed Stupid White Men, or whatever that book's called, by Michael Moore. Considering that I was surrounded by many people acting like stupid white men, the book seemed very appropriate. I read his almost the entire chapter about the environment, since that's what this whole conference was about. The chapter wasn't too uplifting, but whatever, it passed the time.

Around 12:45am, the matriarch of the house officially decided that the 20 of us had overstayed our welcome (and she was right-- by almost 4 hours), and she started kicking people out. I don't think I've ever felt so good about being kicked out of some place (though I must say I was very cooperative about it from the get-go). So at one o'clock the guy hosting me and I made our way out to the nearest D.C. metro place and embarked on the long ride back to his place. He told me he had a whole 12 pack of beer and then 10 drinks from the keg. Not that I know much about drinking, but doesn't that kind of quantity sound a bit obscene?

Anyway, we got back safe and sound and blah, blah, blah. I guess the thing that made me feel a bit uncomfy was just seeing everyone like that on Saturday night. I mean, we were all representatives of national organizations, here for something really important. You'd think that these people "at the top" would have their act together a little bit more. I mean, fine, their entitled to their own lives and their own vices, but just to let them out like that in front of each other seemed a little ugly. When my host told me they were outside smoking pot earlier, I was pretty surprised. "Oh man, smoking pot," I repeated, surprised.
"Yeah what do you expect, they're a bunch of fucking hippies," he said under the uninhibited effect of his drunkenness. I thought about that for a second. It's true that "environmentalists" tend to get a reputation of being pot-smoking hippies. But that just ain't me at all. Maybe that's why I felt so uncomfortable and out of place, but I think the saddest thing was to see people live up to the stereotype. How are things ever going to change if we just let ourselves become self-fulfilling prophecies? And moreover, in the environmental movement we're constantly pushing for change from others, but how can we expect that if we don't change our own attitudes and the very things about us that turn people off?

I got home on Sunday evening from a weekend spent in the nation's capitol. It was pretty fun. I had a ton of reservations. Mostly I wanted to stay home and sleep. But partly since I already bought my flight ticket, and partly because I already put in the notice I was going to attend, I just packed my suitcase for the 8th time this year and flew out to D.C.

I'm pretty happy I went. 17 non-profit environmental organizations sent representatives to this gathering. Our task was to finally put all of our differences aside and talk about how we can start working together instead of against each other. It doesn't sound like such a novel idea, but in these politically-charged days, where almost everyone seems to have their own uncompromising agenda, I think this was a pretty big feat. There was a lot of brainstorming and strategizing that weekend. It was intense, and although we didn't come out with some huge master-plan, I think we lay down the foundation for something pretty big.

The crazy part was Saturday night. I guess that by saying "Saturday night," you might already have a good idea of what happened without even needing to read on... One of the representatives who lives in D.C. offered to host Saturday night dinner at her place. Officially dinner was supposed to go from 6pm till 9pm, but it went over "just a tad." Before dinner even started, one of the guys took the liberty of splurging almost $200 on a keg to be delivered to us. After about an hour and a half of relative sanity, the alcohol started to take its effect. People got a bit louder and rowdier, and the next thing I know a whole group of people are outside smoking (and from what I was told--it wasn't cigarettes).

------

Woops! I hate to cut things in the middle, but my grandma just got home from her day of wandering around downtown St. Paul. I'm going out with her to see a movie now, so I'll describe the rest of the D.C. party later on tonight!

Not that many people follow this little online journal thing of mine, but for whoever in the world does, you might have wondered why the heck I've been so silent and absent, especially now that I'm on break and supposedly have gobs of time to sit in front of my laptop and type all day.

Well, my grandma came here to visit us for a couple weeks, and I took her on a road trip! Yup, that's right, me and Grams hit the highways of the northern Midwestern states to see some pretty mountains, forests, and other cool stuff like that. It was great. We saw some amazing things like Devils Tower, the Badlands, and various cool sites like Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills of South Dakota. This finally gave me the chance to flush my eyes with some new scenery and to fill my lungs with some really fresh, clean air.

Don't think that I came back relaxed and refreshed though. Lately, it seems like vacations have been more of a chance to procrastinate and temporarily escape from things than a chance to recharge the empty batteries or heal the burn-out. After a 10 hour drive home, I came back totally exhausted and just freaking out over all the stuff I have to do and all the time I don't have to do them. I'm going to DC this Friday, and then I'm going to DC again in two weeks and there's too much I have to do to prepare myself for that. There are also some people I definitely need to catch up with now that I'm home from college: friends, grandma who's visiting, the parents, my sister, and other people I left behind in Minnesota when I moved out to NY. Then there's someone who has been bugging me for the past 5 months to spare him some quality time--me.

I'm wondering if I'll ever manage to strike a balance. Maybe I need a vacation from vacation to really relax. Or maybe I need to learn how to get my act together. Or maybe this is just a sign of me being in dire need for some heavy-duty ME time.