Yeah.

So the semester is almost over. My second semester of college (technically really my third) and I find myself here, sitting in my living room with a previously empty draft page, not knowing what to write, but for some reason I feel compelled to. I suppose I've just been feeling a little emotional lately. Who knows. Perhaps if I kept a more updated blog it wouldn't be a huge mystery, but I don't find my life too interesting to write about. Here I am at 19, a regular person, no accomplishments, and nothing to offer.
What am I expecting of myself? What is interesting enough to even mention on the internet?
I'm not interesting. That is the problem. But I'm here. I'm here, and there's no reason to be here.
 I'm consistently stuck in a loop between thinking I am the best person in the world, and the most worthless, and it's killing me.

Short one.

So today my mom signed the lease to the new apartment that we're going to move into in a week. It's not the same apartment as I mentioned earlier. To be honest, I preferred that one. Today was the first day I visited our new apartment and I was not impressed in the slightest.

 My family let the glamorization of a two story apartment blind their judgment, and I am not happy.

Glendale kid until the finish I suppose.

Hello blogger.
Guess what?
I'm probably moving soon.
Yay me, right?
Yeah, no, this isn't really a good thing.
At least not for me individually.

See the thing is, we're applying for this apartment in glendale, which is way bigger then the current apartment I live in, in NoHo, but the apartment in Glendale has one room less then the one we live in now. Which means, I have no room. I get the boot. Gabriel gets his own huge room, and I get to live in a room with my sister and mom (which is also a big room), but let's face it, with three people sharing it, it's bound to feel suffocating. And believe me it will be. The Apartment itself is nice. Everything is new. The living room, and bedrooms are good sizes. There are two bathrooms, and even a 'dining area'. Also the kitchen is pretty nice. Also if I remember correctly there's a balcony, but I'm not entirely sure. I only have two things I dislike about it. The floor is carpet. I hate carpet. It's annoying to clean, and you have to be more careful with food, drinks, and anything that can potentially get it dirty. Also I have a habit of  keeping my shoes on as long as possible, and I can already hear my mom yelling 'TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES, YA HAMARA'. I'd rather have wood flooring thanks. But that's not something I can control, obviously.
The second thing I don't like, is what I've already mentioned. The room thing. I mean, it's not that huge a deal. It's just a place to relax, sleep, and chill. But here's the thing. My mom wants to get rid of my things. Not her junk.
Before I begin this, let me explain my mother to you. She's a massive hoarder. I am too. But I mean, she's so unorganized about it. I compartmentalize my things. They're all mostly put away. In boxes, and folders, and bookshelves and notebooks. I make room for my things, and every other month or so I weed out all the things I REALLY don't need, so as I don't find myself with an overflow of junk. My mother though, nah. Just shove everything in a drawer. Shove all the other things in unorganized shoe boxes. And when there's no room, leave things all over the living room table, and on top of the dresser in the bedroom. You may be thinking it's the same thing but it's not. It's the things she keeps and how she keeps them. She won't throw out anything. Old coupons, old receipts, old junk mail, old makeup that's probably expired by now that she doesn't even use anymore, useless documents, etc. Nothing really of importance. But of course, it's my stuff that's junk. She's proposing I do two things. Leave everything at my Dad's studio apartment. Or throw everything out. All my books, all my old drawings, all my important papers, diaries,  my keyboard, things that I'd never in a million years toss out. Honestly, (sorry to be drama queenish) my eyes are watering thinking about it.
Those are my things my memories. What am I supposed to do without them? What am I going to have left? My clothes and my laptop. Great. I mean I love Syd, and what would I do without my clothes? But really. Personal possessions aren't just only personal possessions are they? They have meaning. They are part of your life. No matter if you've had a certain thing, for one year, two years, your whole life,  or even a few days. Now, I know you're thinking, 'just leave it at your Dad's place, and stop your whining'. But honestly if you know me, I'm quite the curious person. Guess where I get it from. My Dad. He wouldn't hesitate to look through all my things without shame. And there are things about a teenage girl, that her father should never know about. If otherwise, fine, I'll survive, but that's not the case is it?
I really just don't know what I should do. Part of me just wants to sabotage this move just so I won't have to get rid of anything. Honestly sometimes I just feel like all this moving is only taxing to my happiness. Everyone else goes about it untouched, like we're only moving around furniture. Which is probably what it is for them. But I'm different. Sensitive I guess. I just can't think of it that way. 
Most of the time, moving to me means everyone benefiting but myself.
And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. Because there it is. Written in ink. As plain as the eye can see. Nothing, and everything is going to change. Whether I like it or not.

Venting

Hello again, Blogger. I've sort of been scanning through the last couple of posts and noticed that I've been using this blog for a little venting, which isn't really wise to do on the internet. I do this though, because I find it easier to just post things blatantly on the internet than just dumping my issues and pointless complaints to other people  who have more complicated things going on in their lives, then to hear my whining. And no, that's not code for 'GUISE PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO ME' because if I had a real issue, and I mean a serious one, I'd definitely make sure I vented to a real, living person. I wouldn't waste time venting to someone about not having space, or not being able to afford the things I'd like to have, or not being able to work because of college. Those things are frivolous, and they can be dealt with step by step, and through time. I don't need to bother anyone with it. Sure they can tug at me, make me lose my patience, and sometimes the stress of life can impair my judgment on what I should share, and what I should not share on the internet, but it's not ridiculously important enough for me to bother others with the little tiny things. Little things I can deal on my own. And to be honest, EVERYTHING bugs me. I have no patience, a short temper, ridiculous mood swings, and space issues. To be annoyed or bothered by little trivial things go hand in hand with those traits. So it's not a mystery that I find it easier to just unleash my thoughts online, because it seems rude, and just generally bothersome to complain about every little thing to people who don't have to hear it. So to put things in a nutshell, I complain about things, I rant, and I vent online. Am I okay? Maybe at the moment of writing, I may not feel so, but will I be okay? Yeah, I will be, because I'm venting, which is part of letting go, and in the end, even after a few days have passed, I laugh at myself, and how I thought those things I were venting about seemed so important at the time, yet now they just seem to be in a distant part of my brain, still unsolved, but not entirely threatening my sanity.