As some of you may know, and as I have come to see through the drop off in readership through my weekly hit counter, I have not posted for 15 days. That is over two weeks. The maintenance of regular postings, two to three times a week, that I had hoped to be consistent with from the summer is harder than I thought. It is not for lack of interesting, random, sugar-high and caffeine-buzz, or educated thougts occurring in my head. On the contrary, being around a larger number of friends and peers as well as being back into a technical, academic setting, the volume is overflowing.
I'm just lazy sometimes.
I am a bit behind in my application process for employment. My graduate class is harder than I expected. Ordinary Differential Equations kicked my ass for a bit. I had some personal questioning in the relationship department. My romantic life blossomed into a million roses that make me smile with every step I take in the dull mud of Troy's streets in the fall.
I turned 21 on Sunday. No revelation or magical excitement occurred, save for the fact that I can actually go out with friends to drink and have more options than my normal nightcaps. In my recent writing, my greatest challenge, apart from consistency in frequency, appears to be thought and order. This posts perfectly orchestrates that idea since my soul really does reflect a bit much.
I am 21. I feel old. I was very tempted to resign, give up, and shut down this blog due to difficulty in maintaining my literary love child, however, I recently read through the comments of my last post. One was a drunk posting by a friend with a decent deal of thought behind it, and the other was a thoughtful post by my youngest sister Lizzy. My baby sister Lizzy can form educated arguements about the conditions of discrimination in today's society. My baby sister.
Now I feel old.
Condescention is an annoying trait in anyone, and unfortunately I am guilty of it through my protectionism and love for my sisters. For those who know me personally, you maybe already aware that I tolerate almost no level of moves, come-ons, hitting on, jokes, or any form of sexual line about my sisters. I am an overprotective sister. I am aware I smother. I love them. Through my own hardships, they are the world to me. There is nothing that I would not do for either of them. The hinderance of my love is that it is very easy to idolize a younger, more innocent, version of them to protect. Both of them are sometimes frozen in a moment of elementary school in my mind, back when the three of us were all at the same school. I could lead by good example, I could protect from snots in their class and on the bus, and I could be there to swap fruit snacks.
I can't do that anymore. I can lead by example still, and it is rewarding that all three of us have a sisterly relationship with a greater friendship feel instead of hierarchy, but the knight in shining armor is dead. The knight had to put a dress back on again and relocate to tea parties. I want to be there to ward off boys, high school drama, bad college study habits and just be there in every sense.
I am both proud and saddened by the aging of my sisters. My youngest is in her final year of high school. She is beautiful, intelligent, amazing, and still a thorn in my side occassionally. I love her and our middle sister with the intensity of a thousand suns, and for once, there is not any sarcasm painted onto that phrase. Regular posting as well as the growth and maturity of my darling little sisters are just things that I'm going to have to get used to. Both rewarding and disheartening at the same time, time goes on.
In the words of my mom and many other people wiser than myself, getting old's a bitch.