Never Established

I am claiming this title. I officially consider myself a domestic goddess. I’m unsure of the exact requirements for the position, but I feel that, regardless of how one defines it, I am one. I can cook, I make chocolates from moulds for Christmas, I am sewing the Christmas presents, and just generally am loving the zen that comes from being homey.

This sewing thing is wonderful. It’s like doing maths — there’s tricks and patterns, and it’s similar to doing a problem or equation that you think you can’t handle and then getting it right…that feeling is wonderful. But it’s more rewarding, too, because you can see it take shape as you go, can see where it all works and how it works. I love it.

It’s also become this wonderful creative outlet, because you are being creative, but it’s also structured. I’m thinking of taking up scrapbooking, too, but then I realised that it is actually very expensive to do so. I’ve restricted myself so that I can’t do anything of the sort until such time as I’ve found myself a job. I need the extra income, and as a reward, I can look at delving into the realm of creative practices.

No, really. I just failed an exam. I haven’t got the results, but I can already tell what the result will be.

I have always been a ‘high achiever’. I’ve always cared, I’ve always understood the class, I’m able to retain information through being told it and other people go, “How do you remember that stuff?” And this class has just….blind-sided me. I went to all the classes, I understood it as I was being taught it, I remember random information and yet…I go into the exam, as prepared as I could be after the week I just had, and I may as well have been doing an exam for a subject I don’t take. I had literally no idea what was going on. I could do parts of each question but never complete it — in one question I couldn’t even do the first part, and therefore not the second, or third. I was just completely at a loss.

The lecturer caught me as I was leaving. “Why are you leaving so early?” he asks.

I shrug. “I couldn’t do anymore.”

“Are you happy with it?”

“Nope.” He wants me to come to consultation hours. “Don’t worry,” he says, “this is a practice for the final. It’s only 30% of your total grade.”

Yeap. Only 30%. Thank goodness, otherwise I would have been really stressed, right?

I slept so very well last night. I dreamt consistently, and in each and every one I dreamt I was in love. When I woke up I counted 6 different situations in which I was gloriously happy, intrigued, interested and reciprocated. It was amazing. I woke up smiling, feeling so very content. In most dreams, he sought after me, although there were a couple where I was after him. And each time there was something so right about it. It was never the same person, always just a little bit different, but…

Gosh, nights like that make me wish I could sleep forever.

Because at the moment, it’s sure as hell too hard. I feel like juggling everything is too difficult, and each time I even think of something that needs to be done, I just want to go and hide under the covers for as long as possible. Stuff keeps happening, I keep losing the plot and half the time it’s my fault because of something I didn’t do months, even years ago. I feel ill-equpped to be an adult and it’s making me depressed.

Part of me just wants to put the panic off for as long as possible — and if I let any in, it’ll all come flooding. The other part knows that I’m going to have to deal with it regardless, and the only difference is whether or not I’ll end up doing all nighters to achieve it in the end.

So I’m trying to convince myself to go for the grown up option and do what I have to do. Until that time, I’m baking.