Family.

I had to finish reading Never Let Me Go over break for English so after several days of bumming around, I picked up the book today, resolved to finish it all in one sitting. Of course, after a single digit number of pages, I was soon fast asleep within the warmth of my covers, the morning's ridiculous track workout having drained me of the energy required to keep my eyes open. Upon waking up with the outburst of several expletives, I decided to finish the rest of my reading downstairs in the living room, where I was more likely to stay awake.

Innocently minding my own business, I made my jolly way down the stairs, happy to have set my mind on something so productive after being a useless bum for the past few days. I made a beeline for my favorite corner of the couch and was just about to settle into a comfortable reading position when my dad walked out of the kitchen and exclaimed, "Well, if it isn't Brooke in the living room! Haven't seen you on this level of the house except to eat or play piano!" I looked up with a taken aback, "What?" then pretended to commence with my reading. Inside my head, though, I felt slightly confused. What did he mean?

And then I felt bad because I realized that I've been spending most of my time cooped up in my own room, and that I probably talk to people on gchat ten times more often than I talk to my own family. That's pretty sad. But then again I think I'm painting a bad picture here, I love my parents and my brother and I have a very good family life - much better than that of most people's, so I've come to realize over the years - but I guess I haven't been appreciative of that. Hmm, I should probably thank them sometime before I go off to college. But we all know that only happens in sappy movies and TV shows.

Time To Wait.

I have this funny feeling in my stomach but I'm not sure if it's from the adhesive substance of the envelopes I've been licking all afternoon or from the dread of being rejected from all the colleges these envelopes were mailed to.

Ajlsdkjfks.

I wish I could find all the right words to say, the perfect combination of the letters of the alphabet that would dissolve all your sadness in one sentence's embrace.

Runner's High.

So today I spent several hours freezing my ass off at the track, waddling around like a penguin with my arms held stiffly at my sides, refusing to take my hands out of the over sized sleeves of my varsity jacket. But in the end, when it was finally time for the 800, my race went by surprisingly fast and when it was all over I sat down, put on my sweats, and replaced those dreadfully toe-squishing track spikes with my worn out, comfortable uggs. It was a good feeling.

On the car ride home, I couldn't stop coughing after running around in the cold for so long, yet I sang with Leona Lewis at the top of my lungs. And as I drove past the rows of houses, amazed at each one's sparkling Christmas lights, I felt warm, and relieved, and content. And when I got back home my mom made me hot apple cider with cinnamon and I sat there sipping my steaming mug while listening to a piano cover of Just The Way You Are. So Amy, to answer your question - "Why do you run? Why would you do winter track?!" - I guess it's for moments like these.

Sacrifice.

So tonight at dinner it was just my mother and I. Not unlike many of our dinner conversations, we got on the topic of college - except instead of finishing my plate with the usual feeling of a sinking heart and the fear of failure, I sat there in a sort of awed confusion.

My mom is mad smart. Whenever I don't understand calc, she'll take a quick glance at my homework and say, "Oh...hmm give me your textbook, I think I remember this," and within a few minutes, perfectly understands the entire chapter. It blows my mind. Whenever my computer crashes, mother comes to the rescue with her troubleshooting skills. And when I borrow astronomy magazines and books from the library, she'll finish reading them before I do and then start asking me questions about them that I have no answers to. And on top of being a genius, she's an amazing artist. All the paintings that we have hung up around the house are hers. But she hasn't painted in a while.

She wanted to be an architect. Came to America, got into college, received her Masters degree. "But you really shouldn't worry about where you go to college," she said as I stared at my rice. "Cause in the end it doesn't really matter. I mean I didn't go to that great of a college but it makes no difference now - I chose not to go to work, and just stay at home. I'm happy with my life." And then I felt really bad. I mean I know my mom loves our family and would do anything for us - from making me breakfast in the morning to solving crazy math problems with my brother to helping my dad publish books. Yet I can't help but wonder if she ever regrets giving up her own interests, her own dreams, to support her family. I hope am a good enough daughter to make her sacrifices worth it.

College.

How can anyone really get to know a person through a list of awards and a few measly essays? Even interviews are no good - first impressions are often wrong. There is too much luck involved in this application process.

I dislike things that are out of my control.

Rant.

I didn't make regions so in a momentary outbreak of spite I wrote this:

I can’t wait for the day
When I can turn around and say
Did you forget about me?
Well I’m back and here to stay.

Celebrities will know my name
And the President will claim
That he knew I had it in me
Before I came to fame.

‘Cause I can guarantee
I’ll be all that’s on TV
And everywhere you go –
They’ll be talking about me.

I’ll come knocking at your door
To even out the score
Did you forget about me?
Well you can’t anymore.

Okay, my rant is done now. It's alllll good.

Locker Room Conversations.

Girl: So, do you know for sure yet?
Other Girl: No...my mom's like freaking out though, crying and crap.
Girl: Wow, why are moms soo dramatic...was she like born 36? She was our age once too...
Other Girl: I don't know, but she had me when she was a teen, so she should know all about it.

Oh, the things you overhear sometimes...

So...college.

It's like I'm walking down an empty hallway lined with locked doors on each side, and I'm desperately knocking on every one, hoping someone will open it before I reach a dead end.