Moving On

Hello all - I know I haven't posted a lot recently, and I know some of my regulars have been a bit miffed about it. However, I know this post will likely draw a reaction.

So here's what you missed: Interning for Disney was a fantastic experience where I met some amazing people and worked on some really cool stuff. Most of it is not anything that you'd hear about, like fire alarm systems, bridge repairs, roofs, and other stuff, but I have come away with a much better understanding of how to construct basically anything and everything. Seriously, I worked on everything from ADA compatibility adjustments to zoo enclosures.
I'm currently at summer school. working to catch up on what I missed.
Part of the reason I didn't post anything was that Disney has a fairly draconian, slightly ambiguous social media policy (despite the look of  attempted officialness, Blogger is very much so a social media platform) especially with regards to stuff that hasn't happened or been announced yet (not that most of what I worked on would be or will be announced).

The other part involves a confession.

I have an addiction.
I've had it since I was little, and it's steadily gotten worse over time as I have gained access and knowledge. I don't think it's debilitating; in fact, at some points in my life, it's been rather helpful. I have an inking that part of it is inherited. The good stuff causes extreme dopamine rushes to my brain's pleasure center, but I still devour the mediocre and even the awful stuff with gluttonous abandon.
Ever since I was little, I have had an unrelenting addiction to stories, in all shapes, sizes, genres, and mediums. Stories let me get out of my own self-destructive head and into someone else's head. Stories make me laugh, stories make me cringe, stories make me need stay up late at night to find out what happens next. I can't go more than a few days without a fix. My library, my friends, the Irish guys at the fair, movies, books, games, comedy, the works - I can't get away from it, but I don't want to.

So here's the reason that goes along with that - I've always wanted to have my own adventure, have something that someone could write a story about, to discover the world. This past semester was a kind of bizarre attempt at a build-your-own bildugsroman - my own personal dramatic coming of age story.
I've come to the realization that a lot of what I have, and a lot of the major decisions that I've made are not entirely my own - and I know that's not a bad thing.  However, I've become rather disillusioned after realizing that almost nothing significant that I have achieved has been achieved because I wanted it first. I needed something I could claim as my own, something that I could go for, something that I worked for and earned, and this internship happened to be just what I needed - a Bueller-esque chance to stop and look around around before I miss what I'm told is the prime of my life. It also gave me the freedom to take complete and total responsibility for my own path, and my own mistakes - and that was glorious. I had some time to reflect and think about where I - not my parents, not my friends, not my relatives - where I want my life, my own story, to go. And it's going to be epic.

Here's the thing - a lot what I've posted here over the years is disingenuous. I am very cognizant of my audience, that they want to hear that everything is hunky dory, that I love my classes, that I love life. (Otherwise, I get weird probing anonymous comments.) Sometimes, that's true - everything has been all good. A lot of times, it's definitely not. Last fall was the worst semester of my life, grade-wise, and probably health-wise. There were times when I obsessed over what would happen if I just disappeared, quit, moved out of the picture. I am no longer homesick, but despite having gone all across America, there are still very few places where I feel like I fit in well at all.
No, I don't think I'm gay (not that that would be bad), and don't worry, I've never been suicidal.  
But here's the thing - after this "semester abroad," after actually making friends that I can still talk to, after literally driving across the country, I've gained some perspective. I've realized that I have changed dramatically since freshman year.

I still want to tell my own story, but this blog is not the place to tell it. It was never really mine, and it wasn't even my idea in the first place, and it's never told an entirely genuine tale of who I am. I know there are a lot of fake people on the internet, but I don't want to be one of them. I'm trying hard to get over my own propensity for opportunistic storytelling. I also can't stand the shameless self-promotion and narcissism that running even a mildly successful blog about myself entails.
There are also a lot of other projects that I am working on, art, short stories, opinion pieces, photos, videos, and the like, that this platform is not well equipped to handle.
And then there's this.

And that's why this is going to be the last official Dragon Scales post.

I just can't deal with the lies.

It's just not working for me any more.

It's not you, it is most definitely me.

I know you're all devastated to see it go.

So this is Grace, signing off.

I need to go live my own story.

42.