Free Write - 1/24/13

I want to move out. I think that I can do it. Of course I've been faced with a hard wall from my parents. "It's a sin!" "You can't make it" "Look at the statistics!" They never seem to run out of reasons why I shouldn't leave the house. It makes me feel like a defiant teenager. And I hate that. I don't want to feel defiant when I move out. I want to feel free and responsible and of course in good standing with my parents in case things crash and burn. Which is a huge possibility. They keep telling me to learn from their mistakes. They got married at nineteen. She got pregnant and dropped out of college. He finished, just barely. With a few academic suspensions along the way. And I can see that. I have duely noted in my head that that is a possibility for Arandi and I. Some things just take risks. You can't hide from big decisions because they can be a bit risky. I guess you could call it an unnecessary risk, because I don't HAVE to move out. No one is kicking me out. My parents provide me with food, shelter, car insurance, help whenever I need it. And I genuinely appreciate that. And I also know that will not continue to be provided to me, post move out. It sounds crazy even to me at times. To give up all this free care and start paying the 100%. But there is just something inside me. Some drive I can't explain. I need to feel that independence. I need to get away from the house. Away from my parents. I need to feel like I'm the conductor of my life. I love my parents and my family. And I don't hate living at home.
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Intro-Amber Campbell

I'm an adventurer. My hobbies include, but aren't limited to, hiking, biking, wakeboarding, camping, and thrifting. I am always up for trying new things and I absolutely love to travel. My favorite food is a tie between sushi and tortitas con huevos.  I was born in Houston, Texas but I'm not a Texan. I came to Springfield when I was 2. I have a little sister, who's 17 and wants to be an interpreter for the def. I also have an older brother who is now at OTC, about to be a nurse. I also have a retriever. His name is Grover and he doesn't know he's a dog. Sweetest thing in the world, very well behaved.
When I move out, I plan to adopt a teacup pig and name him Carl. I'm at OTC on A+, getting my gen eds out of the way before pursuing psychology somewhere warmer. I would like to minor in creative writing, but that'll probably change a few more times before I actually get to a four-year college. I am very passionate about nonprofits. I'm involved with several in town, but right now I work part-time at Ozarks Counseling Center, a nonprofit that offers good quality counseling to the community regardless of inability to pay. I love making new friends but I'm painfully awkward. I'd like to consider it part of my charm! Glad to be in class, can't wait to meet you all!

Free Write 1/17/13

I can't always remember what he looks like. I remember he was taller than me but not by much at all. And I remember his hair was a strange median between blonde and brown. The boy I do remember had long hair. It came down and covered his ears. I remember an undefined chest and abdomen. But even if I try as hard as I can, his face is blank. It is a blurry mass with no eyes and no nose and no mouth. He is a faceless memory. It's odd to think that at a point that face was all I ever thought about. It was burned into my skull. I remember thinking 'how could I ever let this face go?' I never would have accepted it then if someone had told me one day I wouldn't remember what his face looks like. But now, its a relief. All that face holds for me now is pain. And maybe that's why it's blank in my head. I can't always remember what he looks like. But everything else is so sickeningly clear. All the memories and all the emotions. Those are painfully unforgettable.

Free Write 1/15/13

There is a farris wheel. It's slow at the peak but speeds on its descend. The air around me is dark. I want to get off the farris wheel but I'm trapped inside. It keeps repeating. Around and around I'm dragged and I'm screaming that I want off. There is no ground beneath the farris wheel, there is no concrete state fair lot or carnival space. Everywhere around me is a dark abyss. And I cannot get off this farris wheel. My throat aches from screaming and there is a sour taste of panic in my mouth. I'm shaking and my sweating palms grip the iron bar that hold me down into the seat. My seat rises slowly, a sluggish ascend and it builds my anticipation. I know the tip is coming. I start to see the empty space present past the top of the wheel. Then I'm jerked downward, falling into a wirlwind of skrieches and terror before the seat swings at the curve and again there is a moment of calm as I begin the climb again. The repeat is maddening. The realization that this is eternal; a constant cycle of fast and slow and up and down and I'm strapped into the stream with no way of escape. There is no one in the darkness to hear my calls for help. There is no light.