Wednesday, January 26
Anger and Guilt (My Father)
I can't take it. My hands are quivering, I've almsot burst into tears, my poor sister is going through hell, and I just want to rush in and save her. But I can't. He's drunk. He won't listen to reason. He's dead set on this. He always is. But he was doing so well! He hadn't had an outburst like this in a relatively long time! He's the reason I've so afflicted by guilt. He's the reason my sister gets so angry. I can't even type this, it's like a panic attack that I have when I perform. Ugh. Kafka, I empathize.
And it all went to Hell in a Handbasket.
Today was a bad day admidst an already disappointing and depressing semester. To start off the day I got a 33/52 on a quiz in Calculus. It's catastrophic, really, because we already get very few points in that class. So now I've got to be nigh on perfect until spring break if I want an A. That means I have to study. I can't just know the material, I actually have to really, really know the material. I can't make stupid mistakes. I am going to be really stressed.
Then in Humanities I argued the side of The Daily Show for 45 minutes against mostly haters. Fortunately David Duncan and to a lesser extent Zaq were on my side, but it wasn't easy. I didn't even get to say that I'm often inspired by some of the people that come on. It wasn't that upsetting though. What was was talking to Mr. Ross for thirty minutes afterwards. I see a whole lot of startling similarities between us, so I thought it might be wise to hear his opinions on life, existentialism, etc. and see how he handles them. Essentially, I think I could very well turn into him if I don't find someone I really love that bolsters me as much I hope to bolster them. Mr. Ross committed the cardinal sin of doing what others wanted from you instead of doing what you yourself want, and it's plagued him to this day. He too has the bipolar dark and light (like my high and low) scenario that routinely afflicts him. He also refuses to take medicine for it (as the medicine seemed to create a steady stream of apathy similiar to the kind Sugue mentioned loathing). He's learned to accept the dark, and I'm afraid I will too. However I don't feel his sense of responsibility, so my hold on this existence is tenuous at best. And nothing's really going to change that until I get out of college and begin my actual career. Love admittedly helps, but love is an illogical, imperfect device that can hurt as much as help. I do so want it to help though. Time, space, and walls... I need some dynamite.
Anyway, what upsets me about talking to Mr. Ross is that I'm afraid he'll have higher expectations for me. I hate expectations. That's why I always fail at entertainment, because expectations are high. I need them to be low. That in turn causes me to have a sense of worthlessness and low self-esteem, but the alleviation of stress is worth the tradeoff. I hate disappointment. I just want to apologize for everyone and get forgiveness, because I really don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to work things out. But things have a nasty habit of falling apart instead of working out. So, on my list of things I need are glue, more studying, perfection, love, low expectations, and dynamite. I am a mess of a person, aren't I?
Then in Humanities I argued the side of The Daily Show for 45 minutes against mostly haters. Fortunately David Duncan and to a lesser extent Zaq were on my side, but it wasn't easy. I didn't even get to say that I'm often inspired by some of the people that come on. It wasn't that upsetting though. What was was talking to Mr. Ross for thirty minutes afterwards. I see a whole lot of startling similarities between us, so I thought it might be wise to hear his opinions on life, existentialism, etc. and see how he handles them. Essentially, I think I could very well turn into him if I don't find someone I really love that bolsters me as much I hope to bolster them. Mr. Ross committed the cardinal sin of doing what others wanted from you instead of doing what you yourself want, and it's plagued him to this day. He too has the bipolar dark and light (like my high and low) scenario that routinely afflicts him. He also refuses to take medicine for it (as the medicine seemed to create a steady stream of apathy similiar to the kind Sugue mentioned loathing). He's learned to accept the dark, and I'm afraid I will too. However I don't feel his sense of responsibility, so my hold on this existence is tenuous at best. And nothing's really going to change that until I get out of college and begin my actual career. Love admittedly helps, but love is an illogical, imperfect device that can hurt as much as help. I do so want it to help though. Time, space, and walls... I need some dynamite.
Anyway, what upsets me about talking to Mr. Ross is that I'm afraid he'll have higher expectations for me. I hate expectations. That's why I always fail at entertainment, because expectations are high. I need them to be low. That in turn causes me to have a sense of worthlessness and low self-esteem, but the alleviation of stress is worth the tradeoff. I hate disappointment. I just want to apologize for everyone and get forgiveness, because I really don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to work things out. But things have a nasty habit of falling apart instead of working out. So, on my list of things I need are glue, more studying, perfection, love, low expectations, and dynamite. I am a mess of a person, aren't I?
Tuesday, January 25
Do you know why nostalgia is bittersweet? There's no hope attached. Memories are moments that are over, complete, finished. Most will never be repeated. None will be repeated in the same way. You yearn for them, you want them again, but there is no possible way they'll be realized. We need hope. I need hope. Not delusion, but hope. I need it immediately, not 5 or 10 years from now. I'll have to find some. But where to look...
Sunday, January 23
Thursday, January 20
Metamorphosis a la FANBULOUS
Here's the plan: It's a satire. Guy (or girl) goes to bed and the very next morning wakes up gay (like Gergor Samsa waking up as a beetle; they can decide to be gay or have it magically thrust upon them, since apparently one can be "turned"). Their family isolates them and then they kill themselves. It's genius! (Not for me though, one of you write it.)