Genius.

The Making of the F-Bomb

Today's Equus reading, although comical, got me thinking about why I've got this wall built around using that ancient Anglo-Saxon term. I went Dystart (a psychiastrist in the play, for those non-Humanitians) on myself and went back to where I came into the most contact with the word.

Surprisingly, I think I've figured out my aversion to it. My family doesn't curse. Either side, rarely ever. The only time I've been exposed to cursing has been when my father is drunk and violent (in emotion/attitude, not beating me or anything). I associate the word with such negativity and anger that it's very uncomfortable to bring up. I dunno. It's an ugly word. Maybe I'm overanalyzing, but I wouldn't rule my father theory out completely.

You can Dance if you Want to

But you still won't be able to do whatever Elizabeth does.

I went to the Tennessee Children's Dance Ensemble tonight, and, much to my surprise, it was very good. Dance is a form of expression I've not been exposed to, and I still don't really understand it. It was a fantastic blend of color and sound. I tried to interpret it, but eventually I gave up and just watched. It's more of an experience than something that can be narrated. Trying to describe it in words either doesn't do it justice or comes off sounding pretentious. At least, that's how it seems to me.

In some ways it made me regret not going to past performances, but I think it being Elizabeth's last (public, or something to that effect), added a certain finality and drama to it that only enhanced the experience. I don't think another performance would be quite the same.

Beautiful.

Mmmm.... temporary success...

Hmm. I think I sense a cycle coming on. For, at the moment, I'm once again realizing I've no reason to be very depressed. My fears are so intangible that to worry about them now is proposterous. Easier said than done. But I'll say it anyway. Goodnight!

And they used to be so nice...

Meh. The depression got worse. The hope's gone, partly of my own doing and partly of reality. I think I'd be a better English teacher than Math teacher. I don't know if I'll be able to get through Math in college, which is hard because I have to keep a 3.75 GPA. I want to get certified for English and Math, but it will be a lot of work and I don't know if I can keep up. I want to skip college and start the career I envision. I don't care what I'd miss in college, I just can't take this uncertainty and stress with too little positive influences. College will only be worse. Encouragement seems to fall on deaf ears. It's nice that you guys try though. I really do appreciate it. Ellen's "Peace!" actually did help. It's amazing you people don't just give up and let me wallow in whatever it is I wallow in. Maybe it's enough to keep me afloat. Time will tell.

I worry too much.

Pleasant Dreams

are a ruse. I'm convinced they don't exist. My dreams are all unwanted, either assaults of repressed desires or products of stress and fear. I've been having nightmares most every night for the past few weeks, and I think my sleep has been suffering for it. The dreams... they're all rough. Illogically so, but they're dreams after all. It's a constant barrage of pressure. Escapism can't cure it. In fact, I'm playing my game in many of my dreams and it's often bleak or downright stressful.

Wish me peace. I don't care about pleasant or happy or blissful. Just give me some confounded peace of mind, body, and soul. Curse you self. I'll see you in Hell! If they have mirrors, that is.