What Can I Say?

I'm sorry it's been so long, but I suppose it's a bit tiresome to put off posting so long and then apologize. I need to accept the fact that it's probably going to happen a lot, and then be honest with you about it. I had plenty of time this past semester to write. It was my easiest semester ever, but I couldn't find the drive to do it. This will probably happen a lot, and there's not much I can do about it. I'm sorry, but I'll try to stop repeating that like a broken record. From now on, I'll just get straight to the post.

This last semester was hard emotionally. At least, the first few weeks were. I see the pattern now. I always get depressed after I spend a period of time with my family and then have to go back to school where I spend the majority of my time all alone in my room. The sudden loneliness shocks my system. But it had never been as bad as it was last semester. The loneliness hit me really hard because my parents had been so nice to me all summer. Not like the first time I left home, a year and a half ago. I hadn't felt as close to them then as I did this summer.

One thing that made it worse was that I'd realized, over the summer, how plump I'd gotten. I started exercising, but it didn't help much the first month or two. And when my mom dropped me off at the dorms for Fall Semester, I made what I thought was normal conversation, but it was all negative observations about my new room. She sternly told me, "Don't complain. It's not pretty." I was struck when I realized, not only was she right, but also I'd gotten into the habit of complaining to everyone about anything I could. I'd started doing this because I seemed to hear everyone else complaining in regular conversation. I always have a complaint or two, so it was perfect that I was able to fall back on that when I needed to say something or else look rude or dumb. But my mom was right: it wasn't pretty; I wasn't pretty; and I'd let everyone hear me complain. Did they ALL think I was fat and ugly? They must have, I thought. It couldn't have escaped them. Could they possibly even like me? No. Anyone who had ever been nice to my had only been pretending.

Sometime over the summer, I'd given up hope that I'd find a True Friend. I realized this the day I got back to school and mom left me. On that day, I also remembered my old deduction that my parents started being nicer to me when I started doing really well in college. I ended last year's spring and summer sessions with straight A's (discounting "minuses"). That's why they were so great to me this summer. That was the only reason. I was deluding myself to think that I was any less alone with them this last summer than I had been the summer before, when we hadn't gotten along. I told myself this but didn't want to believe it.

Feeling the pressure of new classes, all openly promising to be "advanced" and "difficult," I comforted myself by thinking that if I really couldn't handle college, I could just go home. It might seem to you that I was betraying my dreams. That's how it seemed to me too, but the fact is that material dreams are nothing when you're all alone. Even if my mother knew how ugly I was, she still loved me. I couldn't say that of anyone else. If I could only hear her say that I "could always come home," I might find enough motivation to keep going.

The afternoon of my first day of classes, I called my mom and voiced my thoughts. Specifically, I told her how hard classes sounded and how I wished I could just take the semester off and stay at home. At first, she just nervously coughed and said I'd have to get a job then. This would have dissuaded me a year earlier, but all I said this time was, "I know." That just irritated her. She told me to think of how hard it is for international students, who have to pay so much more than I do. She told me I might as well go to school now while we have the money to pay for it. She told me to think of how lucky I was.

Whenever I feel lonely, sad, angry, or in any way dissatisfied, my brain echoes comments like my mother's. Echoes I try to suppress, because let me tell you something, comments like that are the best way to make yourself feel infantile, spoiled, and worthless.

Hearing them from my mom that day, I broke. I told her quickly I had to go and hung up. And I cried. I cried like I hadn't cried in years. I cried in the way that makes your whole face, throat, chest, and stomach ache and your arms and legs buzz numbly. I cried because I saw it was true that my parents were only nice to me because I was doing well in school; take that away, and they'd be just as irate with me as they were before college. I cried because, yes, I WAS lucky, but I wasn't happy, and if Mom couldn't help me feel better, then no one could. I cried because I gave up hope.

See, on top of all this, I had to admit that I NEVER seem to be happy. If it's not one thing, it's another. All through my life. With one exception, I can only remember being one of three things in all my years: unhappy, very mildly unhappy, or giddy. These giddy times -- they always seemed like real happiness as I experienced them, but looking back, I just can't see them as being any different than extended sugar highs. I feel only shame when I remember them. I feel like the only times in my life I was real were the bad times. I've had many more bad times than good times anyhow. On that day I called my mom, I could only think that maybe it was my fault. Maybe I was incapable of happiness. And if I never HAD been happy, I never would be happy.

It felt so certain.

I felt so weak.

Why didn't anyone else ever seem to hit these abysmal lows? Why didn't anyone else seem so sad and lonely? Why didn't anyone else cry when they couldn't be close to their moms anymore? I apologized to myself for being weak and promised to be better, but that only made me feel worse.

I couldn't stop crying. It's a bit of a blur. At times like that, internally, I scurry around frantically, trying to find paths forward. You need to move forward, even if you think you're trapped, because if you don't move forward, you'll be stuck in that painful place forever. You need to find something, anything to make yourself feel better. What to do, what to do?

I considered suicide. It was basically the first time I seriously (albeit feverishly and surreally) considered it. I felt like "that would show mom," and I'll admit that I wanted to do it all the more BECAUSE I said on here that I'd never commit suicide. Since that was on record, it would prove how far my mom had pushed me. (She doesn't even know about this blog.) The only thing that stopped me was thinking that God probably wouldn't like me committing suicide.

I tried eHarmony. I figured that was the best place to find a friend. No matches though, which didn't even surprise me in the dismal state of mind I occupied.

Somehow, someway, that horribly day ended. For the next few days, I felt really ugly and any human interaction was a terror. Till one day when an RA was friendly and nice to me, and that was all it took. Life was bearable again. Not good, but bearable.

For the months that followed, I had to reconsider my earlier conviction that whatever didn't kill me would make me stronger. For the longest time, I only felt frailer. I felt like a sheet of printer paper that had been turned into tracing paper. During that time, I listened often to Kesha's Hungover, and I realized that my heart was broken. It broke on that day, and since then, nothing had mended it. It took a while, but time mended me, and I feel like printer paper again. The rest of the semester was ok.

The classes weren't nearly as hard as they professed to be. For the first two months, I didn't really focus on school. I focused on getting through each day. I've ended up with five A's and B. I feel kinda bad about the B, but considering I don't feel like I learned a whole lot this semester, I suppose it's reflective.

I feel like I should have learned something big from all this, but I didn't. I'm going to list some small things though, because I feel like I should leave you with something more than a sad story.

1. I need to be ok with my own pain before I can be of any use to myself or others. When I deny that I'm in pain, I just feel even worse, and I'm so awkward and useless when other people show their pain. This is because my mom looks at anyone who is open about their pain as touchy feely and whiny, and she passed that attitude on to me. I don't want to look at it that way anymore.

2. This may only feel like the lowest of my all-time lows because it's the most recent. It obviously wasn't the first time I crashed and burned and lived in an emotional ditch for an extended amount of time, and it won't be the last. I used to say that I knew I'd always get through these lows. I don't know that anymore, and it's almost nice to let go of that expectation.

3. "How do you get up from an all-time low?" According to my recent experience, you don't ever really "get up." Not on the same legs as before. I had to grow entirely new legs. It was like I reverted to tadpole stage, and I had to grow into a frog again. I'm reminded of that line from Lilo and Stitch: "Every time an asteroid strikes their planet, they have to begin life all over." Haha! =)

4. Never give up hope. You can soldier on without many provisions but not without hope.

I haven't forgotten I promised I'd publish my post on true love last summer and I failed to follow through. I really want to post that one, but I just don't know when I'll be able to. In fact, this probably sounds conceited, but I feel like I have so many insightful things to say but I don't have the time and/or energy to say them, and I don't know if I ever will. . . Makes me sad. But I won't give up.

Meanwhile, to anyone who reads this, thanks. I feel better already, and I hope in some way you do too.

I've Returned!

First off: Amy, I can't seem to see your blog. If you want to invite me, I'm not sure how you do that, but my email is love.is.stronger.dp@gmail.com. =)

Now to say Hello, again! I've been on vacation for weeks now, and I'm sorry I put off writing for so long. I've just been lazy, and loving it. So I've decided not to work my butt off trying to get more followers this summer, as I had planned to do. And from the way this summer's been going, I likely won't be posting much. I'll start on my Love post right after this one, but it's the only post I have planned at all right now.

Now for a note on the past few weeks of my life. Summer classes went alright. I did better emotionally than I had during the spring semester, and I ended up with an A in Calculus 3 and an A minus in Physics 2. I came home, and it's been a good summer since. I haven't done much at all, which is okay with me.

Now to get to work!

Thanks for listening, I feel better already! =)

Spring Semester 2011-12, Part 3: Pills and Pals

In Part 2, I said how I hit a low point where I longed for a True Friend, but actually, I wanted one all semester. Just last semester, I was thinking how you don't need a significant other. You could find ways to be happy without one. I really believed it. I had friends, I enjoyed school, and I felt good. This semester, I was back to wishing as hard as ever for my True Friend. I stopped writing in my diary for the first time in five years because I didn't feel like anything in my life was worth remembering. I ate less but seemed to gain weight, probably because I was stressed and sleep-deprived. I had fairly constant heartburn. I thought a lot more than usual, NOT about committing suicide, but about suicide itself. I'm not sure why. Maybe I realized that some people commit suicide because of the very feelings I had. Knowing that, maybe I had more reason to feel sorry for myself; maybe I had more reason to believe I understood people; or maybe I just had more reason to think about suicide this semester.

I've always understood why people would kill themselves. I believe in Heaven. Who WOULDN'T want to switch their misery for Paradise? However, although I won't say that I'd never kill myself, it's not likely that I will. Some people think it takes guts, but I think the opposite. As I just said, it seems like the easy way out. I want to be brave, like the people I admire, and keep going no matter the pain. And I don't want "them" to win. I don't even know who "they" are, but it just seems like they would win if I died. So I refuse.

I just happened to think a lot about suicide this semester. That seems like a sign of depression, doesn't it? I mean, I know I was depressed, but I've begun to wonder if there's a difference between normal depression and "clinical" depression.

I don't really believe there's a difference, but it's also hard to swallow that all these health professionals could be lying when they say antidepressants will help you. In the END, I honestly don't think the pills help. I think people get depressed because something in their lives is wrong, and by taking these pills, people give themselves an excuse to NOT change their lives. By taking these pills, people give themselves an excuse to not grow as human beings. Perhaps though, by taking these pills, people also give themselves respite from the pain and strength try again later. Perhaps, even, by taking these pills, people fix their brains of the wonky hormones and chemicals that could be impeding their happiness. . . but I have a very hard time believing that.

While I'm tempted to blame my depression on hormones and chemicals, I know in the end why I'm unhappy. It's because I'm alone. It's a real reason, external to my brain, and it should cause me to change my world and myself.

Sadness is terrible in itself but can be very, very good for you. It forces you to grow and change until you've developed a new view of the world, one that will give you hope regardless of the newest addition to your list of sorrows. I'd like to skip the sorrow in life but I don't want to skip the growth.

During this semester, though, I thought more about antidepressants because I realized that while the pain I've gone through has made me stronger and better, it's a continuous cycle of pain and wellness. Pain then wellness, pain then wellness, pain pain pain then wellness. While I will always get through it, the real question is if I want to keep going through it.

Besides, this year, I had to wonder if I'd brought it on myself. My friends may have alienated me, but I kind of alienated them back. I wondered if I couldn't handle being happy, if I just HAD to dig up sadness for myself, if I myself have always been the cause of the cycle. If so, didn't that mean there was SOMETHING wrong with my brain, something that pills might help? But no.

See, for instance, I thought a lot about my friend, J, this year, and changed my mind many times, but so far, I've decided she wasn't a good friend to me and wasn't compassionate to others. I don't want to be around people like that. I'm better off without her. In distancing myself from her, I was aiming to lessen her influence on me till she couldn't hurt me anymore. That's not crazy, and it doesn't mean I need pills to fix my brain. I figure that I'm just as alone now as I was when she was my friend. I just don't hold as many illusions now. 'Course, I change my mind a lot on this issue, and maybe she wasn't that bad. I don't think she meant to hurt me. But that doesn't change the fact that she did. She was inconsiderate at best. . . See?

At least, I do seem better at distancing myself from her. I can be civil to her in a "Howdy, Stranger" kind of way, like I am to most people. I still hurt when she overlooks me though. I switched back and forth from hating her to implementing new plans to "forgive her" or "get over it" while we were both still alive and at school together, so that I could be a little happier. However, while it seems that civil discussion SHOULD help, there's not much you can say to a person like her. She's the kind who will never be able to believe she's done anything wrong.

This semester, I told her I was frustrated she didn't keep in touch. At least, I said, "You never text me anymore," in as frustrated a voice as I could. She lightheartedly replied that she "didn't text anyone anymore." She was "trying to focus on school this year." Yet, I seemed to see her texting all the time, and somehow she managed to get together with all her other friends every night for dinner, and according to one of those friends, none of them were doing their homework. Last semester, it was the same thing. I'd get after J for something and she'd come back at me with endless excuses.

I obviously can't talk to her, so I distanced myself, but if it's helping with the pain, it's working very slowly. Besides, it scares me because I'm not sure if it's weird to care that much about a friend. If she's any indication of normal, then it's very weird. I was scared someone would think I was a lesbian, when I'm pretty sure I'm not and I hate being misunderstood. I think I only care so much because it always hurts when people neglect me, especially those I used to trust. Maybe, as with many pains, I just have to wait until it fades.

Even after that pain fades, I'll still be alone, which I know is why I'm depressed. In order to get better, I need to shake this loneliness. The most obvious and perfect way to do this would be to find my True Friend. I'll get into exactly what that means in my post on Love, which I promise is coming sometime.

Anyway, this semester, I felt a strong impulse to try eHarmony or some other soul mate-finding site, to find someone who will always be with me. However -- and this makes me feel like such a whiner -- I don't have time for a soul mate. I won't have time until after college, at the earliest. At least, I don't FEEL like I have time for anyone I'd find online. Somehow, though, I always feel like I have time for anyone who just pops into my life. I don't know. I'm kind of messed up at this point anyway, and I'd like to prove that I can become wise without my soul mate, and then prove I only need my soul mate because they are my soul mate. I'm getting ahead of this post, though. The point is I didn't try anything like eHarmony this year, and I probably won't unless I get really depressed. It's possible.

But I don't think I should take pills to fix my brain. I should fix my life. You know?

In the last couple of week of school, I was starting to feel better. I spent more time than usual with my classmates. We went to a music-fest, took a box of free pizza from it, and chased people around campus asking if they wanted free pizza. We threw a folf disk around. We had long conversations about anything and everything, because we had time, because school was almost over, and I finally started feeling like writing in my journal again.

Now I've been on vacation for about a week, and I have summer classes in another week. I'm taking summer classes so that I can fit a chemistry minor into these next four years, but I kind of regret giving my summer away. It's only five weeks, but still.

I really want to post that Love post, but I don't know if I'll get to it in the next week. I'll try, but I also want more followers before I post that one. I feel I have something to say to the world, but so far, I haven't done a great job of getting the world's attention. After my summer classes, I'll try to get more followers. In the meantime, I want to encourage comments, so comment and tell me what you think about loneliness, antidepressants, and/or free pizza.

Thanks for listening, I feel better already!

Spring Semester 2011-12, Part 2: The Stories and The Agony

As I said in Part 1, I had a low point in the last month or two of school. It came after I read the first two pages of a short story for my Literature class. It was called "In Broad Daylight" by Ha Jin (I think). Don't read it. It starts with a somewhat graphic description of the old Chinese punishment of burning adulteresses alive. If the story's true, they merely beheaded male adulterers. I didn't finish the story, but I gleaned that the adulteress of this story was paraded through her Chinese town by the "Red Guards," or something like that, and her husband killed himself. From the way the professor denounced these officials for carrying out this new form of punishment, you'd think the professor didn't realize that the old form, burning alive, was worse. I mean, both are horrible, but one is definitely worse, but no one in class even mentioned how horrible the old punishment was. I was sluggish and unmotivated for a couple weeks afterward.


I'm not naiive when it comes to these things. I know that such cruelty and violence and hate towards women existed in ALL ancient cultures and many present ones. I have a hundred stories of cruelty that I can't forget and don't necessarily WANT to forget, but often, I can ignore them. It takes only one story to bring them all to the front of my mind, though, as if one wasn't enough. It takes just one story to remind me that this is a hideous world, and I don't want to be here.

I'm always scared to say this, and I never have, because I think it might make me sound pretentiously humanitarian, but the following statement true. I am in agony for all the people of the world who are being hurt, humiliated, and made to feel worthless, and all who ever have been. I can ignore the stories, and then, I feel only a slight ache in the corners of my heart, and it doesn't bother me TOO much. But the stories and The Agony are so readily called up and fanned into fires.

Some people have such an attitude of "How dare you complain about the state of the world? 90% of your life is beautiful." I've let them keep me from saying just how upset I am, but seriously? I know I have good things in my life and maybe I should be more grateful, but how dare THEY try and keep me from empathizing with people? That's all I'm doing. I'm not saying my life is that bad, or that the world is all bad, but I won't pretend that it's good either. Why shouldn't I be upset? Do they think I can't truly be empathizing with people if I haven't actually been through what they have?

I have a good imagination, if I do say so myself. I have a dime-sized scar on my knee where I burned myself when I was little. Around which time, I also stepped on red-hot embers in bare feet. (I wasn't trying to, obviously. I was just careless.) I've been cut, bruised, embarrassed, ignored, and dealt injustices, and I CAN imagine what it might be like to experience those pains on a larger scale. I can imagine what it might be like to be burned alive. I won't apologize for feeling so low after reading that story.

The Agony is actually a huge part of my life, and I want to write pages about it, but right now, I don't know what I'd say. It's just always there, has been for years, and probably always will be. It's the reason I need people to distract me, and more than that, I want someone to BE like me. After reading that story, as I always do when I'm in agony, I wished for someone I could really talk to, for someone who would completely understand, for just one person who is as haunted by The Agony as I am. But I didn't even have anyone to distract me from it, which brings me back to this semester and my lack of a True Friend, which I'll get more into in Part 3: Pills and Pals.

Spring Semester 2011-12, Part 1: Grades and Loneliness

Hi!

I'm off school for a couple weeks before I start my summer classes. I wish to update you on my life.

This semester was obviously harder than the last.

Academically, it was okay, but I was very lonely and sad. I got all A's (including the A- I got in math)! I was only taking fourteen credits this semester, so even though I had to learn a greater amount of new material this semester than I had to learn last semester, I worked less this semester.

I have a bad habit, though, of using any spare time I have for the purpose of procrastinating. Sometimes, when I procrastinate, I make the work even more stressful than when I have no time to relax. When I put work off until the last minute, I sometimes panic, wondering if I'll get done at all. With the looming possibility that I won't get done, I lose some motivation to try. With the loss of motivation, I lose some love for the subject matter.

I would probably die if I lost ALL love for what I'm studying and if I started feeling lost again. After all, these past months, I've been so sure this was my path in life. Luckily, however, I somehow always finished my work in time, and I didn't face the kind the academic despair that would cause me to lose all love for the material. I mean, I failed one math test and turned in one paper 15 minutes late, but it never got much worse than that. I credit God with getting me through the semester with such success in spite of the way I was feeling and in spite of how much I procrastinated.

As for my emotional state this semester, well...As I've said previously, I was very alone.

I've never had anyone I could REALLY talk to, but I've usually had someone to distract me from painful thoughts. This year, I had that distraction during class-time, when I was listening to lectures, walking between classes, and talking to classmates. That was when I felt okay, during class-time.

Back at my effective "home," the dorms, however, I no longer had the friend I was closest to last year. And my other close friend was taking nineteen credits. She was always busy and exhausted, and I don't blame her. Still, she left me with no one at "home" to distract me. This situation was even worse because I had comparatively massive amounts of free time, time to think about my loneliness. In addition to that, I had become  unfamiliar with the very sensation of being alone. I felt really weird without people keeping track of me and keeping plans with me. I was almost in physical pain, for the first couple months of the year.

Nonetheless, just as I did with the very same feelings BEFORE college, I got used to them. I stopped feeling weird and unsafe at the fact that no one knew where I was at any one time. Before I went to college, I had recognized my tendency to use other people to distract me from my fear and pain. I had realized that, rather than alleviating those emotions, other people (usually my family) constantly aggravated them. I was slowly learning to stop seeking other people out. I was learning to find other ways of distracting myself. I started relearning those ways this semester. I'd watch Youtube, listen to music, etc. I stopped feeling quite so bad.

Of course, there's nothing quite like a conversation to distract and entertain.

I was in a stable state of pain for the rest of the semester. Most of it. I had at least one memorable low, which I will tell you all about in Part 2: The Stories and The Agony. . . In case you're wondering, I'm having fun naming the parts, yes. =)

Call Me "A Really Late Thanksgiving Post"

I decided I am still dissatisfied with the state I've left my blog in, and to try and remedy that, I will write a happy post. Maybe that will make me feel less like a whiner. This post, hence, is dedicated to Things I'm Grateful For. It's the kind of post I should have done during Thanksgiving break, but now's good too.

Things I'm Grateful For (ahem):

1. I'm grateful that I have, for the first time, a sense of direction. I know where I'm going to TRY and head in my life, and it's a wonderful feeling.

2. I'm grateful I've made the marvelous discovery in college that there are other girls out there who are not obsessed with boys. These are smart girls who focus on school and work.

3. I'm so grateful that I keep growing and changing. In this way (one of few), I'm like the people I admire. I admire people who keep changing because, I think, it's very difficult and rare. And I need to change. Honestly, I'm not a terrific person. I'm like a petty, vengeful child. I wasn't always, though, and hopefully, I won't be forever. I've already been this way for what seems like forever, but I know from experience that no matter how much I seem to be stuck in a stage of development, no matter how long I feel depressed or angry, I'll escape eventually. (I admit I have trouble BELIEVING it sometimes.) And it satisfies me to be able to look back and feel that what I went through was worth it.

4. I'm so grateful that I made it into college, made it through my first semester, and am making progress in my second semester.

5. I'm grateful I get to eat pretty much whatever I want in college.

6. I'm grateful for the upcoming 3-day weekend.

7. I'm grateful that I enjoy the subjects I'm studying.

8. I'm grateful for the pizza I had last week that looked just like the pizzas in the movies! I hadn't known that was possible. I just asked for about 3 layers of cheese. So that's the secret. In case, you wanted to know.

9. I'm grateful for last Tuesday when I went ice skating for the very first time. Besides the exceptional foot-pain (read "I'm a wimp and was complaining about it the whole time while other people hardly noticed it"), it was glorious fun.

10. I'm grateful for Invader Zim quotes. "A new child attacked me with meat. My conclusion? She's in love with me!"

11. Hercules quotes. "Indoor plumbing. It's gonna be big."

12. Quotes like these: "There is a certain immovable quality to a shore." - Stephen Crane

13. The following face:

And the suits he wears.

Does it strike anyone else how the beautiful Matthew Bomer was tailor-made for those beautiful pinstripe suits?

I just love looking at him. And his suits.



So ends "the list that could go on forever, but won't for now" in no particular order. Thanks for listening. I feel better already. Ooh! I think I've discovered how I want to sign off my posts!

The Nature of My Own Posts, and Then Some Songs

I haven't felt at all proud of most of my post-college-entrance blogging. This is partly, I think, because I wrote many of my posts with a tone of 'this is not normal, no one else will understand this.' I know that's not true, but I convinced myself it was, and I find that tone so annoying because... I know the idea behind it's not true.

Furthermore, I think I was partly ashamed of these latest posts because I wrote some of them on relatively temporary emotions, and I prefer to write about more profound, lasting things. Otherwise, when I'm done and over it, I realize I was just writing about a phase, and I don't like going through phases in the first place. Phases are deceptive. They make you think what you're feeling is going to last forever, and then they end. Just like that. I don't like even privately recalling a phase I went through, let alone knowing everyone else will be able to recall it too. For instance, last year, I wrote about some very bizarre almost-crush I had on a guy, and it's ridiculous that I felt like that at all. I want to forget that happened in real life, but good golly, I wrote about it on the internet!

No one who reads this blog even knows my real name, and I'm still worried about them knowing about my phases.

I want to delete that post, along with a few others, but I don't, because I feel like that wouldn't be honest. I need a place to be honest, and that place has been my blog for the last couple of years. They may have been phases, but when I was experiencing those emotions, I truly was experiencing those emotions. And if I keep secret any honest experience, even just honest phases, how can I say I'm being my complete self on my blog? If I let myself feel shame over any true part of me, how can I say I'm not ashamed of myself as a whole?

Then again, maybe those phases are small enough portions of life to be left unmentioned. Maybe, I don't have to put myself through further shame by posting about them. At least, not until I understand them well enough to post intelligent thoughts on them. I may still take them down.

I feel differently about some of my posts, like the ones I wrote when I was sick. I still don't like them, because of the tone I wrote them in, but they were written on lasting emotions. "2:40 AM and All is Not Well" was about me feeling lonely. Specifically, it was about me feeling lonely after a whole semester of feeling mostly UNlonely. But the loneliness was not a temporary phase. It was an old enemy. I needed last semester. I transitioned easily from lonely to connected then fell back hard to lonely, and I recognized loneliness so fully that I actually had a mini-revelation that I'd felt like that for a very long time. I just didn't recognize it completely before. That's what I think "2:40 AM" shows, sort of, and I'll almost certainly not delete that post, even though I was temporarily worse that night than I am most nights.

Anyway, one way or another, I don't want to keep writing posts I later have to wonder about deleting. I might take a break from blogging about my life for a while, unless I really need to let it out, like I did on the night of "2:40 AM."

Here, I really want to post about some songs I've been listening to lately instead.

Wasted - By Cartel

"We all feel alone every single day." Which proves that other people feel as lonely as I do. Even last semester, I had lonely moments, maybe not EVERY day, but often enough. I'd describe this song as melodic and sad, and not completely but at least half true. It does seem most people's lives are wasted, but I think every person was put here for a reason and we all have the choice to fulfill our purposes. We don't HAVE to be wasted.




Is Anybody Out There - By K'NAAN featuring Nelly Furtado

"Is anybody out there?" A plaintive and relatable cry. I'm not saying that other people don't matter, but when you're hurting -- when no one is helping you -- in a way, other people don't exist. They don't exist in relationship to your healing. Is there anybody who exists in relationship to your healing? Is there anybody who can hear you? Is there, for all intents and purposes, anybody out there?

Also, the video reminds me how horrible I am. These days, I shy away from broken-seeming weirdos in the world. I scare myself into thinking they just might be serial killers, and I keep to myself out of fear. I didn't used to. I used to think that the broken weirdos were always good guys, and while that might not be true either, at least I was willing to be kind to them. I want to be that way again, but I'm still scared and I still feel like there's nothing I can do.

Still further, this video and this song remind me that it's okay to hurt, even with all material possessions in my care. I'm not freezing, starving, or living in a mud hut, but the pain I feel is ligitimate pain nonetheless.




You - By The Pretty Reckless

I've never had a boyfriend, but somehow I can relate to this song. I can relate because of friends and crushes I've had, and just through my imagination. I've been crying over stories of unrequited love since I was twelve. The Little Mermaid. The Phantom of the Opera. Even Lemony Snicket. For some reason, they strike a chord deep, deep in my heart. It's hard for me to imagine anything more painful than unrequited love.

In the video, she's obviously watching a sex tape, and I'd usually find something like that inappropriate to spread around, but I couldn't bear to just post a lyric video. Taylor Momsen's expressions are so evocative. You hear her and know how she's feeling, but you LOOK at her and you FEEL how she's feeling. It's really amazing.

As a plus, it's very refreshing to hear a girl sing about tragedy in love without sounding 100% whiny like Taylor Swift sounds. Just saying.





That's it for now. I'm on Spring Break, so I may post more, but I wouldn't count on it. =) Happy Upcoming St. Patrick's Day, everyone!

Oh, People

Well, thank God for blogs. I really needed an outlet last night. Sometimes it helps just to say something out loud or out...typing...or something. So, I emailed all my teachers today and stayed home sick. I slept all day, but it never felt refreshing. Does it ever, when you're sick? But in the afternoon, I called my mom, just to let her know. I felt kinda guilty about missing all my classes today, and I know it's weird, but I had to tell someone. And she surprised me. She said she wished she could be here to take care of me, and she sounded like she really meant it. It made me cry, but I tried to cover up with my painfully sore throat sounds. And then I texted my dorm friend, and she bought me some food and juice and ibuprofen and Nyquil. It was very touching. Aren't people funny? It's like they're allergic to doing what you expect them to. Anyway. loads of homework awaits! Thanks to anyone who's reading this. It makes me feel better to be able to even imagine that someone hears. =)

2:40 AM and All's Not Well

I don't know if it's happened again or if this is something new, something I'll pull through. I've been very unhappy in this, my second semester at college. I was terrified this would happen. Again. In my second year of online classes, my senior year, I lost all drive to keep going. I think part of the reason I did this was because online classes were no longer new and exciting by the second time around. So, even though I was terrified I'd lose motivation in my first semester, I knew it was even more likely in my second semester of college. In my senior year in high school, I WANTED to do well in school. I really did, but I just couldn't bring myself to try. It was so much easier to sleep, and that's what I ended up doing most of the time.

It hasn't been quite THAT bad this semester, but still, I've been unhappy, and it's quite a loss to go straight from being okay one semester to decidedly sad the next. I wrote a post on this earlier in the year, but never got around to editing and posting it. Maybe I will later. Anyway, I started off this year depressed in big part thanks to losing my friends. My cafeteria friend and particularly my friend J who ditched me for her other friends and hasn't called or texted me once this year. I still have my other friend in the dorms and my other friend in electrical engineering and a couple other people who's company I enjoy, but I can't really talk to any of them. I certainly can't go over to their rooms in the middle of the night to chat and relieve my anxieties, like I used to do with J. Everyone else keeps somewhat normal hours.

In a word, lonely is what I've felt this semester. Utterly lonely. And sad. It's not unfamiliar to feel this way. I used to at home all the time, but I find myself wishing I was at home at lot this semester, because at least there, there's someone around, someone making noise, someone I could say SOMETHING to any time I felt like, even if it wasn't a very nice something. This year, there's no one nearby that I could go up and say hi to. I often feel like, at any one moment, no one knows where I am or how I'm doing. I could be dead, all tied up in garbage bags in a dumpster, and no one would know.

Basically, I'm not feeling so well this semester. Academically, I've been doing fine, I suppose, but then this weekend happened, and I got sick. It was a three-day weekend I've been looking forward to since Day 1 of this semester. I got to go home, see a movie, eat out, and I was supposed to do homework too, but I didn't. It was very stupid of me. Because yesterday, I got sick. My mom brought me back to the dorms. I spent a miserable night doing a crappy job of writing my lab report while my nose was congested and my throat stung and I tried to grab a couple Z's as well.

Today, I was tired and sick, so I emailed my teacher to say I wouldn't be in class today. I didn't feel that bad about it because I only have one class on Tuesdays and nothing really happens in it. I tried to sleep all day, and got a few hours, and felt better than I had in the morning, but still not good. I got up to do a few things I had to do, then I came back to my room and tried to do physics. But I slept. And then physics just seemed really hard, and I knew I couldn't get all my homework done and I got very frustrated. I knew I could do it if I wasn't sick physically. I could even do it if I wasn't sick emotionally. But seeing as I am both, I won't get through it. Not tonight.

And then, finally, the tears could come. I need to do my physics homework because the quiz tomorrow will be based on the homework, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. I need to do my calculus homework because supposedly this homework set will take a long time and I'm only going to get more homework tomorrow and I have a quiz on this stuff on Friday, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. I needed to do my chemistry homework because the quiz tomorrow will be based on THAT homework, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. But I need to get some sleep too because I'm sick and I won't be able to do well tomorrow if I don't get any sleep and I'm sick. I need to get some sleep to even be able to do this homework, because I feel too awful to do it right now. And I don't see how I'm going to make it through college at all if I'm going to be feeling like this all the time. Like crap. This is senior year all over again. I'm already so behind, and I'm going to lose motivation to catch up, because it's going to seem too hard for me. I'm going to fail college. This is what I was thinking. Part of it.

I often cry when I'm sick. I can't stand being sick, especially when my nose gets all clogged up and my whole face aches because of it. It wasn't even that bad, though, this cold. I wasn't in THAT much pain. But it was everything that was adding up, piling on: my loneliness, my homework, my despair, and my physical discomfort. I wished the cold would go away. I wished I could get my homework done. I wished I didn't have to be scared of losing motivation. And I wished most of all for someone. You know, someone. I wished -- no, I WISH for someone who didn't care what time of night it was, who'd come to me from however far away they were RIGHT NOW WHEN I NEEDED THEM, who'd hold my hand and rub my back and talk to me and let me cry. I feel so pathetic for crying. I feel like everyone else is happy and smiling and getting on with their lives in spite of the pains we all have to endure, and I'm crying over a stupid cold. I wish for someone who'd show me they still love me in spite of how weak and pathetic I am with tears pouring down my face.

I paced around my room, blowing my nose constantly and loudly and hoping everyone who heard assumed it was only my cold and couldn't hear my sobs. I briefly kind of almost considered calling my mom and telling her how sick and unhappy I am and how I want to quit and come home. But I know what she'd say. She'd tell me to keep my chin up and press on for just another three weeks and then we could see each other again over spring break. She'd tell me, "What do you want from me?" She's not the kind to consider driving two hours in the middle of the night in the middle of the week to see someone. I can't really blame her, when she has so many problems of her own, real problems, and she has a job she needs to be at in the morning. But if I'd called her, I'd be exactly where I started, except I'd also be humiliated. You know, like most people, I've never had anyone who would be there for me exactly when I needed them and know exactly what to say. I've never had anyone who could actually help me with my problems.

But, God, I wish I did.

Anyway, I blew my nose raw and cried my eyes sore, and now I have a strong feeling my face is going to look like a marshmallow tomorrow. So I'm going to have a sick day. It should at least be interesting. It's the first one I've taken. I don't really consider today a sick day, because I only had one class. But I have four tomorrow, and I'll be missing a lot of important stuff in all of them, quizzes and such. And I still have my homework I was supposed to have done by today, so I'll have to work twice as hard. Hopefully, I'll get over my cold through the night and be able to do that. It would also be nice to sit in bed and watch movies, like some people do on sick days. But then, you see? Isn't this like my senior year? I'm skipping classes when it seems they'll be hard to go to, and I'm thinking instead of watching movies in bed. I hope to God it's not going to happen to me again. (I'm not using the Lord's name in vain anywhere in this post. I'm actually saying it to God. Just so you know.)

Good night.

Review of Skulduggery Pleasant Death Bringer

Sorry, should have done this sooner, but big spoilers in blue.

I finally got the book and a break from school in which to read it, Skulduggery Pleasant Death Bringer by Derek Landy. I'm depressed and disappointed in it. Basically, I didn't like any of the characters and I downright hated Valkyrie Cain.

In previous books, Valkyrie was tolerable but nothing special, character-wise. In this book, she's thoroughly dislikable. Mainly and most importantly, she cheats on her boyfriend. First of all, this comes out of nowhere, since, in the last book, she walked away from they guy she was cheating with in this book. He and she kissed in the last book, but I was willing to forgive her for that because it was mostly his fault and she stopped it and she walked away from him. Twice.

I'd call a one-time kiss-cheat a mistake, sure. However, in this book, she's a willing chronic cheater. In this book, Skulduggery calls her behavior a mistake. When you cheat repeatedly, it's not a "mistake." It's a habit. It's a way of life. It's your personality. It's who you are.

Maybe I'm the only person in the world who feels this way, but in the list of Worst Possible Things You Can Do To a Person, I place cheating in the Top Ten. I put it up there along with torture, because from what I've heard -- and I've always thought so anyway -- the worst part of torture is the emotional destruction that remains long, long after the physical. Well, being cheated on can destroy a person emotionally too.

Yet here Skulduggery was saying he wasn't mad at Val and her cheating was a "mistake." That makes it sound so much more innocent than it is. The whole book made it sound more innocent that it is. A common argument in situations like this is that the book is just being true to the characters. The character of Edward is just obsessive and controlling, and the character of Bella is just submissive and fawning. Here, Val is just unfaithful and Skul is just permissive. That may be true, but first of all, it wouldn't make me like the characters any better, and secondly, the book can still send the message that its characters are wrong. But it doesn't. Death Bringer doesn't. Not really. Not enough.

Val hardly gets any flack for cheating on her boyfriend. She may call herself a bad person when chatting light-heartedly to her baby sister, but it's not enough just to point it out. Words without followthrough are dead. If she really thought she was a bad person, she'd do something about it. She'd at least FEEL something about it. But Val wasn't exactly racked with guilt over cheating on her boyfriend. She was heartless. She hardly thought about it. She feels bad for Fletcher once or twice for the look he had on his face when she broke up with him, but she never felt real shame or guilt for cheating on him. She never felt that bad about herself.

In fact, by the end of the book, she's saying how she doesn't need a boyfriend to tell her how awesome she is, because she already KNOWS it. And if anything, that's the moral the book leaves you with. Not that you shouldn't cheat (although maybe that you shouldn't cheat with VAMPIRES), not that it's despicable and wrong (Skulduggery just points out Fletcher was just always destined to be Val's ex). The book left you with the moral that you don't need someone else to tell you you're amazing.

I'm all for loving yourself regardless of little embarrasments or sinless flubs, but not regardless of ruining the lives of people around you. If you do THAT and still think you're awesome? You're disgusting. If you ask me, Val definitely doesn't need someone to tell her how awesome she is. She needs someone to tell her what a creep she is. Repeatedly. Until she GETS it. (If that's possible. Most creeps like her don't ever get that they're creeps.)

She even gets on Fletcher's case for joking about cheating on her. What a hypocrite. And as I said, Skulduggery does nothing about it but call the cheating a mistake and feed Val's ego over the course of the book. China excuses Val's cheating on the oh-so-solid grounds of natural teenage lust for excitement and sex. Ghastly meekly and and briefly mentions it. And no one else says anything about it to Val. Except Fletcher, at about the middle of the book, when they break up.

At this point, I'd gone through half the book with my hate for Val steadily growing along with my despair. The book was painting cheaters in a lenient light to say the least. It kept saying how Val was so freaking beautiful, powerful, skillful, and smart and no one could say anything to her about the wrongs she'd done. She was seeming more and more like a spoiled Mary Sue who could get away with anything she wanted with hardly a slap on the wrist. And then hope reared its deceptive head when Fletcher finally said all this out loud in-story. Finally, someone says it...

But then Fletcher was painted as an angry, jealous boyfriend, and THEN he said he wanted her to take him back, and THEN even he was making excuses for her, saying she wasn't trying to be mean or anything. Good golly, it was disappointing.

She didn't even apologize. Three pages from the end, she said something RESEMBLING an apology, but by then, it was way too little to late. I hadn't even felt sorry for her when Melancholia cut her up. In fact, through most of the book, I found myself rooting against her. I found it preferrable that she would die than that she would continue on to all these romantic teases obviously opening up to her, all these boys she'd probably treat just as badly, all this romantic happiness up for grabs to this cheater. Thing-resembling-an-apology or no, by the last page, I still hated her.

Aside from the cheating, I couldn't sympathize with Valkyrie anyway because Valkyrie never needed sympathizing. I'd hoped this book would show that losing Kenspeckle and other friends had really gotten to Val. But she thought of Kenspeckle only once and Tanith maybe twice in the whole book. Melancholia attacks Valkyrie to hurt her emotionally, but Valkyrie herself admits she feels no emotional pain whatsoever over the experience. Basically, nothing affects Valkyrie to an appreciable extent, and it's very boring.

As for Skulduggery, is it me or did it seem like he didn't do anything in this book? It probably is just me, but most of the time, he just sort of faded into the background. Sure, he helped save the world, but aside from his disappointingly mild reactions to everything Val did, he didn't do anything surprising as a character. It was supposed to be surprising that he was Lord Vile, but I just felt like I already knew that. Well, not THAT specifically, but that he had been a horrible, senseless killer in the war. It was hinted at. I just thought he was on the good guy's side while he was a murderer.

Anyway, in this book, there was not even one instance of surprising kindness on Skul's part, and that surprising kindness was what made me like him the first book, what I liked most about the fifth book. In this book, he didn't even make me laugh. He was so gray. (GRAY, you understand. Those who skim may have read it as something else. Just saying.) I didn't care much what he did, even in the parts that hinted at a Skul/Val pairing, and there were quite a few, with Skul seeing the reflection naked, buying Val a skimpy dress, and just being what everyone said Val needed -- someone who matched her.

First, I didn't even want Val to get Skulduggery after how despicable she was in this book, and second, I didn't really care about Skul's happiness in this book. I didn't care about him or if he ever fell in love again or whatever.

Also, maybe, it's just that I've changed, but Skul and Val actually seemed mean this time around. They picked on each other, and more importantly, they picked on people around them who were perhaps weaker, less confident. Fletcher's the perfect example. They laughed at his expense the entire book, even after the cheating and the break up, right down to the last showdown between Darquesse and Lord Vile.

Furthermore, Skul and Val may get beat up physically but ALWAYS seem to be on top psychologically. They are always smiling, confident, strong, and laughing their heads off, and they're enemies are always angry, scared, hurt, and pathetic. This arrangement is not only boring, but Skul and Val are unrelatable and look like arrogant bullies because of it.

It was extremely refreshing for them to finally experience some psychological turbulence when Tenebrae spilled Skulduggery's secret about being Vile. Something finally got to Val. It didn't last long though. A couple chapters and Val had forgiven Skul, as she should have, but any normal person would still have felt twisted up about it. Val just got over it.

The rest of the characters are hardly worth noting. The only ones who made me laugh were Finbar, Clarabelle, and Scapegrace (whose abuse of Thrasher still got very tiresome). And I hated China just as much as ever. Six books have done nothing to endear her to me.

Plot-wise, it was very intricate and plotsy. Characters coming from every angle with every sort of agenda. Battles were fought, secrets revealed, and it all should have been very exciting, but I was very distracted by the Valkyrie problem. I was flatout TIRED of reading about her, and I didn't care about Skulduggery anymore. Without characters I cared about, the intense plot was wasted on me. I just couldn't enjoy it. Besides, it seemed like a lot of scenes didn't contribute anything to the plot, most of the scenes at the ball for instance. They just stood around talking about the war that happened hundreds of years ago to characters we've never met.

And another thing. Again, maybe it was just me, but this book seemed awfully preachy and the messages awfully depressing. It seemed like characters stopped several times to just stand there and repeat things they'd already said. One message was something about who people really are or aren't, or maybe it was about mood swings. I didn't really get it. One message was how Val and Skul didn't need anyone else to tell them how great they were. Another message was what seems to be a common modern message about teenage dating, which is that "It's bad to be obesessive, so it's good to be dismissive."

This message came through in the way Caelan got much more abuse for being obsessive than Val got for being unfaithful; it came through in the way China condoned Val's behavior because "no one your age" is looking for love; it came through in the way Skulduggery told Val she should be dating boys as a HOBBY; and it came through in many other ways.

Look, I agree it's stupid for teenagers to obsess over love, to fall in love overnight (or over one kiss or date or sight or whatever), and to decide immediately that they've found their one true, destined love, without taking the years it takes to really get to know someone. At the same time, I think it's horribly cruel to date someone just for fun when you don't really care about them or plan to take the years it takes to get to know them or at least consider the POSSIBILITY that they might be your true love.

If you know beyond a doubt that they're NOT the one for you? You. Shouldn't. Be. Dating. Them. You shouldn't be stringing them along. It's just mean and wrong. I'm sure sometimes it happens. You start dating someone, find yourself not in love, and keep dating them without realizing what you're doing. But once you do realize, you should stop immediately.

But Death Bringer almost seemed to encourage dating someone when you're fully conscious of the fact that the relationship won't go anywhere. It seems to encourage dating someone just for the experience. It doesn't seem to take into account that that sort of behavior broke Fletcher's heart. It seems to say that that was destined to happen, so it was alright. I think there's a happy middle ground where you don't rush into a relationship or jump to the conclusion that you're in love, but you also respect each other and consider each other precious while you work at SEEING if you're really in love. You don't date someone knowing from the start that you're not in love.

Also, just about Caelan, he was nothing like he was in either of the previous books. Even after the kiss, in Mortal Coil, he wasn't speaking all in cliches, and before the kiss, he was perfectly sane as long as he was human. This time, he was completely mad. The book was so insistent on making a point about the Edward-Bella sort of relationship that it did a 180 on Caelan's character and even mentioned Edward and Bella by name. Very subtle. . . That was sarcasm.

I don't want to sound mean. I really don't, since the author seems like such a nice guy and I've been a fan of all the previous books, but I have to be honest about this one. I didn't like it. And it doesn't make books to come appear very appetizing. And to be perfectly honest, the books have become the sort of books I read only because they're readable, not because they're great. I won't be buying the next books over Amazon. I'll just wait until they're cheap and easy to access. Truthfully, I want to see if they get better, but I can wait to find out if they do, I can wait to read more about Skulduggery, and I can wait a long, long time to read more about Valkyrie.

5/10

Gravestone: Not a Post as Morbid as It Sounds

I had a funny thought today that wasn't really related to my day or this post, minimal relatedness really. I thought, "I don't want my gravestone to say that I didn't cry enough." By "didn't cry enough," I don't mean, "didn't suffer enough." Everyone suffers more than enough, but not everyone lets herself cry for it. I don't. I never cry in front of other people if I can help it, because I know how gross I look when I cry. I don't even cry when I'm alone, because it makes my eyes puffy for hours and I don't want people to see that. I do cry, a tear or two, but I fight it very hard and give myself a headache trying to hold back tears, until basically I forget about my sadness.

It never leaves you, though, whatever event made you sad. You'll always be sad when you look back on it. And if you expend all your energy fighting the sorrow at the moment it hits you, you won't be able to let the sorrow out. Who wants to die knowing they went through life all twisted up inside with no release for their sorrow? Well, even knowing this, I probably won't start crying any more, but it's interesting to know.

A couple weeks ago, I was feeling sad and realized I hadn't cried yet, for any of it: my life changing, moving out of my old house, all the hard parts of coming to college. I hadn't cried one tear, and a couple of weeks ago, I felt like all those tears had welled up inside me in addition to the new ones coming in. So I actually planned to have a good cry that weekend, a good cry I never did get to, but anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, my day today.

Today, I had a chemistry lab I'd been stressing about for a week or two, since I realized they would expect us students to know much more advanced material than we do. I spend the last week reading ahead as much as I could and still not understanding what we would be doing in lab.

I was doubly scared about this 1 credit 3-hour lab class because I CHOSE it. It's not required for my major, electrical engineering. It's required for a minor in chemistry, which I decided to pursue because I like chemistry and because I believe it will help me in studying nanotechnology, which I plan to do in graduate school.

Now, no matter the area of life I'm dealing in at the moment, I'm scared that I'll make a decision that will prove stupid and show everyone that I can't make smart decisions. Therefore, whenever I make a decision of my own, I feel extra pressure to make it work because I need to prove it was a good decision. I hate to suffer for my decisions because, after all, if I suffer for them, they must have been bad decisions. I was thinking, though, that I really should be proud to suffer for my decisions, because at least it means that I made decisions. It is far better to suffer for your choices than to sit and rot and let the world decide everything for you.

Still, regarding this chem lab class, I was (still am, really) additionally scared that, if I did badly in it, it would prove my nano-technology dream is deluded and presumptuous and laughable, that I have no talent whatsoever for chemistry. If I did badly, I thought that would indicate that I'm not meant to do it.

Today in lab, I did badly. Very, very badly. It is just one session, but still, crash and burn. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but it was still humiliating. I looked like an idiot, I doubt I can get an A in the class now. I came back to my room from the lab and cried a little. I told myself the usual: life is a bumpy road, and if everything went smooth, well, I suppose we'd all be okay, but it wouldn't be much of a STORY. This is my story. It wouldn't be very exciting if I didn't have to face hardships. I believe all of that, and I didn't feel like one bad lab was the end of the world, but I was upset.

And then the thought entered my head that...maybe this bad lab doesn't mean I'm not supposed to minor in chemistry or study nanotechnology. Maybe it means I'm supposed to want that future badly enough push through this. And I do. I'm not going to quit.

I'm not sure if I've said this before, but I'm a real quitter. Or I was. I used to quit at everything I thought was too hard for me: senior year, my first job, etc. It was only recently that I recognized my ability to not quit, to keep showing up even when it's hard. I don't want to lose that ability now. I'll keep trying at this lab class and, if I fail, I fail. (Even so, I'm looking into CLEP tests so that I can earn enough credits to keep my scholarship and financial aid if I do fail a class.)

Alright, well, happy weekend...I guess...I'm having trouble coming up with a closing statement. Oh! I know. Here. This song. It rocks.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 5

In Part 4, I talked about how I was alienating people...

On the bright side, since I've started school, I've felt -- maybe not closer to -- but different about God. In a good way.

I started to feel like He was helping me out. I always KNEW He was, but I hadn't FELT like it in years. I felt like I, and only I, was helping me out. But then when school started, I'd get "lucky" on a day my teacher's assistants did a surprise check on our notebooks and I'd filled out my lab notebook an hour before class. I'd feel like God made that happen. Or I'd feel a tickle in my throat and sincerely pray I wouldn't get sick, and I wouldn't. I'd feel like God made that happen.

Actually, I can't remember the first time in the school year I sincerely -- SINCERELY -- prayed for something and got it, but it was that that convinced me that praying helps. So I started doing that a lot, and it seemed like every time I did, everthing turned out right. I'd pray before exams and I'd do well on them. I know it's because I was studying hard, but the important thing is that I felt like God was helping me. He was helping me to study, to avoid making stupid mistakes on exams, and to adjust to college life at all.

I have to admit I was pretty amazed at myself for slipping into a college routine as easily as I did. The dorm rooms, the showers, the cafeteria food, all the stuff I always thought would be a nightmare. It was nothing. I truly believe God made it possible for me to adjust to it. It feels really good to truly believe.

I prayed that God would help me pass every class with a B or better in order to keep my scholarship, and He's done just that. When I wrote my first draft of this post, I was still waiting on some grades, but I knew I'd still believe in God if I got less than a B in anything. It would be because He decided it was for the best. But I'm REALLY glad He decided it wasn't. Thank you, God.

That's the long and short of it, folks. If you're reading this, I think you're great, especially since posts have been so scarce lately. I know that my latest posts have almost exclusively focused on ordinary life goings-on. I usually prefer heftier topics, but when I got on break and wrote a rough draft of this 5 part post, the last few months were burning on my mind. I almost want to apologize that, looking back, I myself am not terribly excited about these last posts. Not that I don't want you to be excited about them. If you liked any of these posts, please tell me I'm wrong and they're the most fascinating thing on the face of the planet. Planets. ALL OF THEM! =)

In a few days, I'll have school again for four months, and then,summer, at which glorious time I should be able to post again. So don't give up on me.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 4

In Part 3, I talked about my college friends and how much I enjoyed them until they started alienating me and I started alienating them back.


I know from experience it's stupid to immediately and fully reconcile with friends who keep hurting you. It hurts more every time. It's far better to distance yourself from them until, when you do reconcile, you don't reconcile as friends but as people.


Still, I felt really mean one day when I passed by my friend (the one who found other friends; let's call her J), who was coming back from yet another dinner she went to without me. She obviously wanted to talk to me. She turned to me a little, and appeared to expect me to come to her, but I kept walking. She looked hurt. Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do, and it does help you feel better eventually, but in the midst of doing it, you might feel guilty. Maybe I am guilty, but I feel reasonably justified right now. I mean, she's not a bad person, but she's not a terribly good person, either. She did one thing in particular that really bugged me, but it's another post entirely.


Speaking of people I alienated -- there was also (yes, also; is there no end to the list?) my old cafeteria friend. Let's call him, what? M?


M finally said something to really irritate me. I'd been going to lunch and dinner almost every day (and gaining weight) because I liked seeing him. I always went with my friend J, too, because I liked the way she and he snarked at each other. I really liked him as a person, mostly because of how accepting he was.


I never like-liked him though, and I think it wore on me how he seemed to like-like me. Furthermore, by the time he really annoyed me, I'd come to realize that he wasn't the original I thought he was. His dad's an addiction counselor or something. M's just being the person his dad raised him to be. So after he irritated me, I stopped going to see him. I still saw him now and then, but I didn't go to see HIM, just to eat. And you know what? My guilty truth is that life felt quite a bit easier. Except when I felt like scum for hurting his feelings.


See, for weeks and weeks, I'd been going to see him even though I knew he felt differently about me than I felt about him. I didn't even want him to stop feeling that way because I didn't want to lose the extra attention he gave me. I was selfish and horrible, and then I just stopped, which was also selfish and horrible. I knew that he had feelings, that he noticed I didn't go see him anymore, and that he'd feel abandoned, like I feel when people ditch me. (Then again, I've been wrong about him before. Can I hope that he didn't feel that way?) I felt at one point that I had to go to him and explain, and I think that might have been a good idea if I had figured out a good way to do it. But on the day I went, he was downright chipper and said he was having a good day. I needed no other excuse to back out. He was doing fine without me. What would I have said anyway?


Maybe I'll write more about what he actually said at a later date, but for now that's the silly, guilty story.


Maybe I was alienating a couple people, but once I distance myself emotionally from people, I live more in harmony with them. The other girl (who's not J) on my floor really is nice, nice and grown up; she knows a good friend when she sees one, knows a snob when she sees one, and knows she herself is not perfect either. I find I like that kind of person, mature, humble, accepting, smart. The other electrical engineer possesses many of these traits too. But none of the people I've met could be my True Friend, and I think it's okay that I've distanced myself from them.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 3

In Part 2, I talked about how I enjoyed living alone in college.


I also enjoyed the friends I made. I met another girl in electrical engineering and two girls on my floor of the dorm. For a while, I believed that I'd found kindred spirits. "All this time," I thought, "I just had to go somewhere new to find some people who behave the way I think human beings should." Of course, in the back of my mind, a voice told me it couldn't last forever, and that voice is always right. Everyone disappoints me until I develop more realistic expectations of them.


One girl said something kind of twisted about tying me down in the yard at night until I understood I'd be fine (this was her response to me saying how scared I was to walk around campus at night). That hurt, but I stopped hanging out with her for a while, and it was fairly easy to change my idea of her.


The other electrical engineer sometimes ignored me. Not in a mean way. But, say, I'd sit down next to her and wait for her to say hi, but she wouldn't. Maybe she was waiting for me to say hi too. Neither of us would then. Most of the time, we get along fine, but because of those now-and-then moments, we grew apart.


People in general stopped being their strangely friendly selves. I think they got tired and their grades worsened as the year went on. At first, I thought it was weird how nice they were, but after they stopped, I missed it.


In particular, I grew pretty close to one of the girls on my floor. We were in classes together, and we always walked to and from those classes together. We were both slow at our work, usually the last people to finish labs and tests. When I finished slightly before her, I'd wait for her. She did the same for me once. I'd help her with homework and studying, and she'd let me use her mini-fridge and printer. We were both usually the last ones to bed, as we were up all night doing schoolwork and helping each other with it.


But then, she found other friends, people I didn't like particularly in the first place and even less after I became jealous of the time she spent with them. I know it's petty, but it didn't feel fair. She seemed so much happier with them than with me, and what had they ever done for her? They didn't help her study or do homework. They didn't wait for her after class. In fact, they were jerks. Some of them would poke fun at her for being out-of-state and for any other reasons they could come up with. And they drew in permanent marker on her face and played pranks on her. See? Prank-pullers, the kind of people I don't like. . . Okay, fine, so she seemed to enjoy it and she returned the favor to those who drew on her face, but I could tell it bugged her slightly too because she appreciated it when I snatched the marker away from her friends.


One night, it was 4 am the weekend before a chemistry exam, and my friend should have been studying, especially since she was failing chem. I looked out the window and saw her friends restraining her in a bear hug and sticking snow down her socks. I suppose she may have started it, and she threw snow back at them. But then there's the problem of why on earth they were encouraging her to be out goofing off at that time of night, a day before a big test. But she absolutely loves them.


Her friends are mostly from an on-campus youth group type deal, such groups are often exclusive, and the same is true of this one. One of them is somewhat pleasant, though. He's the boy who awkwardly asked me to go rafting at the beginning of the year. My friend is besotted with him, and he with her. Problem is, to be completely honest, he's not a better friend to her than I am. I came to her rescue when they were drawing on her face, and he just sat there. I always told her the truth, and he sometimes didn't. But she loved him so much more than me. Is it because he's a boy? I mean, of course it's because he's a boy.


See, I know this sounds weird, terribly petty, and childish. I know. But I'm being honest.


She started spending more and more time with them -- going to dinner in the cafeteria, playing card games in the study rooms, having Bible studies downstairs, or just hanging out in the boy's room. And not inviting me. She did this more and more. I soon decided I needed to distance myself from her, so I tried to avoid or act cold to her when she WAS around. By the end of the semester, we spent a fraction of the time together that we'd spent before, and I'm barely over my bitterness after not seeing her for three weeks.


Even more than the other girls, this one chipped away at my okayness in the last few weeks of last semester. They all did, though, and it was amazing the feelings I could recognize as being more familiar than feeling okay. In a way, I didn't start feeling like myself again until the first girl disappoined me by threatening to tie me down in the yard. I recognized the feeling of disillusionment regarding her and everyone else on the planet, really, like what I'd felt with my family before college.


When my friend started spending her time with other people instead of me, it was one of those things, those previously so-familiar things I couldn't forget about just by avoiding. It took me back to the pre-college days, when hurt hung on the edge of my thoughts all the time. I had knowledge that bugged me, knowledge about the people around me, knowledge I couldn't -- wouldn't just forget about, because that wouldn't be truthful. It wasn't nearly as bad as pre-college, though. I was still okay most of the time.


I know lots of people go through this -- you find a friend, they find other friends. Heck. It's happened to me before. Maybe, though, I was under the impression that, once people grew up, they'll stick with you if you're a good friend to them. Even if I wasn't under that impression, I'm probably too stupid to avoid becoming friends with people. And even if it's true that grown ups know good friends, that girl is not grown up.


One Friday, she did invite me out with her friends, and we saw the school's band play. I fell asleep. (C'mon, if you were me, you'd know how impossible it is to sit still and stay awake after weeks of not sleeping. The band was good though.) My contacts got dry. One fell out. I was exhausted, irritated at losing a contact, and disoriented from having only one eye that could see clearly. I politely asked my friend to follow through on her promise to get Rafting Boy to drive me home. She suddenly decided she didn't want to bother him. I had to find a ride home myself. I didn't think too much about it then, about what that meant about her priorities and her word. I was too tired to think about it then. I was mad about it later though.


So, first the beginning of the semester, my college friends were part of why I felt okay, but by the end, people were aliens to me, which I'll talk more about in Part 4.

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 2

First of all, Happy New Year!


Now, in Part 1, I talked about the academic parts of last semester.


Regarding other parts of life, they've been pretty darn good. Those first few weeks were hard in a way I didn't understand. They didn't feel hard. They just felt strange. I felt strange. Because I didn't feel much at all. And now, I think I know why. I had no "cues," no previously-understood reasons for feeling anything. I had no familiar sights, sounds, people, or objects to trigger feelings. I had to start from scratch making new cues.


So I did. I met new people, enjoyed new foods, appreciated different sights and experiences, etc. And around the time I realized how normal I was behaving, I also realized that I was okay, really okay. And that was better than I'd been in years. I'd have mistaken it for being "happy," except that I know what it's like to be happy. Still, being "okay" was pretty great, and it came about because all my cues were absent.


I was authentically unhappy before I went to college, mostly because of - and this is going to sound very heartless, but it's true - the people I had the most contact with, my family. I'm sorry, but they make me very unhappy. For the most part, they hurt me by saying cruel and mindless things -- not usually directed at me, but cruel and twisted nonetheless -- which used to hurt me all the more because I loved them, expected much, much more of them, and wanted them to see the truth.


It didn't bother me as much when complete strangers did and said the same things as my family did. I think going to college has helped me see my family a little more as strangers.


For instance, the other day, my dad caught a half-dead buzzing fly in a sack, and I asked him to just kill it, but he refused, saying he, "liked to watch them be tortured." He said it because he thought it was funny, not necessarily because he was serious. Because I care about all kinds of creatures, I'm a vegetarian, but even if I wasn't, torture is horrible, and I absolutely hate when people joke about horrible things. It's a topic I'll have to write a whole post about sometime because it's become really central to my thoughts. My dad did what he did to the fly even after all the times I've argued with him about problems like this and despite the fact that he knows I'm a vegetarian.


However, it hurt me relatively little when my dad caught that fly a few days ago, as compared to how it would have hurt me before college. Before college, I'd be unhappy just being around my family, especially my dad and brothers, as it hung in my mind how often they'd behaved that way, how hard I'd tried to get them to stop, and how badly I'd failed. I was unhappy around my mother too, but I also enjoyed being around her sometimes. When she was around my father and brothers, she'd act to some extent like them. Without their influence, she was kind. And I'll always remember the months we had together when all of the boys were gone and how close and peaceful our relationship became. She was my best friend back then.


I thought I'd be miserable without her, but I think she's a major part of why I used to be so bashful around strangers. See, I didn't want to interact with strangers in a way that was inconsistent with the way my Mom saw me. I wasn't even sure how it was she saw me, but that fact just added to my fear, which made me shy. Even without her right next to me, she was around, and I knew it and could almost feel her watching as I interacted with people. I want to be honest in who I am, how I act. I don't want there to be any discrepancies, so I used to overmonitor myself when I talked to people.


When I left my mom far behind, though, I didn't have to worry about acting consistently with how I'd act with her. It was very freeing, and because of that, I acted confident and normal, like other people there at the school.


Also, before college, I'd get myself hurt when I'd try to share things with my mom --songs, pictures, movies, or books I discovered -- and she would show little or no interest. I don't blame her for that. I know it only meant she doesn't have the same interests as I. I wouldn't want her to pretend she did. That's too much like lying. Somehow, though, I kept taking the slim chance that she'd really like it THIS time, THIS time, THIS time. It happened quite often, and I could never stop myself. When I started living alone, though, I never even thought to share the fun discoveries I made, because there was no one around. I just enjoyed them on my own. And I didn't hurt myself trying to get other people to enjoy them with me. To be honest, I still subconsciously store away discoveries I make to bring up with my mom when I visit home. Most of the time, though, I just enjoy them.


I felt pretty genuinely okay in college, thanks to the factors above and the people I met at college, which I'll talk about in Part 3.

Merry Christmas 2011! With Thoughts on Baby Jesus and Chrismas Carols

I have something to say. It may be the same as what I said last Christmas, but I'm too lazy to check. First, Jesus came as a baby. The baby of a poor family who had to work for a living. Second, Away in a Manger and I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day -- good Christmas carols. Third, Merry Christmas. Now, I shall elaborate and/or repeat myself.


First, I made this point last year, but I don't think I made it well. In fact, I downright forgot what I was going to say during last year's Christmas post. Jesus came as one of the little people. By this, I don't mean elves, but I do mean babies and the so-called lowly people of society.

Society seems to view some people as less valuable than others. Think about fast food workers, invalids, or infants. Now think about scientists, surgeons, or statesmen. If you don't personally hold such a view, you can probably sense how the world holds the people in the latter list in higher esteem. They're considered more useful, they become more famous, they get far more pampered, and their deaths are more widely mourned. People dream of becoming like scientists, surgeons, or statesmen. People fear becoming like fast food workers, invalids, or infants.

Even I admit to thinking in this mindset sometimes. I tell myself that once I'm an engineer -- successful, rich, maybe even famous -- it'll show those people I hate, those enemies who'll never be anything but bad stay-at-home parents and unoriginal, unimaginative teachers and office workers. It'll show everyone I'm better than them. I secretly know it wouldn't really mean that, but I hope at least THEY think it would, and I hope it'll hurt them to see me held in society's high regard. I know this is really mean, and REALLY condescending to stay-at-home parents, teachers, and office workers, but. . . Well, I don't have an excuse. It's a bad behavior I fall into when I want to make myself feel better. I let myself think like society does, like some people are better than others because of their social standing.

People had such a mindset back in Jesus' time too. And God knew it. But He came as a baby anyway. Like everyone else, He was small, weak, helpless, and "useless" at one point. But that didn't mean He wasn't important. He was the most important figure of all time. He was poor and had to work a regular job that any other regular person could have taken over, a job for which he'd never be rich or famous, like frying burgers. But that didn't mean He wasn't important. It didn't mean He didn't matter.

You must be able to see that this can't have been a random choice God made, to come into the world as a baby, a poor person, and a blue-collar worker. I think He made this choice in order to illustrate His new Law, how we should help even those who can't help us back, serve ALL people, be merciful and kind, and respect the meek. Because they're important; they'll inherit the Earth. If the King of the Universe could be a Nobody on Earth, it proves that no one can be worthless because they are weak, useless, poor, or lowly.

This message, the one of Jesus coming as a baby, gets so much airtime because it's really beautiful. It means that no matter who you are, no matter how weak, useless, or lowly you are, you are important. You matter. Isn't that wonderful?

Secondly, my favorite Christmas carol is Away in a Manger, mostly for this line: "I love Thee, Lord Jesus." That line is just sweet, simple, and true. People are always talking about how great, glorious, powerful, and amazing God is, and it's all true. But how often is it just "I love You, Jesus"? Isn't that refreshing? Just spitting it out? And every single time I hear that line, I come to the wonderful realization that it's true. I love You, Jesus. It's such an intimate thing to say, and that's how it should be. I often feel distant from God, and it doesn't help when people talk about Him as a third person and His greatness as an abstract concept. It helps to say "I" and "love" and "You" in the same sentence.

Away in a Manger is written in the voice of a young child. A young child doesn't think about all the wonders of the universe that prove how great God is (although those are good things to think about). A young child loves someone for the right traits -- kindness and love. That's who Jesus is. I know it in my soul, but I'm often scared to believe it, feeling obligated to see God as some awesome unapproachable being. This song reassures me that God is comfort and warmth, which all children naturally want to have because it's good.

Therefore, the song makes perfect sense when the child entreats God with the following lines: "Look down from the sky and stay by my cradle till morning is nigh. Be near me, Lord Jesus. I ask Thee to stay close by me forever. . ." When I think of Jesus as a tender, loving God, that's exactly what I want to say. Grace me with Your presence. Stay with me. Protect me. Comfort me. Forever.

The song goes on: ". . . and love me, I pray." I feel like churches always ask Jesus for forgiveness, but not for love. It's almost like they want us individuals to think we're unworthy to ask for love. Well, I think we ARE unworthy. A lot of people feel that way, like they can't ask for love from anyone, let alone a perfect, all-powerful entity. But I think God wants us to feel worthy, and asking Him to love us is, not only acceptable, but good. This song reminds me of that. I am allowed ask a beautiful, perfect Person to love me and I am allowed to find my worth in that love.

This song gives an impression of love as a simple, perfect miracle, eternal and complete. The child loves Jesus because Jesus loves the child and Jesus is good. Goodness incarnate just fits like a puzzle piece in the child's soul, and that is love, and that love just IS. It doesn't need anything more added to it. It is. This is, in a way, one of the most romantic songs in existence.

I Heard the Bells is a hopeful song that doesn't ignore despair. It was just a couple years ago that I really listened to the words for the first time, and they are so true to me. "And in despair I bowed me head. 'There is no peace on Earth,' I said." I may never have said that, but I felt that every single day. Not "there's very little peace," or "there's no peace in countries at war." There. Is. No. Peace. Anywhere. Anytime. All people suffer physically, emotionally, or both. No one ever has true peace. "For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on Earth, goodwill to men." When I first heard the words, it shocked and relieved me that someone else felt as much despair over it as I did.

Then, the song even continued with, "God is not dead, nor does He sleep." That's right. He came back from the grave. And you say He's conscious and attentive to what's happening here on Earth? "The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with peace on Earth, goodwill to men." Sometimes, just hearing it out loud can reassure and comfort you. A little bit.

Finally, I wish you a happy holiday for celebrating the birth of kindness, love, truth, and all goodness, in the flesh. Merry Christmas!

(By the way, I saw my grades today, and it was the best Christmas Eve gift I got. I got three A's, two A minuses, and a B+ in chemistry. I'm going to keep my scholarship, and I'm happily surprised at myself, which is the upside to having low expectations. My family, by comparison, seemed to assume I'd get all A's, and they were congratulatory but not nearly as excited as I was. Still, I think I did wonderfully. Thank you, God.)

So Much Has Happened in My First Semester, Part 1

It feels like so very much has happened, but I suppose nothing life-changing has. I finished my first semester of full-time college, I'm very proud of me, and now I'm on Christmas vacation for three weeks. I have time to post! I apologize for my absence, but I guess I'll start by describing how freaking hard college is.


For the past couple months, I've slept an average of 2 hours every weekday night, and maybe 6 hours on weekend nights. I had most of my finals the week before last week (which was ACTUAL Finals Week), and I didn't sleep at all on probably three of those nights. My dad and brother acted like this was my fault. Well, I could have slept more. A lot more. But then I wouldn't have gotten any of my work done and I'd have failed my classes. I just had too much to do.

This semester, I took 16 credits, but I spent more time in class than that would indicate, because in addition to my five regular classes, I had one weekly class that counted for just one credit and three that counted for zero. Most of those classes were "lab components" that took 2+ hours.

When not in class, I worked virtually round the clock. I studied and did homework, taking a couple hours maybe every other week to do something strictly fun. Engineering is a hard major. It's easier for fast people, but I'm a slow person. That's part of why I haven't slept much lately, but hey, I've done really well for myself. I'm still waiting on some of my final grades, but so far, they look good. And you know what? I've loved it.


I loved working and learning and doing. I think I was meant to work hard, because I feel healthiest when I do. It reached a bit of an extreme this year, with the no sleeping thing, but I love having something to do. It just feels good. And I hope that one day, very soon, I can find a balance between physical health and hard work.


I needed the motivation college gives me, with the threat of poor grades, with people who expected to see me in class every day, and with a schedule that can't be pushed back or ignored. I still need it. I'm lazy on my own. Maybe one day, I'll find a way to motivate myself, but right now, I need college to do that. That's the main reason I ever went. I could learn on my own, but I need to be motivated.



I've loved learning, too. Did I say? I loved being challenged and discovering new things about the world, which is probably why chemistry was my favorite class. Most of the students hated it, and I do too. A little. It's hard. I did rather badly in it the first half of the semester, but I liked it even then. It was the most advanced class I took, with the most new information, and it helped me develop my recent interest in nanotechnology, which I'll get into in a later post.


Anyway, I loved being active academically, loved the actual working of problems. Even during finals week, I was so nervous while taking my tests, but as I got further into each one, I found myself having fun. I'd studied, so I kind of knew what I was doing, but it was still a challenge, not too easy and not impossible. I loved the feeling of competence, the exhiliration of surmounting difficulties.



One aspect of college I didn't enjoy was the teachers. Either they were nice but couldn't teach, or they weren't approachable, or they were downright insane. My writing teacher was probably the latter. I felt sorry for her, but she gave everyone bad grades until she (reportedly) got complained about enough and got in trouble for bringing down all her students' GPAs. She seemed so nice most of the time, but now and then, she'd say something that normal people just don't say. On my early papers, she'd give feedback that made little, if any sense, so I didn't know how to write to please her, which made it extremely nerve-wracking to write at all. I've always procrastinated writing, because I've always felt pressured to write really well, but I've always liked it too. She made me almost hate it. I'm definitely glad I'm done with that class.


Overall, though, I enjoyed the academic parts of life these past few months, even if I hated how little sleep I got.


To be continued in Part 2 . . .

Skulduggery Pleasant Released as ebook for the US!

First of all, I have to mention that Derek Landy is finally re-releasing the Skulduggery Pleasant books in the US! Not that it was his fault that it took so long or anything. He's said that the boring covers on the American versions of the books probably didn't help sales, and I think he's right. I don't believe in judging people by their covers, but that doesn't keep me from judging books by their covers (and titles), and I'm sure I'm not the only one. Released as ebooks this time though, the Skulduggery Pleasant books have awesome covers again, covers I'm sure no one could overlook. I don't get comments from Americans, but my stats tell me I get more American readers than readers from any other nation, and Skulduggery Pleasant Book 1 is one of the main searches people come to my blog by. That takes them to my reviews of the books, usually book 1. I hope at least some of those people coming to my Skulduggery review are Americans, and I hope this post helps spread the word about the American Skulduggery ebooks, because they're amazing! Go here http://bit.ly/qNJYCP. The first book's free for October! The others are awesome too! Read them! Love them! Nerd with me over them! Does that sound weird?

Anyway, I also want to say that I'm sorry I've posted so little, but that's probably not going to change anytime soon. At least, not until summer, and probably not even then if I get an internship. I'm guessing my followers are all pretty busy too, judging by how there was no avalanche of blog updates on my dashboard. Well, maybe a small avalanche, but quite manageable. That's good. We'll all just keep busy till we can get back together again like old times. =)

Also, just in general, school's going ok, but I feel like I don't really know the chemistry I should for my second exam on Tuesday. I need to study, but I have a ton of other stuff to do this weekend. I'm tired, and I want to say something. The last couple posts? I'm not proud of them. I mean, I'm not terribly ashamed of them, but usually, when I post something, I'm proud of it. Even if I said something completely embarassing and personal, I felt better for it. This wasn't the case for the last posts, and I think that might be because I don't feel I was completely honest. I like the attention from the boys who've given me attention, even if I do hate being cliche and and don't want my life to get any more complicated, which it will with these boys being all...them. But it's not as big a deal as I thought. I haven't done anything about my situation with my cafeteria freind, even though I'm quite sure now he likes me, just from the way he flirts with me all the time. But I really like him and talking to him, and he seems to get over people fast, as he was interested in my other friend just a few weeks ago. I'm not going to stop talking to him, and I'm sure he'll eventually just get over whatever he has for me. On the other hand, the 29-year-old guy who hit on me is still creeping me out, but he hasn't really done anything to creep me out. Not really. So I feel a bit mean for being creeped, but I can't really help it. He's, well, creepy. I've met a few other nice boys who seem to like talking to me, one (nearly lovable) clown who flirts with everyone, and one guy who saw the pink (formerly blue) streaks in my hair, walked right up to me, and said, "I'm James. I love your hair. We should hang out." It's all good I suppose. I worry less about it now.

I think the biggest theme of the past few days has been that I can't really do this. I can't pass my chemistry exam. I can't get all my other work done. I'm going on 2-3 hours of sleep most weekdays. Last week, I had to deal with a somewhat disturbing drama with a writing teacher who gave me an F, told me to come into her office, and then asked me if I was threatening her when I told her, "Other students are confused and upset, too. [About how low she's grading us.] I just thought you should know." She told me I was welcome to withdraw from the class, so I asked some office people about switching sections, and in the end, I took the administrator guy's advice to "reopen the door" with the teacher. I wrote an apology for making her feel threatened, read it aloud to her, she accepted it, and afterwards, I couldn't decide if I'd been mature or cowardly. Either way, it was upsetting and a tad humiliating. And my point is that I'm overwhelmed and can't do all I need to do to get by. Lately, I've been waking up in the morning and thinking, "It's too heavy for me." This whole burden. So I've been realizing that I have to let God carry it because I flat-out can't. I mentioned before that I realized I was never really in charge of how well I do in life anyway. God is. But that doesn't stop me from worrying and trying every day to carry this burden I can't. I know this sounds a bit unoriginal, but it's true. If God wants me to pass the chemistry exam, He'll help me do it. Otherwise...well, I just don't want to think about "otherwise." That's why I keep worrying about carrying the burden myself. But I can't, and now, I'm just trying to trust God and stop worrying.

Well, I'll post again when I can. Thanks for reading my posts, my faithful readers of posts. =)