For those of you who've read my blog for a long while, there is an entity that exists that I dub the Rain god. His true name could be Rob McKenna, but I'll never know. What's important is that he's important, however much we hate him. Everyone hates the rain. It's natural, almost instinctive, but it's necessary.
That being said, I had a great week, up until today. Wednesday I had a small epiphany about how awesome I was, and thus began to live with increased confidence. Thursday I had an awesome day in regards to Wednesday's events, and on top of that, my theatre teacher simply gave me a role in the upcoming Midsummers play as Theseus. I found it extremely strange that Shakespeare would manipulate Greek mythology to the point where Hipollyta, the supposed bride of Heracles, ended up with Theseus after somehow coming back to life from when Hera caused her death. The internet says the two were cousins, but I still can't see this shit happening, could you? The first rehearsal is supposed to be after school today, but alas, Rob wants to capitalize on this.
See, it took two periods to realize I felt well and truly sick. When it comes to illness, I'm known in my family as never being one to feign it. I could have my hand chopped off and I'd still go to school, but only if it was my left hand. To hell with this, I'm still going to school!
My sister gets sick fairly easily, I've found. However, whenever my mom hears me say that I feel sick, it's normally because I've felt sick for a while and I'm only now admitting it. In a way, I'm really stubborn. I'll keep going, with my soul shattered, on my force of will alone. Now, unfortunately, it's my body that feels weak and feverish. It's gotten to the point where if I even mildly feel like I'm sick, I know I am. I'm not sick often, but when I am, you can bet your ass I'm sick. t's surprising, considering I hardly ever am, but that lends wonders to believabilily. I'm not lying about it, mind you, but if that boy hardly ever cries wolf, you can assume that there's a wolf nearby when he does.
Without my sickness, the day was fairly depressing regardless. My off period I couldn't bring myself to do anything short of calculus homework, in Dance we did some shitty bookwork (which is kinda like asking an engineer to write about his feelings) which I didn't bother to finish once I had done the minimum requirement. Finally, we read W;t in English (pretend the semicolon is an "i" and you've got it down. In writing this, I've also inadvertently realized the meaning of the title), which is about a woman with stage 4 ovarian cancer who toootaly doesn't die at all. In a way, kinda cuts close to home with a sick person who's sometimes a hypochondriac when it comes to the Death Triangle of the Face.
In hindsight, I wasn't sick. I wrote this Friday of last week, now I'm writing this today. In my defense, the symptoms really did make me think I was sick. My sinuses got fucked up to hell, I kinda skimped on breakfast, and I apparently got less sleep the night before. As a result, I got a pretty convincing sell. I'm never sick, so when I feel like it, I usually assume the possibility that I'm sick.
However, half a week later and I still feel perfectly able to write about the topic I envisioned on Friday. For creative writing, I have to collect inspiration for a certain topic to write about for our final grade for the six weeks. I originally was going to do my crossover fanfiction of Agents of Shield and Person Of Interest, but last minute (yesterday) I decided on something else: the rain god. My teacher told us to not draft before tomorrow, but this isn't a draft. This is my way of collecting information about my topic. I usually prefer to write fiction in my creative writing class, as my personal thoughts and emotions are reserved for here.
My week so far is pretty damn similar to last week, emotionally. All of a sudden, my life improved last week, and hasn't dropped in quality. Today, I feel as great as I did one week ago, with no particular reason. I no longer have crappy days, only crappy moments. The rain god, it seems, has shone me his favor. The rain god, for those who don't know him, is the god of really crappy things. Everyone can hate that, right? The good thing, however, is how much greater those crappy moments can make our normal moments. When everything goes horrible, if something goes neutrally, neither good nor bad, it seems like something amazing.
I can name a dozen good things that have happened. Getting a role in Midsummers, being able to write recreationally (not just for the sake of a blog post), staying on top of my homework, all of these are amazing things, but I can't attribute any of them to my newfound happiness and passion. I'm kinda suspicious of the last one, however. If it is the last one, it would explain something for the American school system.
There are some things, of course, that go somewhat less well than expected, but they don't dim the good stuff. The contrast of life allows one to easily see the good and the bad and focus on whichever matters (hopefully the good).
There are still some bad things, however, as there naturally would be. Why should I expect everything to go perfectly? My life hasn't become perfect, but it has become a lot better. My self-esteem may be up, but the bad things that keep happening remind me of what makes it do so. My social anxiety is insanely lessened, though prevalent. I feel like I am someone now, someone who has gained the right to say hello to whoever they desire, do whatever they desire without being judged openly. Among teenagers today, that 'right' is more of a privilege. My former crush still intimidates me, but I'm finding myself more apt to looking at her again, this time as a possible friend rather than potential romantic affiliation. I've still given up on the front of love for now. Maybe once I get over her, my heart will lock onto another girl and the same will commence, but maybe not. I've learned my history, it would be dire to repeat it.
As I wrap up, I notice the distinct lack of images in this post. There's one image, surely, but that's a requirement for every blog post so that when I post it, you don't see the shitty resolution of my profile picture when expanded to be huge. Fuck it, this is captivating. I may be a bit vain, and compensate in kind (positively, mind you), but even I can tell when I've written a great work. This has passion behind it, like so every other post in this blog. Every single one isn't based on rationality, but emotion. I incorporate rationality into it, but that's so I don't just give you a page or two of teenage angst and daddy issues.
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| And even though it may be fun to read/watch, since when is that a masterpiece? |
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