Of all the things we are afraid of, one of the main things we find ourselves afraid of is other people, more so than any supernatural object that haunts our imaginations. We all find our breathing increase when you get up and present to a group, when you show your friend something new, and especially when you act like yourself, for then you are presenting your liked image to the world, and fear criticism.
I regard criticism as a good thing, something to help me perfect my technique and/or methods, but it still enervates me, as it does most everyone else, just another one of my many personal conflicts between emotion and reason (I know nothing can go wrong, but my body will react as if everything will, which sucks because I know nothing will go wrong but it might and therefore I worry against the will of my own logic). We aren't afraid of the criticism, criticism can be good or bad, depending on how it's worded. As I said just now, I enjoy criticism as it provides me with a direction to go (I also enjoy feedback, especially on my blog posts, because I rarely ever get proper feedback on them in the comments. Hint hint, everyone). That being said, I like hearing other people's opinions on my work because I know how to work on it further. I'm not afraid of being told how my stuff is, but then again, that's not what anyone is really afraid of. What we are really afraid of is being told that we suck.
Imagine this: You work on something for over a month, you invest all your time into imbuing detail into it and making it as perfect as you can imagine. Finally you take it and show it to your friends and ask them what they think, and they all tell you that it sucks. Pretty heartbreaking, ain't it?
That's what you're afraid of. You're afraid of being put down for other people for what you've done. You have an urge to be accepted. I know, I do too. Ever shown your friend funny pictures from your phone? You want to show them the humor you think they might like in order to get them to accept you. You even show them random things you like in order to evaluate them and see what they like. You have the urge to be accepted. Why else would you want to stand out? Why else are you nervous around people rather than being yourself? Because you're afraid they won't accept you, that they'll reject you.
That's why you're afraid of being yourself, of talking to people, of showing your stuff, it's because you fear rejection, we all do, some less than others. You fear going up on stage because people might not like you, you fear asking your crush out because (not to be repetitive) she'll reject you. You fear being shot down. I don't blame you, I do, too, it's only natural.
My mother wants me to delete this blog and to instead write everything under a fake name. Why? Because colleges may not like me and thus reject me. She continues to push this opinion onto me, despite the fact that I've made it clear I don't care. I'm repeatedly told I'll get hate for my opinions, posted publicly onto the internet, but if I get hated on, fine, I don't give a fuck. Even if a college refuses me for something I write, I won't feel bad about it so long as you tell me why (yes, I'm talking to you, future college background-checkers)
Instead of simply hating me, tell me why. If you hate me, I want to know exactly what I'm doing wrong, I want feedback. I'm okay with being told that my writing sucks, so long as you provide a decent rationale for why it does, so that I might be able to perfect it in the future, I'm okay with it. What I don't want you to do, what I don't want anyone to do, is to hate my work and remain silent. Critique me, critique everyone. We all want to know how we do, so tell your friends how they can do what they do better (not to the point of being pretentious, but you get the idea).
I want feedback, and from now on, I ask you this: if you read my blog posts, critique them. As I've said, I don't want to be here simply lecturing to you, the comments section is your battleground. Tell me what the hell you think of this! I hate silence from you guys, the crushing silence that ensues when you +1 this entry and nothing else. No feedback, whatsoever, I never know what you think, and thus I never get to know what kind of person you are, on top of everything. So please, if nothing else, even if you hate me (which you probably don't but there's someone who does, most likely), tell me what you think!
Monday, May 5, 2014
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
JotMotW: Entry 10: Freedom in Carelessness
All of this is bullshit. That's what I've realized over the past few days. I have nothing to fear, no reason to be stressed, because none of this really effects me.
In the past I felt suicidal, losing my will to live because of all the stress laid down on me, all the worthless crap piled onto my back, and all I could think of was me ending it all. As a matter of fact, I planned to have my last journal entry be a suicide note (but you know, not really), to be 'accidentally' sent to all my teachers to send them a message that I am stressed out, and when someone is stressed out as much as I am, what are they going to turn to? What will they do to cope? And I wanted to write a moving suicide note in order to send that message, that one with no likelihood of ever taking a knife and ending their lives can be driven to do exactly that, driven to something that would earn quite a few lawsuits, some educational reform. I know if I killed myself, over half my school would gasp in shock, all my friends would drop their pencils in horror, that guy. That one guy. The guy who always made everyone laugh, the guy who was a friend to all and eager to spread wisdom wherever appreciated and could cheer everyone up, couldn't do so for himself. It was too much, and though he always preached against suicide, eventually that was his only alternative. He had nowhere else to turn, and so my suicide note, my oh so moving suicide note, might attract attention, my cold dead voice would be heard, and change would occur, the curriculum being made a little bit less stressful in order to prevent future suicides (because AISD naturally rolls over on command), "all the cash, all the fame, and social change".
I could've channeled my inner depression and wrote an emotional suicide note, able to bring tears in some, as I would simply break my poetic style, talking in simple honest words, no more bullshit, just a plain suicide note, describing exactly why I was driven to it, and what I want to be done in my absence (also a declaration of love to my crush, identifying her by name, something I deliberately haven't done).
Such could've been an emotional weapon, such could've been a mighty cry for attention that couldn't be ignored, even by people who might not even know me. I could've written that, and immediately been paid attention to (because adults in the education system seem to have an interesting fascination with the topic of teen suicide). In fact, I still want to write it, but I know I can't now, not because I'm no longer in the situation to be depressed, but because I'm no longer depressed, even though I have every reason to be.
As you all surely know by now, I don't write with my mind, but with my heart. I surround myself with my specific emotion as dictated by the tone of the day, I let it overcome me, build up inside me, until there's only one way I can release it: writing. I can't write my suicide note, even if just for shits and giggles, because I can't overload myself with depression. All I figure I am is lovesick, not enough to merit depression, let alone suicide. I no longer am depressed, and cannot write about depression as a result, all I do feel is blatant carelessness.
I care nothing for my stressful sophomore curriculum, I am who I want to be. I cannot be pushed down by my school, because I'm no longer afraid to voice my opinions publicly. I cannot be depressed by assignments that I'll openly say that I don't have because I didn't give a shit about them. I am Meursault, my indifference resulting in my depression, my slow transition through my hellish, dismal state until finally, finally, I have lashed out at the chaplain within my mind, I have slept and awoken a new man, begotten a new Meursault, one who accepts the pitiful reality of my world. I scare myself somewhat, knowing I care not about my future, that I could flunk out of school, given if I fail two classes, I would get kicked out of my magnet school, one of the places I know I belong. I don't care still. My apathy strengthens itself every day, maybe in a short while to the point where I can ask my crush out, but that won't be for a week or so. I am paranoid about the consequences of my apathy, even though deep down I no longer care what whiplash befalls me. I know it is too late for me to get any sort of help, perhaps I could've back when I was depressed, but not anymore. Surprisingly, I was comfortable back when I was depressed, even though now when I no longer care I feel content. I can still put on the act, the illusion of caring, for I find it easy to feign interest in anything. I am something I always wanted to be, and yet feared to become, and my very rational fear is dying by the day, fear of what I now am and that I no longer care for certain things I once deemed crucial. I don't care for this bullshit anymore. Life is mine, and though I fear the results of my new-found confidence, I care not.
I say to anyone who may be listening, be comfortable with this new me, because I doubt I shall regress to my previous self. I am a new Meursault, and I can only hope that I shall be greeted with cries of hate.
In the past I felt suicidal, losing my will to live because of all the stress laid down on me, all the worthless crap piled onto my back, and all I could think of was me ending it all. As a matter of fact, I planned to have my last journal entry be a suicide note (but you know, not really), to be 'accidentally' sent to all my teachers to send them a message that I am stressed out, and when someone is stressed out as much as I am, what are they going to turn to? What will they do to cope? And I wanted to write a moving suicide note in order to send that message, that one with no likelihood of ever taking a knife and ending their lives can be driven to do exactly that, driven to something that would earn quite a few lawsuits, some educational reform. I know if I killed myself, over half my school would gasp in shock, all my friends would drop their pencils in horror, that guy. That one guy. The guy who always made everyone laugh, the guy who was a friend to all and eager to spread wisdom wherever appreciated and could cheer everyone up, couldn't do so for himself. It was too much, and though he always preached against suicide, eventually that was his only alternative. He had nowhere else to turn, and so my suicide note, my oh so moving suicide note, might attract attention, my cold dead voice would be heard, and change would occur, the curriculum being made a little bit less stressful in order to prevent future suicides (because AISD naturally rolls over on command), "all the cash, all the fame, and social change".
I could've channeled my inner depression and wrote an emotional suicide note, able to bring tears in some, as I would simply break my poetic style, talking in simple honest words, no more bullshit, just a plain suicide note, describing exactly why I was driven to it, and what I want to be done in my absence (also a declaration of love to my crush, identifying her by name, something I deliberately haven't done).
Such could've been an emotional weapon, such could've been a mighty cry for attention that couldn't be ignored, even by people who might not even know me. I could've written that, and immediately been paid attention to (because adults in the education system seem to have an interesting fascination with the topic of teen suicide). In fact, I still want to write it, but I know I can't now, not because I'm no longer in the situation to be depressed, but because I'm no longer depressed, even though I have every reason to be.
As you all surely know by now, I don't write with my mind, but with my heart. I surround myself with my specific emotion as dictated by the tone of the day, I let it overcome me, build up inside me, until there's only one way I can release it: writing. I can't write my suicide note, even if just for shits and giggles, because I can't overload myself with depression. All I figure I am is lovesick, not enough to merit depression, let alone suicide. I no longer am depressed, and cannot write about depression as a result, all I do feel is blatant carelessness.
I care nothing for my stressful sophomore curriculum, I am who I want to be. I cannot be pushed down by my school, because I'm no longer afraid to voice my opinions publicly. I cannot be depressed by assignments that I'll openly say that I don't have because I didn't give a shit about them. I am Meursault, my indifference resulting in my depression, my slow transition through my hellish, dismal state until finally, finally, I have lashed out at the chaplain within my mind, I have slept and awoken a new man, begotten a new Meursault, one who accepts the pitiful reality of my world. I scare myself somewhat, knowing I care not about my future, that I could flunk out of school, given if I fail two classes, I would get kicked out of my magnet school, one of the places I know I belong. I don't care still. My apathy strengthens itself every day, maybe in a short while to the point where I can ask my crush out, but that won't be for a week or so. I am paranoid about the consequences of my apathy, even though deep down I no longer care what whiplash befalls me. I know it is too late for me to get any sort of help, perhaps I could've back when I was depressed, but not anymore. Surprisingly, I was comfortable back when I was depressed, even though now when I no longer care I feel content. I can still put on the act, the illusion of caring, for I find it easy to feign interest in anything. I am something I always wanted to be, and yet feared to become, and my very rational fear is dying by the day, fear of what I now am and that I no longer care for certain things I once deemed crucial. I don't care for this bullshit anymore. Life is mine, and though I fear the results of my new-found confidence, I care not.
I say to anyone who may be listening, be comfortable with this new me, because I doubt I shall regress to my previous self. I am a new Meursault, and I can only hope that I shall be greeted with cries of hate.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
JotMotW: Entry #9: Love Sucks.
Love is one of the most exhilarating feelings, lifting one up out of darkness and keeping one from slipping off an edge, love can be the most beautiful thing one can ever envision, and yet, love can also be the harshest hell one can be in.
When you fall in love, you try to act upon that love, your desire seemingly within arm's reach, and you find yourself confident enough to do so, allowing that love to be explored. May I say to these people, good for you, I'm happy for you, I wish you nothing but the best (is that too much condescension?). For these people, love is a blessing, for they are confident enough to follow through. For others, love can be a curse. Others find themselves less capable of approaching the object of their affection, their nervousness overcoming them and forcing them to withdraw. Love can lift a person from death and also force another to fall to their knees. The object of your affection may not love you, or worse, they already love another, who's succeeded in being confident enough to ask them out before you do. Love may be amazing for them, but it can be dismal for you.
I am one of the people who is screwed over by love. Every single time I have a crush, they somehow sense my growing affections for them, and out of intimidation, manifest their discomfort in the form of a boyfriend, who in turn intimidates me, primarily out of respect for the bro code (and also because he appears to be a lot better than me). This appears to be a common trait found in my crushes, perhaps the specific traits I'm attracted to are linked to the gene of boyfriend manifestation. Hmmm....
Anyways, I post this because I am in love yet again, against my very will, with a girl who puts all my other crushes to shame. The sad part is we barely ever see each other, and the rare times when we do manage to encounter each other whilst walking the halls don't coincide with the times I feel most confident in terms of talking to a crush. I try to find confidence, but all I can do is listen to the nearby conversation she partakes in and make the occasional witty remark, inciting even the smallest hint of agreement, if not the smallest bout of laughter. When she is affected by this and laughs openly, I feel confident, and yet I still can't talk to her. Intimidation comes hand in hand with the love I feel, part of the reason why boyfriend manifestation is allowed to occur.
I don't want to lose this one, she seems like the one, we're both pretty damn similar, yet also different enough to prevent monotony. We have like personalities, and her beauty is but an added bonus to me, and yet I'm afraid. Afraid of rejection, afraid of being in second place, afraid of feeling pain, which for anyone is only natural.
I'm seriously trying on this one, but still there is hesitation in my step, in my voice, intimidation disguised as caution. I beseech whatever god of love may exist, give me something. Is it too late, is it a waste of my time? Or should I continue? Is this road worth travelling on? Is this desired by someone other than me? Is this wishful thinking, a figment of my imagination, or is this real?
When you fall in love, you try to act upon that love, your desire seemingly within arm's reach, and you find yourself confident enough to do so, allowing that love to be explored. May I say to these people, good for you, I'm happy for you, I wish you nothing but the best (is that too much condescension?). For these people, love is a blessing, for they are confident enough to follow through. For others, love can be a curse. Others find themselves less capable of approaching the object of their affection, their nervousness overcoming them and forcing them to withdraw. Love can lift a person from death and also force another to fall to their knees. The object of your affection may not love you, or worse, they already love another, who's succeeded in being confident enough to ask them out before you do. Love may be amazing for them, but it can be dismal for you.
I am one of the people who is screwed over by love. Every single time I have a crush, they somehow sense my growing affections for them, and out of intimidation, manifest their discomfort in the form of a boyfriend, who in turn intimidates me, primarily out of respect for the bro code (and also because he appears to be a lot better than me). This appears to be a common trait found in my crushes, perhaps the specific traits I'm attracted to are linked to the gene of boyfriend manifestation. Hmmm....
Anyways, I post this because I am in love yet again, against my very will, with a girl who puts all my other crushes to shame. The sad part is we barely ever see each other, and the rare times when we do manage to encounter each other whilst walking the halls don't coincide with the times I feel most confident in terms of talking to a crush. I try to find confidence, but all I can do is listen to the nearby conversation she partakes in and make the occasional witty remark, inciting even the smallest hint of agreement, if not the smallest bout of laughter. When she is affected by this and laughs openly, I feel confident, and yet I still can't talk to her. Intimidation comes hand in hand with the love I feel, part of the reason why boyfriend manifestation is allowed to occur.
I don't want to lose this one, she seems like the one, we're both pretty damn similar, yet also different enough to prevent monotony. We have like personalities, and her beauty is but an added bonus to me, and yet I'm afraid. Afraid of rejection, afraid of being in second place, afraid of feeling pain, which for anyone is only natural.
I'm seriously trying on this one, but still there is hesitation in my step, in my voice, intimidation disguised as caution. I beseech whatever god of love may exist, give me something. Is it too late, is it a waste of my time? Or should I continue? Is this road worth travelling on? Is this desired by someone other than me? Is this wishful thinking, a figment of my imagination, or is this real?
Monday, April 28, 2014
JotMotW: Entry #8: "Just fuck it"
There's a project due tomorrow. A project for english, but it's not really a project. We have to write fanfiction. A fanfiction about the meeting of J. Alfred Prufrock and Meursault, two separate intriguing characters from separate stories. An easy enough assignment to bullshit, and yet I can't do it. I'm mentally drained, as i might've said before. There are things I don't want to do, and yet I don't have any excuse to not do them other than that i don't want to do them, because I feel as if I can't do them. However, given my mental state, I'm probably not far off from the truth. I have been numbed and eroded by stress, I can't do work. Not even in the environment I feel it's easiest for me to concentrate, I can't do my homework. I don't want to go to school anymore! I don't want to be a part of this environment that produces nothing but stress! All this is pointless as the more stressed the students at my school get, the less they actually learn, and the less they want to do. I can't do anything. When you overlay someone with stress, they become lazy and develop less of a will to do the work. That is me right now. I have reached the point where I do not feel empowered to work, yet all my teachers expect me to work, not because they know I want to work, but because I'm a student at the best high school in the city and that's what good students at that high school do.
Yes, I know, I sound like someone who's just some incompetent lazy person who can't be bothered. Any of my teachers who read this will probably think that, but the truth is, no, I'm not lazy, and I'm sure as hell not incompetent. The truth is, my loving teachers, it isn't me, it's you. You claim to give us the right amount of homework for each class, but we have 7 classes! do you honestly think that's right for anyone? I know a guy who gets home at 8 and has to stay up all night to finish his homework. This isn't just me here, this is everyone. You either don't know what we students go through, or you do and simply don't care. My World History teacher even had the nerve to tell us she was just as, if not more tired than all of us, despite the fact that we were currently working on two projects.
So when my teachers will ask me for the reason why I haven't done my homework, I'll be completely honest with them, no more bullshit. I'm too mentally incapable of doing the homework, especially after the massive load of it I've had to do this entire year. I'm no longer afraid of telling my teachers that I don't care about the assignment they've given to me.
Dear teachers, I no longer give a shit. I will do that which I am passionate about, and find my own direction. You make it seem like I'll be a failure in life if I don't pass your precious classes, and while you have a point, that's still mostly a lie. I will be a success in life, just you wait, I'll prove you wrong, mark my words.
Yes, I know, I sound like someone who's just some incompetent lazy person who can't be bothered. Any of my teachers who read this will probably think that, but the truth is, no, I'm not lazy, and I'm sure as hell not incompetent. The truth is, my loving teachers, it isn't me, it's you. You claim to give us the right amount of homework for each class, but we have 7 classes! do you honestly think that's right for anyone? I know a guy who gets home at 8 and has to stay up all night to finish his homework. This isn't just me here, this is everyone. You either don't know what we students go through, or you do and simply don't care. My World History teacher even had the nerve to tell us she was just as, if not more tired than all of us, despite the fact that we were currently working on two projects.
So when my teachers will ask me for the reason why I haven't done my homework, I'll be completely honest with them, no more bullshit. I'm too mentally incapable of doing the homework, especially after the massive load of it I've had to do this entire year. I'm no longer afraid of telling my teachers that I don't care about the assignment they've given to me.
Dear teachers, I no longer give a shit. I will do that which I am passionate about, and find my own direction. You make it seem like I'll be a failure in life if I don't pass your precious classes, and while you have a point, that's still mostly a lie. I will be a success in life, just you wait, I'll prove you wrong, mark my words.
JotMotW: Entry #7: Dulled Down to the Point of Incomprehension by the System
I'm not tired, I'm perfectly awake. My Chemistry test proved to be more challenging than I thought, given my inability to do less than half of the problems. I cannot think, I cannot get my mind focused on Chemistry today, and likely the same thing will occur when I take my AP world history test, I won't be able to focus. Normally I take adderal to stimulate my brain a little, help me clue in and focus on a subject. It used to work, but now it feels like it doesn't, like I'm simply daydreaming against my will again. School has overworked me to the point of hating it, I keep having to remind myself that I don't hate the subjects, I hate the classes. More than that, being overworked has led me to be lazy, even when it's a subject I love. The amount of work is counterproductive, and only makes me not want to learn.
This is what's bad about the American school system: they structure it in such a way that once one gets to high school, they hate it, and thus don't want to learn. I know for a fact that this is happening to me, and my natural curiosity (and good parenting) is the only thing that keep me interested. I think science is cool, and thus I pay attention, I think math is a puzzle, and thus my competitive nature kicks in and forces me to do it. I think english is fun and creative, especially writing, and I can be creative and philosophical. I think history is interesting, and want to learn more about it.
These subjects, all on their own, are absorbing, fun, and I can focus easily, the classes, however, are hell. They could care less about if you learn it and more so if you memorize it for the test. You could memorize all these dates for a history test, take it, then walk out and forget about them for the rest of your life, as they won't help you in 99% of the careers the average person goes into. The classes are pointless, and I'd learn a whole lot more if I were simply given a textbook, told to read it, and learn about history. All I learn from AP world history and english is how to bullshit things, and given most of the assignments are bullshit anyways, it's not too hard to accomplish. They don't allow us to learn at our own pace, forcing us to learn everything in one year, and proving we've learned it by assigning tons of homework about the subject, serving more to actually stress us out rather than make us learn stuff, which only complicates things in the long run.
If you apply more and more stress to someone, they learn and retain less, and that stress also reflects in their personality, as it has with me and my frustration and my giving of less fucks than usual. School can be fun, you can have lots of friends there, but depending on your school, can be a complete waste of time.
In my Latin class, we go slowly and patiently, gradually translating stuff, yet still going at a fast enough pace. We occasionally get off on tangents sometimes, but we always get back on track. Latin is a class I enjoy, as we're given freedom, and it's not too restrictive. The weirdest part is the school hasn't picked up on the idea of freedom. You could simply compare the happiness levels of the language students in each of their classes, and you'd find that the latin students are happier and more open to learning than the other language students, for the most part (may I mention that Latin just has translation homeworks, 2 tests per six weeks, and the occasional quiz. That's it). Even to me, the other language courses seem much more stressful as there are projects everywhere, while we never get any projects of the sort, just straight up material.
The American school system, for the most part, is counterproductive in the long run, and one doesn't have to be an average person in order to be affected by it. I want to change this shit, because as I've said, it's bullshit.
This is what's bad about the American school system: they structure it in such a way that once one gets to high school, they hate it, and thus don't want to learn. I know for a fact that this is happening to me, and my natural curiosity (and good parenting) is the only thing that keep me interested. I think science is cool, and thus I pay attention, I think math is a puzzle, and thus my competitive nature kicks in and forces me to do it. I think english is fun and creative, especially writing, and I can be creative and philosophical. I think history is interesting, and want to learn more about it.
These subjects, all on their own, are absorbing, fun, and I can focus easily, the classes, however, are hell. They could care less about if you learn it and more so if you memorize it for the test. You could memorize all these dates for a history test, take it, then walk out and forget about them for the rest of your life, as they won't help you in 99% of the careers the average person goes into. The classes are pointless, and I'd learn a whole lot more if I were simply given a textbook, told to read it, and learn about history. All I learn from AP world history and english is how to bullshit things, and given most of the assignments are bullshit anyways, it's not too hard to accomplish. They don't allow us to learn at our own pace, forcing us to learn everything in one year, and proving we've learned it by assigning tons of homework about the subject, serving more to actually stress us out rather than make us learn stuff, which only complicates things in the long run.
If you apply more and more stress to someone, they learn and retain less, and that stress also reflects in their personality, as it has with me and my frustration and my giving of less fucks than usual. School can be fun, you can have lots of friends there, but depending on your school, can be a complete waste of time.
In my Latin class, we go slowly and patiently, gradually translating stuff, yet still going at a fast enough pace. We occasionally get off on tangents sometimes, but we always get back on track. Latin is a class I enjoy, as we're given freedom, and it's not too restrictive. The weirdest part is the school hasn't picked up on the idea of freedom. You could simply compare the happiness levels of the language students in each of their classes, and you'd find that the latin students are happier and more open to learning than the other language students, for the most part (may I mention that Latin just has translation homeworks, 2 tests per six weeks, and the occasional quiz. That's it). Even to me, the other language courses seem much more stressful as there are projects everywhere, while we never get any projects of the sort, just straight up material.
The American school system, for the most part, is counterproductive in the long run, and one doesn't have to be an average person in order to be affected by it. I want to change this shit, because as I've said, it's bullshit.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
JotMotW: Entry #6: Paranoia in Laziness
I desire meniality, however indirectly it serves as my desire. I have my rest, I'm calm, I'm not stressed at all, but I still can't focus on my homework, however light, because it clashes with my own desires. I finally feel free, unburdened, everything of my choosing, my life of my own direction for once, and I have no room for homework within this free agenda I possess. Here I am, free from my restrictive schedule, and I have all the time I need to finish my homework, yet I can't.
Now that I have felt myself no longer under the yoke of school, with all it's stressful direction and frustrating decisions, I am free to achieve my own ends. I can do what I please now, accomplish my goals, further my own desires, but I find it hard to get back to schoolwork again. I have tasted the essence of freedom, and now I cannot return myself to servitude. I want to write more, let myself go, have fun, but I am required to force myself to do my schoolwork, but that nulls me out. My desire to be my own lies on one end of the spectrum, my school's desire for me to be a good student on the other. Both converge and create neutrality, so instead, I simply play Flappy 2048, no wish to be productive entering my mind. Paranoia has returned, the pondering of what might happen would I not do anything today, passive stress, unneeding of a reason to attend the concert of voices in my head. My self-confidence only goes so far, I could lose my good grades, I could be embarrassed, I could flunk out of my school, I could spiral into depression (bit late for that one, though...).
None of these are likely to happen, but they could, they have a one in a million chance of happening, and that's still a chance, isn't it? I know that they probably won't happen, but my subconscious mind disagrees. They could happen, the smallest chance ever in history, literally once in a trillion chances, and it'd still make me paranoid. I fear getting up in front of people, lest I be humiliated, when in reality they love me, they look forward to me, they know I'm a cool guy, and yet I'm still afraid. I fear saying a witty remark in class, lest I be called out on something for whatever reason, when in reality half the time people laugh at my quips and jests, and some specifically look forward to it, and yet I'm still afraid. I fear the possibility of going right up to my crush and proclaiming my love for her, lest she reject me and embarrass me, when in reality...she could very well do the same, and yet I'm still afr...well, actually, I think a little nervousness is appropriate in this situation.
I've already proclaimed that, as a result of this harsh year of school, I no longer care about the opinions of others, that I simply don't give a fuck, that I live my life carefree. This is a lie at times, I am paranoid of failing, whether it be school or my own assigned goals. I am confident in my own abilities, and yet also cannot be confident to save my life. My greatest challenge will always be, not the stressful school year I've been facing, but my own self.
Now that I have felt myself no longer under the yoke of school, with all it's stressful direction and frustrating decisions, I am free to achieve my own ends. I can do what I please now, accomplish my goals, further my own desires, but I find it hard to get back to schoolwork again. I have tasted the essence of freedom, and now I cannot return myself to servitude. I want to write more, let myself go, have fun, but I am required to force myself to do my schoolwork, but that nulls me out. My desire to be my own lies on one end of the spectrum, my school's desire for me to be a good student on the other. Both converge and create neutrality, so instead, I simply play Flappy 2048, no wish to be productive entering my mind. Paranoia has returned, the pondering of what might happen would I not do anything today, passive stress, unneeding of a reason to attend the concert of voices in my head. My self-confidence only goes so far, I could lose my good grades, I could be embarrassed, I could flunk out of my school, I could spiral into depression (bit late for that one, though...).
None of these are likely to happen, but they could, they have a one in a million chance of happening, and that's still a chance, isn't it? I know that they probably won't happen, but my subconscious mind disagrees. They could happen, the smallest chance ever in history, literally once in a trillion chances, and it'd still make me paranoid. I fear getting up in front of people, lest I be humiliated, when in reality they love me, they look forward to me, they know I'm a cool guy, and yet I'm still afraid. I fear saying a witty remark in class, lest I be called out on something for whatever reason, when in reality half the time people laugh at my quips and jests, and some specifically look forward to it, and yet I'm still afraid. I fear the possibility of going right up to my crush and proclaiming my love for her, lest she reject me and embarrass me, when in reality...she could very well do the same, and yet I'm still afr...well, actually, I think a little nervousness is appropriate in this situation.
I've already proclaimed that, as a result of this harsh year of school, I no longer care about the opinions of others, that I simply don't give a fuck, that I live my life carefree. This is a lie at times, I am paranoid of failing, whether it be school or my own assigned goals. I am confident in my own abilities, and yet also cannot be confident to save my life. My greatest challenge will always be, not the stressful school year I've been facing, but my own self.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
JotMotW: Entry #5: Peace
This morning is one of happiness, of life. While my week has been one of stress, frustration and judgement, only now do I know peace. My load of homework is currently at a lull, I got out and did something physical outside for once, I watched an episode of Doctor Who, and I feel content. I can keep my eyes open for over 5 minutes without rubbing them and making it look like I've just smoked a joint. I can sit up with ease, I can smile without difficulty, and I can breathe easy, as nothing hard is to be done this weekend.
.......Or so I'd wish.
Gandalf would disagree that this is peace. This is "the deep breath before the plunge", the calm before the coming storm, the eye of the hurricane. Monday I face a chemistry test, where I don't actually get the material quite as well as I'd like. After that bit of stress I have Planet Earth, where my group must face our teacher and confront him about last week's previously-thrown curveball. After that I must confront our Mock AP World History test, where three essays and 70 multiple choice lie in wait, all in two separate class periods. After that, I have a project due on Tuesday and Thursday, which lends to me even more paranoia for the days to come following this blissful hiatus.
How can I enjoy this coming weekend of peace and plenty with this knowledge plaguing the back of my mind? How can I have fun now given the trials and torments that serve as the epilogue to my pleasure trip? My frustration I know shall return, the stress and all the homework will resume their bombardment upon my emotional shields, until they could fail completely, and beget pain emanating from the voices of my subconscious, driving me over the edge. This morning helps me realize all the things I live for. It's hard to remember when the frustration and stress make you forget. I feel like Frodo, the Ring hanging as a pendulum from my neck, the frustration subtly building within me. I want to survive, the voices within me have begun to sing once more, for the first time in a while, and they make me happy. I feel mentally sound, conscious, ready for the day. I can only do my best to forget my pain-to-be, and live for now, as I always try to make myself do. Hopefully I can accomplish some things I've wanted, hopefully, I can make the most of the time I have before it all ends. Hopefully I can someday know peace.
.......Or so I'd wish.
Gandalf would disagree that this is peace. This is "the deep breath before the plunge", the calm before the coming storm, the eye of the hurricane. Monday I face a chemistry test, where I don't actually get the material quite as well as I'd like. After that bit of stress I have Planet Earth, where my group must face our teacher and confront him about last week's previously-thrown curveball. After that I must confront our Mock AP World History test, where three essays and 70 multiple choice lie in wait, all in two separate class periods. After that, I have a project due on Tuesday and Thursday, which lends to me even more paranoia for the days to come following this blissful hiatus.
How can I enjoy this coming weekend of peace and plenty with this knowledge plaguing the back of my mind? How can I have fun now given the trials and torments that serve as the epilogue to my pleasure trip? My frustration I know shall return, the stress and all the homework will resume their bombardment upon my emotional shields, until they could fail completely, and beget pain emanating from the voices of my subconscious, driving me over the edge. This morning helps me realize all the things I live for. It's hard to remember when the frustration and stress make you forget. I feel like Frodo, the Ring hanging as a pendulum from my neck, the frustration subtly building within me. I want to survive, the voices within me have begun to sing once more, for the first time in a while, and they make me happy. I feel mentally sound, conscious, ready for the day. I can only do my best to forget my pain-to-be, and live for now, as I always try to make myself do. Hopefully I can accomplish some things I've wanted, hopefully, I can make the most of the time I have before it all ends. Hopefully I can someday know peace.
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