Jiwon is leaving us today, and it's so sad! She's going back to Korea for the rest of this year, and then coming back in fall quarter of 2015. It's really tragic! We're all going to miss her, and I wish she could stay, but then again, this means she'll graduate with me and Irene, so that's cool, and I'm glad she gets to go see her family. But I wish she would stay.

I'm sick right now. It's to the point that I can't talk, and the best I can do is sort of croak quietly and pathetically from my bed. I feel bad for being so lazy, but part of me is also pleased at this turn of events, because it gives me an excuse to not get up, not go out, and not eat. If I had an unlimited phone battery, I would be all set! As it is though, I had to finally arise and plug in my phone, because it was dying, and now I'm cold and sad, and Sadie is playing Christmas music, which should help, but really doesn't. Also, now I can't watch Netflix or anything, and that's something that would improve the day slightly. Cesar is being unnervingly nice to me, and he wants to visit tomorrow, which probably won't happen, him being who he is, but it's all slightly unsettling. Really, I just want to go home, and not have to deal with any of this. I would make a cup of tea, and settle down with a book or maybe a musical, and forget about people and cold weather and communicable diseases for as long as no one disturbed me. Although to be fair, someone would probably be just as likely to interfere at home as here. So that's all a bit of a pipe dream. But it's something to look forward to anyway, because what have we in this life if not hope?

This is a completely miserable finals week, may I just say. Even if I weren't sick and on my period, I would still have had two finals and a paper due on Monday, and then absolutely nothing until Friday. This is the worst. I hate having nothing to do! Can you believe I have two more days like this? But maybe worse, because Sadie will be done with her first final by then, and will want to party with her annoying friends, and then I'll feel like the requisite awkward person of the floor (which I'm really not, like I'm at UCLA for goodness sakes, I haven't seen this many dorks in one place since I went to Anime Expo, but anyway). And then it will just be downhill from there! Maybe they will invite me, and then I'll awkwardly refuse, and feel even more awkward, and just, ugh. Why does everything have to be so awkward? It's only with Sadie though. Maybe we're just not meant to get along. Although apparently, she's an ENTP, which shouldn't be too bad with my INTP, but I suppose one never knows. Even Meyers-Briggs can fail sometimes. 

My stomach is making a lot of noise right now, and it's fairly embarrassing, but I don't want to go eat. It's really cold outside, and I don't want to go to the dining hall, and there's really nothing that I feel like eating, so I'm basically just stuck with a noisome esophagus here. Ugh. Why does everything have to be so annoying? I feel gross and irritated and uncomfortable and bored, and worst of all, my hair looks super nasty at the moment. And I can't talk! This is not a happy day for me.

Oh, bless Jiwon! She just brought back a box of strawberry macarons from the cafe, and gave some to me and Sadie. Now I've eaten food, so I don't have to feel guilty, and also, that was a truly delicious pastry. Maybe I should get some more on my own later. Although no, sugar is supposed to be detrimental for sickness, isn't it?

Not a good night

What did you do this summer?
I went to a mental hospital.
Really, what for, volunteering or visiting?
No, I WENT there. For anorexia.


...oh.

I'm so tired of not being able to answer the simplest questions. Or at least, not being able to answer them truthfully. I'm tired of hiding this whole other part of myself, the sick part, the scared part, the (sometimes) suicidal part. I try so hard to be the glittery little princess all the time, but at this point, I'm not sure if that's who I really am, or if I'm just compensating for the lack of anything attractive inside me. Because, let's face it, there is nothing attractive inside me. And that is what I'm sick of, more than having to pretend all the time, since you know if I didn't have anything wrong with me, I wouldn't have to pretend in the first place.
It disgusts me how wrong I am, how defective. I'm like a prototype gone wrong– someone messed up my assembly in the factory, and now I'm just a faulty bit of machinery, whirring helplessly around until the inevitable end. I'm so sick of it! I'm sick of needing medication in order to be able to function, and even then sometimes not being able to function anyway. I'm sick of not having any interest in things I love, and of not having the attention span to read academic articles anymore. How long has it been since I last looked up econ stuff? Don't think I'm not ashamed of it, either. Not an hour goes by that I'm not feeling ashamed of something that I can't help, but my mind is halfway-convinced that I can. You're supposed to be smart, why can't you figure out a way to feel better? Don't be so anxious, why are you so anxious all the time? You're ridiculous. And why didn't you eat today? Do you think it's cool and edgy or something? Trust me, no matter what anyone wants to say to me, I've already been there myself. I'm sick of it! I want to be normal so badly. All I want is to be able to function in everyday life up to the best of my ability, like other people do, like I should be able to do. I'm sick of taking the long way around campus so I don't have to see crowds of people, and of sitting in a crowded lecture hall frozen in panic, and of having my heart pounding so loudly in the elevator that it seems like everyone in the building should be able to hear it. I'm sick of turning down invitations because I can't make myself go out, and of pushing away the people I care about because I'm afraid they hate me. I'm sick of feeling my stomach tighten in dread every time I hear my roommates' keys in the door, and of cringing every time I hear voices in the hall. Why can't I be more normal? I feel so ashamed all the time, even when I do interact with people, like if it goes well, why can't you do this all the time? and if it goes not so well, why are you trying to have any pretensions of normalcy, you freak of nature? Either way, I can't win– just like the best of the Romantic poets, I have a response to every argument, except those against myself.
Now that I think about it, it's strange– I have excellent self-control, I mean it was so good it led me all the way to the hospital– but nowadays, it seems like I can't apply it. I can't even make myself get out of bed sometimes, for goodness' sakes. Mind over matter: I should be able to control my emotions, or at the very least, my thoughts. But it's so hard! I'm sick of being sick, and I'm sick of hiding the fact that I'm sick. Nothing's as it should be, not for me, not anymore.

What did you do this summer?
Not much, just the usual.
Cool.

Eustacia

So I went to take a shower, and when I came back into my room, looking like a cross between a drowned rat and a swamp monster, Irene and Jiwon were there, which I ordinarily wouldn't mind, but they were having a very heartfelt discussion with Sadie, which Sadie made abundantly obvious was secret. I dried my hair and got dressed, and then I grabbed my laptop and phone and some nail polish and left, mumbling some vague excuse about having to touch up my manicure. Which wasn't a lie; my nail beds were looking fairly dreadful, but it's not totally the truth either. I mean, what am I supposed to do in that situation? It feels like I'm an interloper in my own room, and it's horribly awkward. You know, this feeling has only been growing as the quarter's gone on. I thought I was doing better, but apparently not. More often than not, Irene or Jiwon will belatedly share something with me that everyone else knows already, which reflects well on them, but not on the larger society. All I am is an outsider in their special little circle. I mean, more than half the people in my hall don't even know my name. And when they do greet me, I have the distinct feeling that it's just out of pity. At least, I get that feeling with Sadie's friends. You know, I have the distinct impression that she doesn't like me, and I have no idea why that should be. I'm a nice person, I swear! I'm quiet and polite, and I clean up after myself, and I smell good, and I'm friendly 100% of the time, and I don't sulk (visibly), and I'm thoughtful of other people always! By the way, may I just say that none of this goes for her? She acts like a spoiled baby, and even Jiwon has noticed. But where was I? Oh yeah, apparently she complained to Eric that I sleep way too much. And okay, I guess by her standards, I do. But what the hell, I'm not bothering anyone! Why should that upset her? To be honest, this bothers me more than it should, probably because I feel guilty about it myself. This week, I missed a majority of my classes, because I couldn't make myself get out of bed, and I know that's a problem, okay, you don't need to tell me that. But man, I feel like there's a rock sitting on my chest preventing me from getting up. Even getting up at 1:30 (as I did once) is a struggle. Another issue is that I can't stay asleep for very long, so the amount of actual rest I get during the night is much lower than one might think, and I'm obliged to make up for it in the morning (although I can't stay asleep then either). A lot of the time I spend lying in my bed is not spent asleep; I'm either trying to fall back to sleep, or trying to persuade myself to get up and face the day. But, I concede, to Sadie's eyes, it does look like I'm just a slug. Again though- why does this bother her? I'm not sure how much more unassuming I could be. It really is bad though, and believe me, I hate myself for it. I am in no way using mental illness as an excuse. If someone were to do that for me, in fact, I would disagree with them and argue that I'm just lazy. No one can be a harsher critic of me than me, okay? I just don't see why it's anyone's business whether I'm sleeping or not, as long as I don't get in their way. Which brings me back to the original question: why doesn't Sadie like me? I'm likable! And I've never done anything to her (or at least that I know of)! People have disliked me before, but that was because they thought I was a giggly dumb-blonde valley girl, and honestly, that doesn't bother me, because it's just the facade that I project, and it's not really me, you know? But this, this is someone objecting to me, the real me, the person whom she lives with and sees in all her human glory. If I were in the right state of mind, I might take it as a compliment that my personality is strong enough to garner dislike, but I'm not in the right state of mind tonight. Everything is terrible right now; the lack of justice in the world, the fact that worms come out on the sidewalk only to die in the rain, the cancellation of Firefly, everything. If my nails turn out badly, you can bet I'll be depressed about that for hours. I'm miserable, and even if I feel better tomorrow, I have to get there first. What can I do tonight? I just want to curl up in my bed and watch Rent until I fall asleep, but obviously that's not an option for me. I have to stay down here in this room for another few hours, and even then, I won't want to go back upstairs. What if I just slept in this room? It's deserted, and behind two sets of heavy doors, so no one will come in to disturb me, probably. On the downside, that means if I do get attacked, no one will be on hand to help. So that's a consideration. You know, I'm very lucky that I know about this room. Irene and Jiwon and Eric and Cruz and I found it one night when we were looking for a quiet place to study. No one really comes here, except, unfortunately, isolated large groups of very loud and officious people, but they only come seldom, and as you can see, they are not here tonight. So that is one thing for which I can be grateful, I mean how terrible would it be to be stuck outside my room with no place to go? But to be honest, I would trade possession of this room tonight for the chance to inhabit my own dorm and nurse my sorrows in peace. I think I need to find some new coping mechanisms that require no accoutrements and that I can perform anytime and anyplace. Not only would that help me in a situation like this (which I foresee as becoming more and more common as this year goes on), it would also help me in the many bouts of despondency I engage in throughout the course of the day. So what shall it be? Oh I wish I knew! If I did, maybe I wouldn't feel so wretched all the time. Anyway, how long should I stay down here? I want them to be asleep when I go up, so I won't have to deal with them, but if I stay up too late, I won't be able to wake up on time for my 10:00 discussion tomorrow (that I have to go to because I skipped the one today) (talk about shooting yourself in the foot). So I'm not sure what's a good time. Sadie goes to bed pretty early, usually around 1, and Irene will have gone back to her own room by that time, since she, unlike some people, is considerate, and Jiwon usually stays up studying and watching Netflix, but that doesn't really matter. She will understand. So if I stay here another hour, I should be fine. Problem is, what am I going to do for that hour? Candy Crush only gives five lives at a time, after all. Well, there's always tumblr. All right, let's do this I guess. But part of me can't help thinking it would be easier to just go up to the tenth floor and jump out the window. No no, I can't think like that. I get to choose what stays in my head, and I don't want that in there. I can get through any difficulties I face, because I'm resilient and brave and also I look really good with winged eyeliner. If I'm going to be the requisite outcast of the floor, at least I can be glamorous. I'm going to go all Eustacia Vye from now on, except I'll stick with Damon and not go for Clym. (Unless this is a crossover and Sydney Carton appears, in which case I'm definitely going for him) but you know, Eustacia is beautiful and smart and sophisticated, and I could do much worse than be her. I've always loved her, after all. So maybe this new role of mine won't be too bad. Okay, let's go. Get it gurl!

Happy December 1st!

I just downloaded the iPhone app for this, so now I can mobile blog to my heart's content. Which is excellent, because there are many times throughout the course of my life in which I wish to share a witty remark with the world at large, and now everyone can partake of my charming and hilarious banter at any time. Isn't it splendid? Yes it is! But do you know what's not splendid? Several of the good folks in my hall, including my roommate Sadie, have elected to hold a very noisy cocktail party right outside my door. I'm not studying, but if I were, dear me, I would be incensed. As it is, I merely feel rather ashamed to not be partaking in the glorious chatter and hilarity going on outside. At least Jiwon is with me to keep me company in my solitude here. Maybe I can persuade her to watch some Broadway musicals with me. Oh dear, oh dear, what's to be done? I feel like Heathcliff, and that's not at all pleasant! I would rather be Elizabeth Bennett. Shall I march myself on out to the hallway and join in the discussion with a hearty will? Maybe they would accept me fondly as one of their own. But no, I have a pressing obligation to finish watching The Two Towers, and I can't shirk my duty. Just call me Sam; I'm a paragon of responsibility. Besides, now I can fall asleep at an obscenely early hour, and all will be well. Goodnight now!

November rain

It's a lovely cold rainy day (or night, really), and I'm cozy and comfortable with some French indie pop, a bowl of hot dim sum, and a pair of voluminous pink flannel jammies with penguins on them. Really, what else could I ask for, besides a cup of tea and a nice book? I have here all the desires of man. Today was Sunday, but I only had to teach two students, so all is well on that front. The only thing worrying me is my class schedule for next quarter, because although I got into the honors seminar for one of my life sciences (one of only twenty spots holllaaaa), I'm not allowed to increase my max units until spring quarter. So I can only take 19, and since all my classes are 5 (for whatever reason), I can almost but not quite take four classes, and if that isn't the most blamed annoying facet of academic bureaucracy ever, I'll eat my hat! (I wonder if that idiom came from the pioneer days when people actually had to eat their hats?) So I can only take three classes now, and I know that's normal and all, and most people don't take more than that, but still, I want to! This throws off my plans a little bit. You see, I had it all planned out where I could take four classes every quarter and still be on top of things, but now I have to wait for one of my GEs. Oh yes, there was another problem with that too, you see, I tried to take a class that would fulfill both my writing and my historical analysis, but when I went to sign up, they wouldn't let me. Apparently, only freshmen can take that class. Well I never! Now I have to take them separately, because the only other class that fulfills both is from the Labor and the Workplace department. I don't even know what that is, but I can tell conclusively that I want nothing to do with it. Better to let the purveyors of that noble field labor on in their workplace undisturbed without having to contend with any uppity linguistics majors. And okay, although part of me is annoyed at having to take two classes instead of one, the other part of me is delighted to take two classes instead of one. I mean, that's double the stuff I can learn, and isn't that exciting? Maybe I should take philosophy. I've always wanted to. Or maybe an English class? English is my true love (one of them) after all. Oh my goodness me, there are so many options, and I'm absolutely filled with excitement! Once I get done with phonology, everything's going to fly right on by. Linguistics is amazing as a field, and it's indisputable that there are fascinating aspects to everything, but the fact remains that phonology and phonetics have a very weak appeal for me. Maybe it has to do with the strange sounds we have to make on a daily basis (do you know how hard it is to sound dignified while producing a pharyngeal fricative?) or maybe it's the all-too straightforward nature of the subjects (it could be a biochem course with the amount of memorization we do), but they just can't stir my soul like syntax does. There's just something about solving problems and proving them that gets my blood pumping, and it is so amazing. I don't think I've ever had that rush of adrenaline during phonetics yet this quarter (or rather I did once, but it was because of a connection I made on my own that may or may not be in fact fallacious). I'm super pumped to take Syntax II later (since I took Syntax I in Ohio). But also, I'm really excited to take semantics! Although I've never taken a course in it per se, I have taken Language and Formal Reasoning in Ohio, which is basically poor man's semantics, and I loved it so very much that I still hold my other linguistics classes to it as a standard. So I'm excited to take that this quarter, and Semantics II later. There's so much to look forward to!
Lately, I've fallen back into love with musicals. I mean, I've always loved them, but now I'm getting into them hardcore especially Rent. Yesterday, I stayed up fairly late looking up different versions of the songs sung by different singers to see who fits their character the best. I've come to the conclusion that Adam Pascal is the best Roger, but the jury's still out on Mimi. Rosario Dawson has a lovely voice, but Daphne Whatsit maybe fits her better? I can't decide! Oh man, but I'm loving this. Rent is such an amazing and perfect musical (okay, it's not perfect, but it's still lovelier than a packet of penguins), and La Boheme is such an amazing opera too, and just oh man, I am so in awe of it. If I could play Mimi in any production of it anywhere, I would be so happy. Or would I be better as Maureen? Really, I think I would, especially given Mimi's propensity for dancing, but I don't want to sing Over the Moon. Like, I get what they were trying to do with it, and the artistic part of me appreciates it, but the thought of singing makes me shudder. Okay, I admit it– there's not really a good part for me in Rent. Both my voice and my personality are wrong for it. Penny from Hairspray would be a perfect role for me (or maybe Shiloh from Repo the Genetic Opera if we want to get weird with it), like as much as I would love to be the sexy, sassy lead, everything about me screams soubrette, and that's okay! Really, that's the fun character to play anyway. And I'm sure there are pieces where people like me would be the lead! Just look at A Doll's House. I'm just waiting for the day when they make a musical version of that. I might spontaneously combust, but it will be a blaze of glory and joy if I do. Someone write to Jonathan Larson; this needs to be done immediately.
Remember when I said that TV shows are the literature of today? I still maintain that that's true. Literature is like matter– it can't be destroyed, it can only change form. Well, I guess it can be created, though. So that's not a good analogy. But then again, can it really? Pre-literate cultures often had very impressive oral traditions, and really, that's literature, isn't it? It's not written down, but it's still true to the spirit of the thing, if not the letter (that was a pun). So maybe it's true, literature is akin to matter. Anyway! I think there's a definite hierarchy in the world of shows, and an art to it, and a measure of connoisseur-ship, and analysis, and everything else that makes conventional literature what it is (and so wonderful), and it might be in a different media, but it's the same idea that's persisted through the ages. So if I sit around for five hours watching The X-Files, I'm actually participating in something quite cultural, and not wasting my time at all. Yeah. Oh yes, and I think movies also fit in here! Not all of them are enduring, or of literary merit, or even worth watching at all, but some are excellent masterpieces, and probably will be assigned to students in seventy-five years. Part of me doesn't like this shift away from conventional media, because I will always be a little bit of a Luddite, but another part of me is excited to see these changes. I'd like to think that I can embrace change in the world, and it's kind of irritating and all, but then again, it's also so thrilling! Look at where we're going; where will we be in fifty years? Who knows, not me! Right now, I'm feeling optimistic, so I'm only focusing on the good aspects of progress, and of the state of the current world (which is considerably harder). But there's good everywhere, we just have to look for it. How's that for a pithy little gem? Maybe I should think a little harder about going into psych. I would have a new bromide every day. Okay, on that cheerful note, I'm going to go make potatoes. Bye now!

I'm livid

I actually can't believe what's happening in Ferguson right now. Like, I feel physically ill. Why did I think the justice system would operate like it should? And how can people be so disgusting? This better be in history books in fifty years, and it better be an indictment of those horrible racist pieces of human garbage who valued a human life as nothing and let a murderer walk free. Right now, I'm so angry and upset and yes, I have white privilege, and no, I don't have to worry about this happening to me or to anyone in my family, but I am a human being, and I'm frankly outraged at this miscarriage of justice. Literally, I don't even understand. How could anyone look at a situation like this and not side with Mike Brown and his family? It's a bad time to be American today.

Uggggh this is the worst ever like all I want to do is sit on my bed and eat sweets and watch the Lord of the Rings, like is that too much to ask? Why must this be? If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Speaking of which, Sadie honey, I know it’s late and cold, but you seriously might want to think about showering, because they can probably smell you in Westwood. How am I supposed to sleep in here like this? And why on earth does everyone seem to hate fresh air? I really do try to keep the window open, man, I really do. I don’t think we’re in any danger of cat burglars or errant Claremont-era Spidermen, Besides, what do we have to steal? Probably a couple grand worth of textbooks, yeah, but I don’t think that’s on any master thief’s top ten. Although I guess one never knows. Good ol Lee the Libertarian did say something about someone breaking into somebody’s dorm and making away with all their study supplies (and this person was a linguistics major, so the loss of that exorbitant Intro to Ling brick must have been extraordinarily devastating). Hopefully that’s something that only happens in Ohio, but who can say? Maybe I should start sleeping with all my textbooks under my pillow.

I can’t believe I broke up with Ty. He seemed so stable. It’s too bad he turned out to be such a massive piss coordinator. Why is that always the case? Maybe I should date someone superficially rude and moody and they would turn out to be a being of pure sweetness and light underneath it all. Just like Mr. Darcy, except, you know, not. I don’t play that way. Sydney Carton is and will always be my goal. But man, how am I going to find someone like that? Life isn’t a Dickens novel (thank goodness), and unfortunately, I think the likelihood of me finding a perfect soulmate is just about equal to the likelihood of me finding the Shire. Whether it’s The One Ring or just simply The One, I’m up the creek without a dog in the gunfight either way. Which sounds rather gloomy, but come on, I’m an experienced woman– I’ve lived for almost two decades. Surely I know something about the world by now. (Also, I think that was a most beautifully mixed metaphor. I’m a veritable alchemist with language) What’s a poor girl to do? Maybe I should run away and live in a hermitage. If I did that, though, I wouldn’t get to take any more linguistics classes, and then where would I be? Oh no, that is just not an option. Well, I feel that I am dangerously close to an existential crisis, so I think on this happy note, I will retire to my bed (where I might have a crisis anyway, but at least I’ll be theoretically in the right place). Goodnight y’all!

I forgot to bring my medication with me when I came to school this week, and I think I'm already feeling the effects. And it's not like I was doing splendidly before either. Why is my brain doing this to me? I mean, enough should be enough, right? Maybe I should just go to bed. But I kind of don't want to, because both my roommates are out partying in the hall with the rest of the geniuses on my floor, and I don't want to look like a narcoleptic loner sleeping in here all by myself. Like, that's no fun at all, right? Also, I really need to be doing some linguistics stuff, but I can't seem to concentrate on anything right now, so I'm procrastinating it, but then I know I have to do it, so I can't sleep yet. Oh yes, and I need to be studying for my anthro midterm too. And that's the story, folks. What am I to do here? My life is like a barrel of mold and disappointment. (That was a really nice and poetic simile, just saying) Should I march out into the hall and demand that people start paying attention to me and give me alcohol? Not that they have any, probably, as it's illegal to have in the dorms, but maybe it would appeal to their bibulous lifestyles and make them love me deeply. Oh, my socialite roommate just came in and invited me to join them all out in the hall, and I immediately refused, like the wretched recluse that I am. Why do I do these things? Why am I me? Man, I really have to shape up here, or I'm going to end up as lonely as the unpaired rounded back vowel. At least I have nice eyebrows. That ought to count for something, right? If you have nice eyebrows, it's much easier to be rude and antisocial and mysterious and get away with it (a good wardrobe helps immensely as well). Speaking of which (sort of) I cut my bangs over the weekend, and now they're kind of short, and on one hand, I have the potential to look fierce, but on the other hand, I'm now possessed of too-short bangs, and I'm not sure if I actually look good or not. As always, people keep staring at me wherever I go, only now there's a friendly sort of flavor to it, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm adorable, or because I'm pitiably ugly. When I was getting dinner yesterday, some dude randomly told me that he liked my bangs, and that's an indication that I don't look good, because he was probably being sarcastic, right? But then again, maybe he was just hitting on me and not doing a very good job of it. I don't know, man! This is all so difficult. If only I could be sure that I look good, then I would feel at least 50% better about my life! Maybe I just have to embrace my inner beauty and accept myself as the majestic and flawless masterpiece that I am without any negative judgement allowed, and everything will be all sparkles and sunshine and daisies and Renoir's version of Impressionism. I know some people at a certain mental hospital who would be terribly enthused about that idea. But in the meantime, I have to contend with the joys of dorm life, and I have not the faintest idea how I'm going to go about doing that. Perhaps I should ask my cheery compatriots for some potations after all.

So I've started school now, and it's really not as bad as one might think! My classes are very interesting (although my anthropology teacher has an annoying habit of hating on linguistics at every possible opportunity, and naturally I take this very personally), and I've figured out where they are, so I don't have to lead quite so early in the morning to account for getting lost. It's still a bit of a struggle getting back to my dorm sometimes, but I think I'm on the right track now. Oh, and the people are lovely for the most part! My roommates are not weird, and they're both transfers and are older than I am (because I'm a year younger than all the other transfer students), and we all get along well. The people in my hall are also very nice (except for one, but that's okay, there's always one), and I've been managing to talk more and be a little more social, so I'm understandably proud of myself for that. What I'm not proud of is my diet, because I can palpably feel the eating disorder coming back and taking over, so I definitely have to do something about that, but goodness me, the place is a breeding ground for disease. If I didn't have anorexia coming in, I probably would coming out. No, that's not true, it's not hard to keep healthy, it's just the people I hang around with, especially one of my roommates. She acts almost like I do, and I think it's pretty unhealthy. But I'm not sure what to do, beyond encouraging her to eat healthy things, because it's difficult (not to mention awkward) to intervene in someone's life in such a personal way. If it gets any worse, and I can see beyond a shadow of a doubt that she's struggling with real health issues, of course I will have to step in somehow, but as it is, I'm still hesitant. What would you do? It's a sticky situation.
Diet problems aside, I'm doing much better with everything than I was in Ohio, I think. Although I haven't yet joined any music organizations, whether for credit or otherwise, and it's getting a little late, so I'm getting worried. But I'm not sure where to go! How do people find these things out? I'm pretty sure all the auditions have passed already, so that's another obstacle. Or would they let me audition later, maybe, if I exhibited a positive can-do attitude? Maybe I could talk to multiple groups and join the nicest one. But then they might be really bad. Oh dear. I just don't know what to do! This is one of those situations where I just need to get in there and do something, and coincidentally, one of those situations where I show myself to my worst advantage. It's very difficult for me to act without ruminating for awhile, and that's okay I guess, but it does put a crimp on life sometimes. Perhaps I belong in academia after all.
Oh yeah, that reminds me! I've been thinking, maybe I could go into psychology. I know, I know– it's a pseudoscience and all, but with the state of the world as it is, mental health is a lucrative profession. My only problem is that everyone else can see this too, so I would have a lot of competition, but still, it might be something I could do. This isn't random though, or purely motivated by acquisitiveness. I think I would be good at it, because even though I can't solve my own problems, I'm very good at thinking through how other people can solve theirs. Just because I can't seem to put things into practice in my own life doesn't mean I don't know them, and plus, I'm an excellent listener. And okay, truth to be told, I was a little inspired when I went to the program. Everyone there was so good, and they seemed to love what they were doing so much, and I hate to admit it, but they helped me quite a bit. Just think of what they could do with someone who was actually willing to be there! Since I have all these problems, shouldn't I do some good with them and help other people who are going through the same thing? It seems like it's the right thing to do. But then again, how helpful would I really be if I was struggling so much in my own life? It would really be a case of physician heal thyself– I just hope my patients wouldn't try to take me for an example. Or maybe that's better, because I could tell them conclusively what not to do. Well now, I don't know. But it's a thought.
I was supposed to see my bae today (since I'm home for the weekend), but his car broke down, so he can't come over, and Mom was too busy to drive me to his house. This is one of those times when I really wish I had my license. I miss him, man! Even though it's only been a week since I've seen him, it's felt like longer. He's such a calming and lovely presence in my life, like the foundation of a well-built house, or a nice fuzzy comforter (probably those were not the most romantic comparisons I could have made, but I think they were very sweet, personally). How is it possible for anyone to be so patient and kind and good-hearted? He's unbelievable! (In a good way that is, but still) Last Friday, we had a fight, and when I said we, I mean I, since I was the only one doing any fighting. Man, I was really going at it, and mind you, I'm one of the most easy-going people ever, but bless my soul, if he didn't get my blood flowing! You see, I thought he was going against my feminist ideology (for lack of a better description), and I really couldn't have that. I'm not sure I want to align myself with today's feminist movement because of several problematic issues that I've seen, but I have passionate beliefs that at least parallel theirs in most regards, and if you mess with that, I'm not going to take it. Then, he made the mistake of saying something not very friendly towards the MOGAI movement, and everything really went down in flames. I can't condone that, you know? Fortunately, the first bit was a misunderstanding, and the second bit was ignorance, since although he is very supportive towards marginalized people, he doesn't really know a lot, so he didn't mean any harm at all, and after I set him straight, he was fine. And I never stay mad for long, so after I cooled down, we talked about it, and I was so amazed by how nice he was! He didn't make me apologize, and he didn't get mad, and he didn't say that I "wasn't worth his forgiveness" as my sister's horrible boyfriend says to her frequently, and basically, everything was great (I didn't apologize by the way, because I don't think I did anything wrong) (except maybe act a little impolite, but he doesn't mind that). I think you can tell a lot about a person by how they handle conflict, and he seems to handle it pretty well. Of course he's not perfect, but he's miles ahead of some, and that's a good sign. So anyway, that was a really long-winded illustration of his lovely personality, and how lucky I am! Although I guess I could be luckier at the moment, because I would really like to see him, but there's always tomorrow!
I should go to bed now, because I'm yawning like some kind of oxygen fiend, and I have to get up early for church tomorrow anyway, so I'll sleep now. Although I might play some calming game first, I don't know. At this point, I need all the aid in sleeping that I can get. Okay, goodnight!

I feel like it's been a really long time since I wrote anything. And I'm sure you're all wondering about my fascinating life, so here I am to provide insight into the beauty and joy that surrounds me daily.
So, it's been a little more than a month since I started treatment, and I'm finally in intensive outpatient instead of partial hospitalization, and let me tell you, my life has improved by at least 50% just from that alone. Now I don't have to get up at 7 in the morning anymore, and it's wonderful. I still have to spend my time eating copious amounts of dubiously tasteful food and talking about my feelings though, so I'm not sure just how positively we can qualify the improvement. Still, as I always say, the more time I spend asleep, the better. Speaking of which (sort of), I finally started medication, and it's so nice. Honestly, I have no idea why I didn't just bite the bullet (or tablet) and take it earlier, because it's really great. At the moment, I'm on two meds at fairly low doses, but tomorrow I'm going to talk to my psychiatrist about increasing them if I can, since my symptoms haven't decreased as much as I would like. Still, I'm very happy with the outcome, and it's really great not to be suicidal anymore. I'm a firm believer now; I think everyone should go on medication.
On October 2nd, I'm going to start school, and honestly, I'm very scared. How am I going to manage this? What if I'm bombarded by weird people? What if I am a weird people? Oh goodness me, I'm not sure I'm up to this. At least my classes are going to be interesting. Although they only let you sign up for three at first, which is weird (but understandable, given the immense size of the student population), so I'm not going to be very busy at all, even if I get my fourth class later. But I like my selection, and I think it's going to be a fun quarter. I'm taking art history, anthropology, and a linguistics class (which is at a higher level than the one the other ling transfers have to take, so I'm pleased with OSU's course selection), and Chinese, if I can get it. You see, I have to take two languages here, and although I have almost enough credits to be done with Spanish (I have to take one more course), I still need another language, and it can't be Indo-European. And since we've all been trying to learn Chinese for years, and X is taking it for free at Columbia (oh the perks of being a Juilliard student), I figure it's a good choice. I still can't talk to my relatives though, since they all speak Cantonese. Ah well. At least I can work for the government.
Tonight, as many other nights prior, I spent my time with the bae, being all adorable and murmuring sweet nothings into each other's ears and arguing about the economy and all that cute stuff that couples do. He's such a diehard Democrat, and that's great, but man, he is so hardheaded sometimes. Arguing with him about the free market for example, wow that is really difficult. He is persuaded that the more the government intervenes, the better everything will be, and nothing will convince him otherwise. Oh dear, oh dear, I can't believe I'm dating a Keynesian! No, but he's very lovely, and I even watched football with him, so that's how you know it's real. There are about five hundred things I care more about than whether or not the Giants will beat the Redskins (for example, whether or not the Redskins will change their name to something that's not a racial slur), but if I think of it as an epic reenactment of the Battle of Five Armies, I can pull through. And now I know enough to hold a decent conversation, so maybe all is right in the end.
It's pi time, by which I mean it's 3:14 AM, so I really should probably go to bed. I have the pleasure of treatment to look forward to tomorrow, and I really wouldn't want to oversleep and miss any of that! Actually, I did that today. Dad took a nap too, and forgot to wake me up, so it was all bad all around. But my treatment team wasn't too bent out of shape about it, fortunately. Still, I really should get to sleep. Perhaps I will play one round of Candy Crush before I hit the hay. That game is so addictive, I swear. If only they would grant me more than five lives at one time. It's probably good for me to be limited though. Well-p, time to head off! I will talk about myself more later, never fear. It's always honesty hour here. Okay, goodnight!

I'm never not anxious, and I hate it. Why can't I just calm down for a little bit? Nothing's going to happen. I mean, come on gurl, get it together. Although actually, maybe now I can get it together, because I just started Lexapro, and I'm looking forward to see what will happen and if it will help me. It shouldn't be such a rad experience for me, but I'm super excited anyway. But you know what I'm not excited about? My therapy hospital treatment program tomorrow! (Is a therapy hospital a thing? It sounds much better than calling it a mental hospital, I think) Wow, I really hate it already. Everyone is creepily peppy, and it has all the trappings of a cult, complete with special jargon, special food, a no-cell phone policy, and a dress code. Like, what are they trying to pull here? Maybe it's all motivation for us to get better and leave quickly. If it's not that, then I just don't know what to say, because it's all pretty terrible. They make us eat so much, and all in a group too, and then we have to sit around in said group and talk about our feelings, I mean, come on is there anything conceivably less conducive to my comfort? I don't deny that I probably do need help, since if what they say is true, my heart is on its way out because of bad nutrition, but I really don't think this is the right way to go about it. That begs the question of what is the right way, and to tell you the truth I'm not sure, but I can say with all the certainty I possess that this isn't it. I'm pretty sure it's just going to make things worse, and I feel so guilty, because I know my family did expend some effort in getting me here, but I did warn them that I didn't think this was for me, and they didn't listen, so maybe it's not entirely my fault. Still, I do feel pretty bad, because I feel like I'm faking my problems or something, and I don't deserve this, and I don't even want it, so I really don't deserve it, and man, I dunno, I have very mixed feelings about it all. All I know is that I dread every day like 90% more now, and I didn't even know that was possible, so I guess that's sort of amazing in a way, but I wish some of the amazement in my life would be of the good kind for once. It's so hard to make myself go through all this; I don't really even care about my health anymore, I just want to stop putting in so much effort for so little result. I feel a bit like Sisyphus from the old Greek myth, actually, just pushing through one horrible day only to start all over again the next. All I ever looked forward to through this whole horrible excuse for a summer was staying up late and watching Netflix until I stopped feeling so desperately bad and my mind could finally turn off, but I can't even do that anymore, and when even that's gone, what am I even here for? There's no relief from any of this, and I really hate it. If I weren't in this program, things might not be any better, but I would think they were, and that would count for a lot. I'm not sure what's more important here, my mental health or my physical health (if the program is indeed helping my physical health, which I doubt). But I am sure that I want to find some other way to fix things. In this case, I think the costs far outweigh the benefits.

A teatime chat with me

I'm drinking passion flower tea because it's supposed to have soporific qualities, but it's rather bitter. Maybe I let it steep too long? I wonder if it would be improved in any way if I put in a shot of brandy. It couldn't hurt, right? I'm going to try it.
It helped quite a bit, actually. Now it tastes like alcohol instead of medicine, and that's something I can go for. Plus, if I mix two sedatives, the effect should be twice as strong, right? I'm going to be knocked out like a light tonight (for once).
X just got back from his music camp, and it's lovely to see him and all, but he's developed quite the abrasive personality recently, probably because he thinks he needs it to fit in in New York, and when he's not being rude, he's bragging about his powerful charm and irresistible-ness to women (which is something of which he really shouldn't brag but anyway). And that's great, but it got old the first day he did it, and now I'm totally sick of it. Really, you're not supposed to tell your sister all the salacious details of your romantic encounters, for goodness' sake. Believe me, she doesn't want to know. Although it's true, I might be a little bit of a prude, because everyone else I know is more comfortable with a lot of these personal things than I am. To me, private stuff is private for a reason, and I get twitchy when anything too overt gets discussed too overtly. When it pertains to me, I try to be honest and everything, but still, ew. Anyway, at the moment, I feel like the unwanted member of the family even more than usual. All of us kids used to get along in a little club, and I guess we still do to some extent, but now I'm more or less the odd one out all the time, and I'm not sure if it's because something in the family dynamic has changed or because I'm isolating myself more or maybe both, but it's rather unpleasant. If you can't turn to your family, where are you supposed to go?
Today, my boo and I discussed breaking up, and it was terrible. Now I'm not sure what's going on. He's afraid that since I'm going to LA and he's staying here for another year that we won't get to visit enough and I'll lose interest in him, which obviously isn't happening, because if anyone's queen of difficult long-distance relationships, it's me, but I'm not sure how to reassure him of that. At any rate, we put off the discussion until we can talk in person on Thursday (since he started school already and his parents won't let him drive anywhere until class is done for the week, which is eminently sensible and laudable), and now he's acting like nothing's wrong, and I'm not sure what to do. Well, actually, he stopped texting me awhile back, and now I'm freaking out, but then again, that's so mething that he does (which isn't great for me, but I'm trying to be chill), so again, I don't know. What am I supposed to do here? I'm not that emotionally invested that breaking up would kill me, but I don't really want to, especially since it seems fairly unnecessary, but who knows. I'll just stop thinking about him and watch Star Trek or something.
Why is it so hot in here? This is insupportable. I need some ice powers here or something.
Speaking of which, I always get either ice/weather powers or super-intelligence whenever I take superhero tests, which leads me to believe that I would be a superb incarnation of the coolest superhero ever (pun intended) should exposure to gamma radiation ever come to pass. At this point, I'm not sure what my code name would be, but rest assured it would be extremely rad and memorable, yet classy and clever, and I would become a household word (in a good way).
Man, I love superhero stuff.
Tomorrow, I have to work, and I really don't want to. I know it's great that I'm building up my resume, and getting a fraction of minimum wage and everything, but I'm really sick of going to the conservatory. It's bad enough teaching my own students at my house, but this? This is a little excessive, I think! But it's probably good for me, since when I don't have to go out, I stagnate like a pile of tearful lawnmower clippings and lie around on the couch all day watching Netflix, and that doesn't exactly go far in making me into a useful member of society. Ugh. It's all so unpleasant though. How am I ever going to be employed later in life?
Oh yeah, I never wrote about this, but the knowledge of it is sitting in my stomach radiating dread throughout my entire being, so I might as well, and see if I can expunge the horror. So, all summer, my mom and my therapists have been trying to get me to go to a mental hospital, and they have finally succeeded, so on Wednesday, I have to go. Wait, that's a bit overdramatic. It's only outpatient after all, and I get weekends off. But it's still a mental hospital, and I really don't want to do this. What if they try to sell me drugs? What if they use me as a drug mule? What if they shank me? All I know about these things is that if I get out intact, I can write a trashy YA novel about it. I guess that's some motivation, but then again, what if my work doesn't sell? No, there's nothing good about this situation. Well, except for the getting better part. But to be honest here, I'm not sure that this will actually help me get better. It's meant to address the eating disorder, not the other stuff, and that's the one that I feel like I could tackle on my own. (Although then again I haven't been very successful in doing that, so maybe it is good) Basically, I'm really scared, and I don't think it will do any good, and what if it makes my problems worse? When I took health class as a freshman in high school, it made my eating disorder more pronounced, and it took me like a year to get over it (no thanks to any professionals, may I add). And now I'm much worse off than I was then, so I have more to lose, and I might actually end up hospitalized or something if this all goes off the road. Ugh, I feel so weird talking about this stuff. I absolutely don't want to have this problem (not that I want to have my other ones either, but at least I'm not as ashamed of those). I can't even call it by its proper name, I mean an eating disorder is bad enough, but if I were to go around proclaiming that I'd been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, well that would just be insufferable wouldn't it? Even typing that made me cringe. Maybe I really should get me to a clinic. But what if it turns out like Orange is the New Black? I'm not sure I'm emotionally prepared to be a Piper Chapman! This is going to be a wreck, I know it.
I composed a letter to my department chairs at OSU tonight to tell them that I won't be back because of health reasons, and I'll be attending a university closer to home. Which is true. It's just that it's my mental health instead of physical. But that's just as important, and I think undervalued in this society of ours. But it's pretty sad, I mean I spent a whole year there, and it was an important time in my life (even though it was so difficult), and it's hard to just say goodbye to it like that. And things were just starting to look up too; I'd made some friends (well, like three, but you know), I'd just declared my second major, and I'd finally figured out that the business school was, in fact, part of the university. It just goes along with the reigning principle of my life that as soon as things get good, I leave. (Which, by the way, isn't something that I want to do, it just happens) I'm sure that as soon as I start wanting to live, I'll expire of a heart attack or something. Anyway, it seems that I'm well and truly embarked upon this new course in life, and that's kind of cool or something.
It's 2:39, and I'm done with my tea concoction, so I should probably go to bed. I'm actually sort of sleepy, so it must have worked. This is a scientific breakthrough. Isn't chemistry wonderful? Maybe tonight I will have happy dreams about covalent bonds and things. Okay, I really should get going, so goodnight, and I hope you all have a happier night than I did.

Loveliness

I got an iPhone! It's so pretty and shiny and lovely, and I love it like my newborn child (or at least I imagine if I had a newborn child my love for it would be comparable). Its name is Amaryllis (really it should be Daisy Bell like of my laptop because of Alexander Graham Bell, but my two children must have different names of course). Because I'm a total cheapskate, I bought it used off Amazon, and it's a 4, but that fits my Luddite personality, so I'm very okay with that. Now I can wander around pretending to be a rich person with a social life. It'll be great.
No really though. I'm super super excited.
I finished my chem class today! We had our final, and it was extremely easy, so I'm optimistic as to the outcome of the class. Although I do have to overcome that one 88% on the third test. But still. Oh yeah, I never mentioned that! So I was complaining before because I thought I'd gotten a B on one of the tests, but the person who graded it messed it up, and I actually got an A. So that was a bit counterproductive for me to do all that bellyaching, now wasn't it? Ain't gonna blame me tho; it was a B. Can't do nothin with that.
Now I have some stern advice for the world at large. When you're talking to a person with whom you have the possibility of romantic affiliation, you should not assume that their interest in you is contingent upon emotionless illicit encounters, because, sad to say, it probably is not. No, this person will act like the modern day equivalent of Sir Galahad at all times that he is in contact with you, and even when you are alone in an empty house together, he will conduct himself with such honor and purity that you will stand aghast in wonder. Then, late to the races as you are, you will be thrown off by his baffling chivalrousness and do sundry things to rectify your mistake, including, but not limited to, quoting Latin phrases at him, debating with him about the economy, and telling him your unsavory mental history. And though it seems inscrutable, none of these measures will work, and he will accept you as you are, and you will be left wondering what is happening in the world and what is wrong with the human race in general. This is where I am now, and I'll be durned if I know a dingity dang thing to do about it. If the world at large had any stern advice for me, I would rejoice to hear it.
It's rather late at the moment, but I don't feel at all tired. Still, I suppose I should go to bed, that being the right thing to do and all. I'll just wait until the music comes to a proper close, and then I'll go. After all, it wouldn't do to end on an unfinished note.
I'm not sure if I wrote about this already, but I'll write it anyway. So I got into the honors program at UCLA, and I'm excited, because that's really hard to do for transfer students, so I'm a little proud of myself right here. Mind you, I'm not sure what privileges my new position grants me, but I'm pretty sure extra library time is part of the package, and that by itself is worth it. Also, I get to take honors classes, and that's all anyone could ask of life. Not gonna lie, I'm going to be pretty sad to say goodbye to Ohio State, especially since I only recently declared my second major there, but really, it's UCLA, what are you going to do? I've wanted to go there for years. And who knows, maybe I can have another major anyway (even though I'll technically be a junior there, so I don't think I can declare one, but academia is a mysterious and beautiful thing and maybe things will work out). Even if I can't, though, I can still take more classes, since it's on the quarter system, so I'm sure I could take some English classes just for fun (and for the GPA boost) (not that I need it probably). So that's that. UCLA is splendid, and my future is rapidly becoming the present.
That sounded like I was trying to be poetic, and I really wasn't, so I sincerely apologize for that. It did sound nice though, didn't it?
Okay, I should probably go to bed now, so I'll bestir my weary bones and go. I hope I'm not awakened  unduly early tomorrow! Goodnight!

I should be studying or doing homework or something, but instead I'm drinking and trying to think of a reason why I should stay alive until tomorrow. It's harder than you might think. How can I possibly go to class tomorrow and joke around with the boys like nothing's wrong? And it's a lab day too, how am I supposed to get through that normally? I don't think it occurred to me before, but it's so so hard to keep up the pretense of being normal. Does everyone have to work at it so much, I wonder? I don't want to anymore. I'm sick of everything. But I have to. If I fake it 'til I make it, surely I'll make it sometime. Right?
At the moment, I really couldn't care less whether I live or die, and actually, if someone came bursting in through the door telling me that I was an enemy of the state and was now to be executed for treason against the government, I would be in their black van before they even finished pronouncing the sentence. What is there to live for? For me, I mean. I realize that there's so much beauty and goodness in the world that I can't see, and in the abstract, there are infinite reasons for someone to live, but none of that touches me at all. Nothing good will ever happen to me; I'll always be an outlier. I used to have hope, or at least I was beginning to, I think, but I don't know where it went– it's all gone. How can I ever be a functional person if the second I start to heal, I just dip back into fog again? I think I really need help, but I can't even help myself. Maybe I was born to die early (but it wouldn't really be early though, would it, because it would be my time to go). But what would I have accomplished? Everyone has a purpose, don't they? Maybe I don't. That's why I shouldn't be here; I was a mistake, the only person born without a purpose. Oh no, I don't like that. It seems so horribly reductionistic– if you don't have a purpose (dare I say it, a function), you shouldn't be alive. No, I can't believe in that. There's sanctity in all human life. But what about mine, then? According to my own principles, it would be completely tragic and wrong to take my life, but I see so many more pros than cons. I'm such a hypocrite! I preach a good game, but when it comes down to it, I play out something completely different. It's reprehensible, really, and it's horrendous logic too, and, you guessed it, it makes me hate myself even more. But I don't know how to set myself straight. I'm just lost, and I don't have any idea what to do to fix things.
Tomorrow is going to suck big time, but sadly, it's not that different from any other day. Every day is a struggle for me, and I think I'm losing. Maybe I really do need to be on medication. But no, I don't want to go down that path. Surely I can do this by myself. People did in the past. Although many of them killed themselves, now that I think of it. But still. I have an appointment with the psychiatrist on Friday, I guess I'll see what she says. Honestly, I sort of hope I'm imagining this all though, like for some reason I wanted to be ~special so I invented mental problems for myself, and some professional person can tell me the right thing, and I'll snap out of it. Wouldn't that be nice? Maybe it will happen. I guess I'll find out.

Oh no

So I have a bit of a problem, and I don't really know how to resolve it. It's not a problem in the traditional sense (though given my own personal traditions, it actually is), but a problem it is nonetheless. You see, I seem to have acquired a new man, and though it may seem callous and cold, the truth is I don't really want him. I'm still nearly debilitated by the end of my last relationship, and I'm not in any hurry to enter another one. Besides, I'm certifiably mentally ill; how good a girlfriend could I logically be at this point? But my good buddy doesn't know this, and is anxious to talk to me and hang out with me as much as possible. As he's a nice and gregarious fellow, I don't really mind this, but I don't want to lead him on in any way, so I'm not sure what to do. At the moment, he thinks that we're dating, which I suppose technically we are, since we've been on two dates now, and if it stays like this, it's probably fine, but what if he wants a relationship? And now that I think of it, does he think relationships are different from dating? Oh dear. How do I get out of this one? In all honesty, I shouldn't have let it get this far, but I thought for sure he would be the type of guy who would keep things on the downlow, all casual-like, I mean he uses the word "thottie" unironically for goodness' sake, but as I skyped him one night, I learned that he has only had four girlfriends in his life, and doesn't like anything but serious relationships. Then he informed me that he has told his parents all about me, and they love me already (I'm not sure why they should, but that's another question for another day), and wanted to know (several times) what my family thought of him. It was then that the light began to break and I realized what a mistake I'd made. Tell me, why is it that people love to perpetrate the stereotype of all men being coldhearted, commitment-phobic, side-chick lovin' jerks? In my experience, all of them seem to be at least 75% more touchy-feely than I am. Granted, I'm definitely an outlier (in the words of my dear friend Jade, I am "a complete ice princess"), but I can't be the only girl who acts more stereotypically masculine than her man. Seriously, I would be fine with some low-key chilling, but all these dudes want to get romantic on me, all "oh you should meet my parents and go to dinner with me and I will compose a sonnet on the breath from your lungs like a sunrise shining above the morning star" and like no, okay, calm down there. We cool, man, we cool. Maybe they think that's what I will like? I'm not sure how to disabuse them of that notion, since I've tried telling them, and that doesn't work. I guess men are just super romantic, and that's all there is to it.
So I just got off Skype with the bae, and bless my soul, it's bad, man. He invited me on his family trip to Vegas (hasn't this been done before?) and talked for a good long while about all the things we would do together in the future. And yeah, it's sweet, and it helps me forget that I want to die, but come on, okay, I can't let this go on. He's just so incredibly nice and it makes things so hard! But I know what I have to do. Selfishly, I'm going to wait until chemistry is over for the summer so things won't be awkward (it's only like two more weeks), but after that, he's gotta go. Really, it's for him that I'm doing this. If I didn't care about him at all, I'd just let things progress for my own benefit and screw the consequence. But I genuinely like him (just not like that), so I can't let him be so stupid as to be in a relationship with me. I'll just tell him about my mental health issues, and that should be enough to scare him away. For some misbegotten reason, he thinks I'm a perfectly normal, highly-functioning human being, and he freely complained today about some of his friends being "antisocial" or "emo." Oh, honey, you ain't seen nothin yet. Just you wait two weeks (if I can preserve my facade of normalcy for that long); you got a big ole storm comin. But okay, I'm getting cold feet now. He's such a nice person, and a feminist, and a proponent of human rights and all, what if he accepts me for what I am? Dearie me. Nah, that's not going to happen. No one would want to accept me, like come on. Okay, we good. I'll just let him have it, and this problem will solve itself. In the meantime, I'm not sure what to do though. Everything I do is just leading him on, even unintentionally, but I don't want to make the rest of my chem class terrible! It's hard enough to get out of bed anyway. Besides, I've been there and done that with the everyone-thinks-I'm-the-harlot-of-Babylon routine, and all things considered, I'd rather not go through that again. It could provide many adverse effects for me at this stage of the game! (I bring this up because once I've rejected him, he will undoubtedly go around telling everyone horror stories about me, as people are wont to do) And okay, if I'm being completely honest, it really is comforting to get some sweet lovin' from someone (not physically speaking, although I guess I have to prepare for that possibility as well), even if I don't necessarily feel as he does. Which is horrible, I know, and I can't let things go on this way of course, but I do have to admit the fact. But yeah, this is a bit of a conundrum. I wonder what will happen. Maybe I will fall deeply in love with him after all. Somehow I doubt that, but I should be prepared for every eventuality. However, it's much more likely that this will end messily, and one or both of us will be hurt and angry. Why does this always happen to me? Or rather, why do I always do this? Because there's no way that I'm not the bad guy here. I messed up, and now someone else is going to pay the price, no matter what I do. If I were Catholic, I would go to confession, but as it is, I'll just sit and stew in my own guilt for awhile. How delightful. More on this later, maybe! I need to go to bed. Goodnight!

Ugh

I have class tomorrow morning at 7:30, and I need to go to bed, but I feel absolutely ill, and there's no way I can get to sleep anyway, so I might as well stay up for a little bit. This is seriously the worst. How do people even live, I have no idea, because I honestly can't remember the last time I was happy, and haven't had a plan (or one, or two) for dying, if I ever hit the point where I couldn't take it anymore. Living, just plain, simple living, is such a chore for me, even just existing is such a struggle. And it's ridiculous, because I'm so low that even the tiniest little things push me into a place where I can't reasonably function, which is so embarrassing and so bad, but I can't seem to do anything about it. We had our second test in chemistry today, and I messed up really badly and got an 85%, which doesn't seem like too much of a catastrophe, because I have like 100% in everything else, but it's really bothering me right now. It's just a B, but I feel like I should give up now, which is ridiculous, and I know it's ridiculous, but I can't stop. This happens every time I don't get an A on something; it's happened ever since the start of last semester, and it's the worst thing ever. Being a perfectionist is one thing, but this is just unhealthy. However, I can't fix my way of thinking, so it's likely to go on until I'm out of grad school. Used to be, I could accept failure a lot better than this. In high school, I was sort of persnickety, but I wouldn't lose sleep over a C on an assignment or two. Nowadays, even an A- will bother me for days on end. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. While I was walking to the cafe from work this afternoon, I took a wrong turn, and that's something I do practically every day, so I should be used to it, but it legitimately rattled me today. Do you see what I mean? It's like, if I do anything that's not perfectly correct, it makes everything atrocious. Right now, I'm feeling disgusting and fat because I ate half a pear in the afternoon, and I always promise myself that I'm not going to eat if I can help it (I know how unhealthy that is, don't even start). Tell me, how am I supposed to go on like this? Everything is way more difficult than it should be– getting out of bed, going to class or to work, talking to people– most days, even the minimum is more than I can do. If I manage to be a good student in class and a good intern at work, you can be sure I'll be useless later. And I feel so bad, because it's horrible to treat people with less kindness just because of what I'm feeling, but it's so incredibly hard to maintain a sweet demeanor when all I want to do is die. I'm almost always irritated now, and I do hide it most of the time, but it makes me feel like a really bad person, and of course that doesn't help anything. Basically, everything is terrible.
I really don't want to go to class tomorrow. How am I supposed to face the world when I'm such a failure? Logically, I know that avoiding things because they're hard is just going to make everything worse, but at this point, I could take this life or leave it, and logic doesn't have as much effect on me as it should, or as it used to. There's such a disconnect between my head and my emotions now, and I hate it. But seriously though, what do I have to look forward to tomorrow? There's absolutely nothing, and that's a pretty depressing feeling, let me tell you. We have CKC, which I dread with every fiber of my being, and I have lab, and before that, I have to sit through the vagaries of lecture, which would be difficult for a stronger person than me, and basically, ugh. When do things get better? They're supposed to, aren't they? Everyone says they do. But I feel like that's a lie that they all tell themselves so they can keep going. Really, where could it possibly go from here? No matter how hard I try, I can't see any way that life can be more bearable. I think I need help, and that's all there is to it. Or maybe not. Maybe I should be able to do this all by myself. I guess I should. That's the only way I can really fix things anyway. Although, again, I don't believe that I actually can fix things, so I don't know what's going to happen. But whatever it is, I can be sure of one thing– it's going to suck.

A nice hypothetical situation

I often wonder what my life would be like if fear weren't a constant ingredient in it. What would it be like to walk in public without a qualm, to make decisions without agonizing about them beforehand for days (and to rest easily once they were made), to smile at strangers in public without a second thought, to be able to to acquiesce to plans without panicking? Honestly, I have no idea what that would be like, because I haven't lived that way in a very long time. But I think about it a lot, and I like to imagine a world where the only sources of anxiety are normal ones, and I don't spend entire nights lying awake consumed with a sense of nameless dread.
I think life would be easier in that world. I'm not saying it would be perfect by any stretch of the imagination; I'm sure there would be days when I couldn't get out of bed, and days when even staying alive is a struggle. But they would be fewer, I think. Yes, I would be consumed by an impenetrable sense of malaise most of the time, and no, I wouldn't be happy at all, but at least I could go out with my friends without constantly worrying that they secretly hate me, and I would be able to make plans with people, and not have to wait for them to contact me. I could meet people, and talk to them, and get to know them, and I could compliment them on their aesthetically pleasing wardrobes without crumbling into a ball of nerves and flushed cheeks. Maybe I could even be the one to talk to people first and invite them to get coffee with me instead of the other way around. I wouldn't constantly make excuses– I have to study for syntax, you know how it is; Sorry I can't today, I'm not feeling well; Maybe next time, I have to take care of a few things today– and people would always want to include me in their gatherings because I would show up, and be confident enough to show up on time. I would make jokes at parties, and be able to eat and drink in front of people. I wouldn't pretend to text when I was alone in public, and I wouldn't be afraid to ask for directions if I was lost (which, let's face it, would still be pretty often), and I would be able to walk in front of a group of people without physically shaking (which, now that I think of it, probably looks fairly strange). I wouldn't feel sick all the time, and I could probably wear different clothes, now that I think of it, because my wardrobe is severely limited by the ironclad rules I keep in my head. The more I think of it, the more it seems that the world would be a veritable cavalcade of wonder. No more anxiety attacks, no more crying in the middle of the night, no more hours of internal debate and invective. Maybe I could sleep at a reasonable hour for once! Wouldn't it be strange to go to bed at 12:30 and know that sleep was imminent?
Now that I'm good and immersed in this alternate universe, it's becoming more and more obvious that my entire life is ruled by fear. I mean really, it's gotten to the point that even when I'm by myself, I'm consumed with worry lest I do something *ridiculous* (and the fact that this in itself is ridiculous really doesn't help matters at all). It's gotten so that I need to slip into a persona in order to do anything at all, and I really don't know if that's healthy. Then again, if you want to get existential about it, maybe I am just an amalgamation of all my personas, and everything I do, I do on my own. Which is cheery, I suppose, if you're into the baseball-coach-you-did-it-on-your-own-champ sort of mentality. But I don't know what to think anymore, and that, of course, gives me yet another reason to be consumed by anxieties. So none of that is really helpful. Naturally, this means that I have to retreat and stop thinking so deeply about all this, and focus on what I was originally trying to look at, namely the way things would be if anxiety didn't run the show.
So. I would have a much better social life, of this I'm sure. And I would be able to function much more normally in everyday life. Maybe I wouldn't spend hours analyzing every single thing I did, which would probably save a substantial amount of time, and I would be able to do things like check my email and go to important meetings without panicking about it, which would most likely enhance the likelihood of my employment in the future. All in all, I would be able to live a normal, satisfactory, life, and even though I would never feel happy, at least I wouldn't always feel afraid. And there's something to be said for that.

hi

Do you know what's fun and funky fresh and delightful in the extreme? I'll tell you what's fun and funky fresh and delightful in the extreme. 

I feel absolutely sick to my stomach with anxiety, and it's pretty bad, I must say. I can hardly breathe, and I'm all hot (not in a good way), and my chest hurts, and I want to die (although that's nothing new). I keep having to go back and fix typos, because my fingers won't behave and type steadily. But I'm surrounded by my family here, so I can't show any symptoms, and I have to act all normal. All I can do is listen to loud music and try to calm down without anyone noticing there was anything wrong in the first place. If I keep busy, or look like I am, hopefully no one will talk to me, and I can work on fixing this. Why does this have to happen all the time? It seems like I'm getting worse and worse at managing these attacks, or maybe they're getting worse, or both. And I never know what will set them off either, or when they will occur, and I hate it. Well, I hate everything. But this is more hateful than most things are.

Oh yeah, okay, so I have some news about me, and it's very interesting. About a week ago, I went to see a psychiatrist, and she diagnosed me with actual depression and anxiety, as well as a social phobia, so apparently I really do have real problems after all. Isn't that interesting? I wasn't making all this up after all, it seems. Now I'm going to therapy, although the psychiatrist wasn't entirely pleased with that, because she wanted to put me on medications, and I refused (I mean my dad was angry enough that I was going to seek mental help at all; I wouldn't want him to disown me or anything). Failing that, she wanted me to go to a mental hospital and do intensive therapy, but I'm not really thrilled with that idea, because it would be six hours a day, and it would be with a bunch of other people, all of whom would probably beat me up for not having real enough issues. Plus, I'm not really sure I need it (although my mom seems to be intrigued). But I think I need something, because right now, I'm barely functioning. However, that might be normal, and everyone is dealing with the same thing I am, and I'm just weak. That could be. Or maybe not. I thought that everyone regularly considers suicide, and thinks out plans and stuff, but apparently that's not a thing, so maybe none of the other stuff is typical either. I don't know. But I'm really ashamed of myself anyway. And it's not like I can talk about this stuff with anyone either, like come on. 

"Why can't you hang out?" "Oh, you know, the very thought of seeing people makes me feel physically ill, no offense!" "Want to come shopping today?" "Well, I would love to, but I struggled for an hour to get out of bed this morning, and even greeting my family was almost more than I could manage, so I'll have to take a rain check this time, so sorry!" 

Yeah, no. That wouldn't go over. Am I being dishonest by pretending to be okay when I'm really not? Maybe. But it's the lesser of two evils in this case, I think. And it's not like people aren't used to me never doing things. I've never been good at accepting invitations for things, whether because of anxiety (which I realize now I've always had, albeit much more mildly), or genuine busy-ness, so it shouldn't seem weird now if I disappear off the face of the earth for awhile. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I really do like most people, and my inability to interact with them has absolutely nothing to do with them and their complete loveliness. I want to talk to them or hang out with them, I really do, but I just can't, and I feel guilty about it, since I hope they don't think I don't like them or anything. And I'm really lonely, I think, but I'm too sick to do anything about it. Now that I write about it, I realize how totally pathetic I am. I'm pretty contemptible, aren't I? Yeah, I'm the worst.

Oh dear, I'm really dreading tomorrow. I hate Sundays, because I have to teach, and teaching makes me want to kill myself (even more than usual). It's the only way I can make money, so I have to do it, but it causes me such misery that sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. I'm being whiny I know; it's a rare thing to be gainfully employed at my age, and it's one day of work per week in exchange for a year's supply of money for books and food, so I really do have it pretty good. But that knowledge doesn't make me like it. Anyway, that's not the only reason I'm dreading tomorrow. Allie's mom is having a party, and she very kindly invited me and Sonia, and Mom heard about it, and now she's making me go. It's not that I don't appreciate the invitation, but I would be perfectly fine with declining it and waiting for another day. But the last time I went out anywhere for fun (or "fun") was like two or three weeks ago, and I guess that's not healthy, so now I have to go party. #sundayfunday #turnup #notreallytho

Ugh.

I should probably go to bed soon, but I don't want to. I'm just going to lie awake having an existential crisis anyway. Sometimes I wish I were a robot so I could just turn my brain off when I needed to rest. Would it be bad to watch some TV shows now? Yeah, probably. I guess I'll try to sleep. Who knows, maybe I'll succeed. Okay, goodnight!

Obligatory May text post

I'm back home now, and you'd think I would feel better, but really, I don't at all. I don't even know what's wrong with me, I mean sure I'm in the throes of romantic despair, that's de rigeur, but besides that, I think something's wrong with me, I really do. I've been feeling it for awhile now, and yeah, it was pretty bad when I was at school too, but now I feel literally mentally ill. It's like being sick– I mean, it is being sick– but it's not physical. Although I guess it manifests itself physically too, or I think it does. But I don't know. I've can't remember ever feeling so bad before. On a good day, I don't feel anything at all, and it's like I'm sort of vaguely making my way through a fog, but on a bad day, it's all I can do to speak to my family, or a least listen when they speak to me. I'm trying to make it through one day at a time, but that's difficult, because I don't even want to do that. And I know I should be trying to make myself better, and I am trying, or at least I think I am, but nothing's working, and I want to feel okay again, or even just feel again, but I can't, I really can't, and I don't know what to do. But it's not like I have any real problems. I don't have the right to complain, really. I'm just that gross. Of course I realize that illnesses like depression and anxiety are just that, illnesses, and can affect absolutely anyone, regardless of problems real or imagined, and can't be fixed just by "trying harder," but here's the thing, I don't think I have either of those disorders. I'm convinced that this is all just a made-up phenomenon in my head, and if I could only get over my whiny pathetic self, I would be just fine. But why? Why do I want to be sick? I hate living in fear, and I hate living in general, and neither of those seem like things that would be in the least appealing. I don't understand in the least. All I know is that it just comes down to me not being good enough again. Just like everything else. If you look at my life right now, and don't look at it too hard, it looks pretty good. I'm about to transfer to UCLA (I've dreamt of going there since like seventh grade), I got a 3.8 for my final GPA (which I still hate myself for, but it's not terrible, especially since all I could think about this semester was dying), I have an internship this summer specializing in things I have experience with, I'm making money from my violin students, I have the world's longest summer vacation and plenty of free time to do whatever I want, my friends miraculously still seem to like me, and doesn't everything seem peachy? But I can't be happy about any of it no matter how hard I try. Then I feel guilty, but that doesn't help anything, so I feel worse, and then we're off to the races again. I feel guilty for existing, basically. I'm sure my family doesn't really want me here. I mean, I try to help as much as I can, whether by cleaning people's messes or just being as pleasant as possible all the time, but in the end, I know I'm just a giant burden, and no matter how much I try to make everyone's lives pleasant, it will never make up for the strain of my existence upon the world. Is this me not seeing things clearly as a symptom of whatever's wrong with me, or is it real? I don't know. But it feels real enough to me that I can't get over it. However, even though I think it would be the best option if I died, I can't, because of the embarrassment it would cause my poor family trying to explain it. It's just not socially acceptable to be an upstanding member of society and have a relative who killed herself, you know? And besides, I'm afraid. Isn't that stupid? I'm not even afraid of what comes after death, no, come what may, I'll face it, because I'm sure after I die, my irrational fears of everything will disappear, but I'm so afraid of the pain. Yeah, I'm afraid of pain, me with my tapestry of self-inflicted scars that are only now just beginning to heal. Isn't it ridiculous? And what if whatever I did didn't work, and I was left damaged the rest of my life? And what if I lost my dignity? There are so many things I'm afraid of, and they all seem so stupid. It convinces me more than anything that my so-called "illness" must be fake. Just like me! I really don't know what to do anymore. This can't be any way to live.

I can't deal with this

We break up: "It's not permanent!" he said. "It's only until you come back!" he said. "I don't want to make you suffer through my depression!" he said. "I'm going to love you forever!" he said.


Two weeks later, he's got a new girl lined up.


Forever, he said.

A waiting game, truly

Okay so this post was from two weeks ago, but I forgot about it, and as I'm here in the airport with nothing to do, I might as well while away a few errant seconds and publish it.
My new roommate is moving in today, apparently, and I have no idea when she's going to do so. I cleaned up the room, and then I high tailed it to Barnes and Noble so I could hide. Then it started getting dark, so I left, because I don't like being out on High street by myself after dark, especially on a weekend. So now I'm at the Union, which is kitty-corner to my dorm, and I'm ready to spend all night here if I have to. Or as long as I can anyway, because I didn't bring my laptop charger, and my battery is only at 62% now. I wish I'd brought my lip balm, though, because I can't live comfortable without it. There's some kind of event going on tonight, so I'm seeing all these fancy sophisticates walking around in evening gowns and suits (though not both at once), and I have the uncomfortable feeling that I'm an unwelcome interloper into a life that is much more important than mine. Of course, that feeling is nothing new to me at this juncture in life.

When should I get food? The place in here closes at 8:00 on weekends (which is incredibly inconvenient), and it's 6:30 now, so maybe I can hold off for a little bit until it's close to closing, and then I can buy something that's not too embarrassing to eat, and then I can come back up here where it's pretty isolated (except for the dignitaries, whom I hope will take no notice of me) and eat it. Is this going to be my life now? Will I have to live here in the Union for the rest of the semester, watched by the friendly eyes of the Ohio elite? I don't know what to do, upon my word of honor I don't. I feel like Heathcliff, and that's not at all a nice feeling to have. Never will I get to live in the main house (or residence hall, in this case), or be accepted as a decent member of society, or even be a decent member of society, because my Byronic brooding precludes me from the joys of normal life. Oh, woe is me! Life is truly a vale of tears, and that's all there is to it.

Oh wonderful, two gentlemen have come over, and are now sitting within two feet of me. They're clad in identical tasteless black hoodies, ugly black shoes, and hideous red-and-white Ohio ski caps, and they're talking in identical dialects, which rest somewhere between "inebriated frat boy" and "flunking stoner" (both of which they probably are). Maybe they're part of a cult. I hope they don't try to initiate me; I really wouldn't want to be caught dead in those hideous excuses for footwear. Oh no, one of them talked to me. Disgusting. He wanted to know where the computers were in here. I didn't even know there were computers in here. "There's gotta be," drawls my new compatriot, "I mean, it's so big!" I'm tempted to inquire about the efficacy of navigating such a complex structure whilst floating on the effects of the good herb, but instead, I smile politely and go back to my computer, cold-hearted and completely unhelpful. My harsh vibes must have alarmed the suave souls, because after awhile, they swagged off together, talking enthusiastically, albeit very slowly, about Chipotle. Now I'm alone again, which is how things should be, but I really have to go to the bathroom, and I don't know what to do with my laptop. Should I get someone to watch it for me? I don't trust these people. Someone will probably sell it on the black market while I'm gone and use the profit to buy alcohol. And I don't want to contribute to the already-rampant alcoholism on this campus, so I think it's best for me to hold off on that. I should get food soon too. Do you think it would look goofy for me to leave and then come back? Probably not, right? I mean, everyone needs to eat. And it's not like anyone's really paying attention to me. Okay, let's do this! Maybe I can find some trustworthy soul downstairs as well.
I have some very good news, incidentally. I'm going home for spring break! I'm extremely excited, like y'all don't even know. How could anyone have such good fortune as this? Life is quite beautiful at the moment, and none can tell me otherwise.
I really should go meet up with my new roommate, though.
Ew.

Now is the winter of my discontent

Because it's winter, and I'm discontented, wow, how totally clever am I?
I know I said no more grossness, but I'm going to be gross, and I don't really care. But you might, so I would advise you to keep your caution about you at this point.
Yesterday, the housing office, in their infinite wisdom, decided that I'd been getting a free pass for long enough, and assigned me a new roommate to take Melissa's place. Her name is Georgia, and she's moving in sometime this week. I know it shouldn't be such a big deal, and I'm totally over-reacting, but I honestly thought of jumping in front of a bus just so I wouldn't have to deal with this. It's bad enough to have to share a space in general, but on those days when human contact feels like acid (which, sadly, are becoming more and more common), it's next door to unbearable. Even Melissa, who shares my introversion, was sometimes almost more than I could take, so how am I going to manage with a complete (and seemingly chatty) stranger? I wish I could be normal. Why can't I be normal? It seems to me that every other person on this earth is better with people than I am. Sure, you can cite the awkward rejects of society who congregate on tumblr, but they all have internet friends, don't they (and probably several very close friends in their general vicinity, because every awkward person I've ever met had a rather sizable awkward IRL clique), and they think nothing of contacting random people all across the internet and befriending them. I can't even do that. It's gotten so that I do a mental double take every time I hear myself having a conversation with someone, because it's that infrequent. Really, I'm starting to think that I wasn't built for real life. I should be locked in a library somewhere, alone with my literature and syntax, not bothering anyone, and not trying to fake my way through a life for which I wasn't made. Wouldn't that be better? But it's anachronistic to be a recluse now. Everyone is meant to interact with other people, perfectly, without any anxiety or trouble, and since I can't seem to do that, perhaps I shouldn't be alive. Aristotle said that without friends, no one would choose to live, even if he had everything else (I paraphrase), and if we can't trust one of the greatest thinkers in the world, I don't know to whom we're going to turn. I don't have anyone who cares about me, not really, so why am I here? Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. But let's be real here– who would even notice if I spontaneously combusted one day? My family would, after awhile, and yes, they'd be sad, but in the end, I think they'd be better off without me. I'm the requisite failure; I've always been so, and I'm really damn expensive too. So even if they don't see it, I know it would advantage them to be rid of me. Austin would notice, I suppose, though how he'd get wind of my death, I have no idea. But I think he'd be better off without me too. And my friends? I never see any of them in real life (unless you want to count Opera Boy and Orchestra Boy and Melissa) (though I don't really see any of them either), so I'm sure it would just be easy-come-easy-go on that front. There's no one who would be impacted by my death, no one at all, and if that's not a disheartening thought, I don't know what is. I was thinking about buying a little potted plant, so I could have an excuse to stay alive for someone's (something's?) sake, but I don't think the dorm allows them, and besides, I would have no way of taking it home, so it would die during the summer, and I would have done more harm than good in the world. Honestly, how pathetic is that? You can talk all you want about ripple effects, but while everyone else is out splashing about in the pond, I'm lying on the bank in the fetal position trying to get up the energy to eat. I don't even know if one could count what I'm doing as living. Actually, no, I don't think one can. I'm just watching life go past, and I don't even know why. I'm supposed to be smart; why can't I figure out how to function like a normal individual? I don't think I'm ever going to amount to anything, ever. I have my ambitions, of course, those haven't changed, but let's be real here, I'll never achieve them. Tell me, what kind of sophisticate starves herself because she's too afraid to go get food in public, and what kind of lawyer wastes hours curled up in a ball, shaking and crying and wishing for death, and what kind of Supreme Court justice accepts lower grades than she should because she feels physically incapable of speaking up? It's so unrealistic of me to dream of these things. It will be a miracle if I get any job at all, ever. What's the matter with me, anyway? My life is fine, albeit lonely, and I haven't any of the severe troubles that so many other people do. All things being equal, I don't deserve to feel this way. But I do, sad and pathetic creature that I am, which makes me ashamed of myself, which makes me feel even worse, and then the cycle just perpetuates in a never-ending spiral of misery and guilt. Oh, what wouldn't I give to be normal! It must be so wonderful to walk around carefree all the time, without any trace of fear. Ordering food? No problem! Meeting new people? Delightful! Shouting out the answer in class, even though you're not completely sure it's the right one? No question about it! Life must be so beautifully simple and clean. There are no abstract mental rules to follow, no complicated patterns to remember, and no insurmountable obstacles anywhere. I can't imagine living without constantly feeling ashamed or afraid (or both), but some people do, and I think they must be the luckiest people in the world. The closest I ever get to that is during my classes, and that's pretty sad, I know. I'm pretty sad. I will never be anything, not to me, not to anyone, and not to the world. Which makes me wonder why I'm here. Isn't it sophomoric to have an existential crisis? But I really do wonder about my purpose in life often. Could it be that I don't have one? I believe everyone does– or at least I think I do– but it would be more than believable for me to be the only one who doesn't. It's always been that way, after all. So, that leads us back to the old familiar query: Shouldn't I just die? No, don't answer that. I think I know. But I'm selfish and disgusting, and I never did anything right, and I think I know that I'm not going to go gentle into that good night. Isn't that pathetic, just talking and never doing? I'm as fake as they come. Contemn me all you want, though, and it will be to no avail; no one's opinion of me could ever be worse than my own. However, that's the last I'm going to show that opinion for awhile. I'm no exhibitionist, and I'm still hoping that if I pretend everything's fine, it will be. And it will be. You'll see.

Interim

I'm sitting in the political science department, waiting for my 3:00 class (the phonology-statistics-computer programming mashup), since it's in the basement, for whatever reason, and I have about an hour to spend contemplating the mysteries of life here. I usually don't bring Daisy Bell to class with me, but we had to analyze an article in English, and I was too lazy and poor to print out all twelve pages, so here I am. The article in question was a singularly annoying one, to be honest. It was filled with the most irritating social-democrat rhetoric, and tarred neoconservatives, libertarians, and Rush Limbaugh with the same defamatory brush. Now, I don't deny that there are many problematic aspects to Richard Matheson's writing, but none of them are the fault of today's right-wing politicians, no matter what social justice English majors might say. But no matter how incensed this shortsighted invective made me, there was nothing I could do to protest its promulgation, because I still can't make myself talk in class. I could have a Hermann Melville-style essay written up in my head, the thesis of which is right on the tip of my tongue, but it wouldn't matter. It's such a frustrating phenomenon, because I've lost count of the times that I've been the only one who knows what's going on, but I haven't said anything, and our poor professor has to spell it all out. How can I get over this? I don't even know what's wrong with me; I haven't had any traumatic experiences or anything (that I know of), so I should be able to shout out the answers with confidence and a complete lack of shame. But I can't! This is why my participation is always the lowest part of my grade.
It's gotten warmer recently (oh dear, that was quite an abrupt subject change, I do apologize), so much so that I'm not even wearing a coat today. It's 46.8 ºF, according to Wunderground, which I would have considered to be glacial in California, but now seems friendly and paradisiacal. What has become of me? I could move to Antarctica with impunity now, and make a home with all the penguins. Maybe I should do that. I would probably like them much better than people.
You know, I think my life has gotten progressively duller as the months have passed by. I've never been a very exciting individual, but now I've practically become the human equivalent of Longfellow's rhyme scheme. I wake up; I go to class; I go back to my dorm; I watch Netflix; I sleep. I never go out, and unless someone talks to me first, I won't talk to anyone. Also, I don't even keep myself busy anymore; I spend a significant amount of time each day just sitting on top of Melissa's abandoned filing cabinet, staring out the window, and ruminating. That would all be very well if I were a philosopher or a postmodern artist, but I am neither, and no amount of change in lifestyle will change me so. I really hope I'm not turning into some kind of Tennessee Williams character. That would be so terribly inconvenient. Well, I'll just have to watch out, and if I start collecting little glass animals, I'll know I have a real problem.
Spring break is coming up in three weeks, and I should be excited, but I'm not, because I'm facing a bit of an issue here. You see, the university, erroneously assuming that we all have rich friends who will fly us out to exotic locations for vacation, makes it a policy to close down most of the residence halls on campus, without so much as a by-your-leave. They do keep a few open, and apparently once the time rolls closer, they'll allow us to apply for asylum, but I don't see how three or four buildings, no matter how large, will be able to accommodate the extremely sizable population of international and out-of-state students who will undoubtedly be searching for a place to rest them so from trouble sore. Now, if I had a few extra hundred dollars lying around, I would buy a plane ticket back home with excessive alacrity, but as it is, I have the sneaking suspicion that I'll be trying desperately to eke out a living on the cruel streets of Columbus while my more fortunate classmates enjoy all the comforts that money (and a close hometown) can bring. Or maybe I'll have to live in a broom closet with sixteen other people and no wifi for a week. One never knows. If only it was socially acceptable to hit up one's rich boyfriend for money. Or rich anybody, for that matter. I'm sure there are plenty of wealthy alumni living around here; maybe I could convince one (or two or three) of them to help me financially in the name of education and patriotism. I could even repay them for their services by performing at their social functions, or editing the pieces of rhetoric they send around to all the members of the upper echelon in the state. This is such a good plan! I'll just dig up my shabbiest clothes, put a little dirt on my face, and a few sticks in my hair, and I'll be ready to play my part in saving my future. Goodness me, I am truly an inspiration.