Monday, April 27, 2015

Phonology is killing me

I have a midterm tomorrow, and I'm legitimately worried about it. The worst part? It's in a linguistics class! Phonology is messing me up. I've never had this much trouble with anything linguistics-related before. Could my problem be that I don't like it as much? Don't get me wrong, it's pretty cool, and I do think about a lot of phonological things now and then, but it's not my calling, and I know that for an absolute certainty. I would read my semantics book for fun, even though our professor was so good that we didn't strictly have to, because I love semantics so much, and it was completely fascinating (not to mention well written). But my phonology book, professional though it is, doesn't have the same kind of draw, and I think that's fairly indicative of where my preferences lie. So maybe it's my own fault for not being interested enough. But no, I don't think so. I've done extremely well in classes that I wasn't interested in. Well, okay, that's a tricky thing to say, because I don't think there's been a class ever that I haven't liked at least some. Even my 9th grade biology class had some interesting bits, and life sciences are so not my thing. Learning is learning no matter what, and I'm just happy to take anything I can (oh, except PE class; that's the one exception). There have been classes that I've liked less than phonology (anthropology comes to mind), and I was fine there. And honestly, I think phonetics was a little less interesting than this class, and I did okay in there. I mean yeah, I ended up with an A- in there, but in the grand scheme of things, that's not too bad (and part of it was because I forgot to turn in half of my preliminary report). So I just don't know what I do. And I feel bad, because both the TA and the professor are so good! I feel like I'm letting them down. I want to be better, I really do, and I try, but something just doesn't seem to be clicking. I understand conceptually what everything means, but when I go to do the problem, I hit a wall. Do you know, on the last homework, I could only figure out one phonological rule, and I worked on it for about three hours! I feel so incompetent, and it's so terrible. I'm not supposed to be incompetent at linguistics! Yeah, of course I have struggles, I'm not perfect, and sometimes I'm frustrated or need help or mess up on things. But in the end, I love it, and I'm good at it, and it's my rightful passion. Until now. Why is it that I can't even do these simple problem sets? How am I worse than everyone else in the class? Are they floundering too, or are they all part of some exclusive club of future phonologists who know exactly how to apply rules and order them so they work? I'm really very distressed about this. The persnickety perfectionist part of me says that I should change my major to anthropology, or drop out of school to become a trophy wife, since I obviously can't succeed at anything once the going gets tough. But the stubborn punk-ass part of me wants to keep going and bulldoze my way through the wall until I get it. And then of course the nerd side just wants to learn, no matter what the consequences are (my nerd side is very impractical and myopic). So I'm probably going to keep going. What else is there to do? But oh, I'm so scared! I feel sick, and I'm putting off studying for tomorrow, because I can't concentrate. What can I do? I want to do well, but I don't know how. It's no good having a powerful brain if you can't use it, now is it? I have to do something about this. Of course I'll study and go to office hours tomorrow, but beyond that? Where can I go from here? I need help.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Yes all men

He really just said that I "seem very passive and nonchalant" and he "really likes that quality about me." The more I think about it, the more I want to punch someone. Why are all men like this? "Oouuh not all men!" Yeah fine whatever, can you point me towards this magical island of men where everyone is a decent human being please and thanks. How long am I going to be expected to conform to the wishes of everyone around me? My family's tried it for years; my friends- all genders- have tried it; anyone interested in me romantically has wanted to change at least something about me- when do I get to be a person for a change? You know, I suspected from the start that this guy had a Lolita complex. Let's be real- he's 25 years old, with a steady job and a real adult lifestyle. I'm a college sophomore, and I look like I'm 12. Do you see the problem? 5 years isn't much of a difference at all if both people are at the same stage in life, but the thing is, we're not. And I think he knows that, and wants to take advantage of my supposed naïveté to fulfill whatever perverted fantasies he's harboring. I mean, come on. There are more people with creepy and objectifying Asian fetishes than there are neckbeards in the comment sections of Reddit. In the past few years, who hasn't tried to hit on me with dubious yellow-fever pickup lines? It's clear that Scum Goose wants nothing more than a docile, submissive geisha sex kitten to manipulate, and I appear to fit the bill as well as anyone else. I've seen this coming for awhile, but in my mind, this last correspondence just clinches it. But if he thinks I'm going to put up with being used and objectified in this way, he's wrong. Bye Scum Goose, have fun being scummy. Don't be a predator to anyone else. I'm outtie.

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Easter redux

Happy Easter! This is the one pivotal holiday around which Christianity is based, so of course Adventists celebrate it badly, because it happens on Sunday. Try as valiantly as they might, it just doesn't feel quite right to go around greeting each other with a hearty, "He is risen, sort of!" "He is risen indeed! Or, like, He will be tomorrow!" I suppose it is a grand testament to our faith that we know the resurrection will occur, and we're so certain of it that we can celebrate it prematurely, but there really is nothing like a good ol' Lutheran sunrise service. Which, coincidentally, we went to this morning. It was good, so good in fact, that I would have gone even without the promise of communion wine. Unfortunately, it did in fact start at sunrise, so I can't really remember much about the sermon except that the pastor shouted a lot and told a story that would probably be emotionally moving at a later hour of the day. So this was a pretty nice start to the morning, but after that, we all had to hang around the house all day, and let me tell you, I wish I had managed to finagle some of the extra consecrated wine to bring back with me, because living with my family is not something that one would want to do sober. (That's not too shockingly sacrilegious, right?)
In general, I don't think I really like going home on weekends that much. Sure, if I stayed at school, I'd have to deal with stoners, and vomiting partiers, and very possibly drunk Michael trying to hit on me, but is that really any worse than this bleak house in which I now reside? (that was a reference to the Dickens novel, although to be honest, my house really and truly is fairly bleak) We're all working out our Psychological Issues, which is surely very good for us, but it's not at all pleasant. As the frontrunner, I've already been to nary a physician, and even the odd mental hospital, and am further along in the process than everyone else, so it seems to be my job to bring levity to an otherwise hopeless situation. Which isn't easy. It might seem like a simple thing to do– every Romantic heroine in the Western canon seems to have managed it neatly, after all– but with these people, one has to be Very Wary at all times. Dad is antagonizing Talia– better stave that off– now to cheer her up. But oh no, now Dad has gone on to badger Mom, and a tremendous argument is brewing! Gotta get in the way of that– manage it delicately, mediating between two titans is a tricky business– and now to soothe both their ruffled feelings as they depart on separate sides of the proverbial stage. But no, say it's not so! Dad has built himself up to yell at someone, and he won't be appeased until he's done it. Poor Anselm is the target– better rescue him. And now who's calling on Skype to ask for more money to pay his rent? On and on the cycle goes, until the world is blue in the face, but there's no rest for any of us. Ignoring for the moment the fact that even I am sometimes hard-pressed to make jokes about syntax when my chest is humming with anxiety and my brain feels like it's about to wither up and fall out my nose, let me remind you, gentle reader, that this is not the most difficult part of the business. For some reason, everyone has made me a repository for their various secrets– often the ones concerning other family members– and I have to keep them, but I have to also find a way to use them wisely in order to maintain (or dare I say, improve!) everyone's health and happiness. I don't think ambassador work would be anything after this. Is this how normal people live? Really, I don't know what is or isn't normal anymore (except that this isn't). Tonight promises to be more of the same, only there is an added element, because Apo is coming to dinner. Dad doesn't like her, and Mom is extremely defensive of this, and she's extremely hard of hearing, so any jokes I make have to be simple and audible and not too inflammatory, because Dad can start a fight with a toothpick. It's sort of like a puzzle, which I would enjoy in the abstract, only it's our lives and not variables on a paper, and that dampens the effect. I'm gearing myself up for a showdown right now. Oh, and another piece! At this moment, Talia's detestable boyfriend is upstairs, sliming all over our possessions, and no doubt making a complete nuisance of himself. There aren't many people whom I dislike (Tony Abbott and Iggy Azalea being exceptions), but I can say with all certainty that Edward McGrossFace is just about the worst person I've ever met. Not only is he hideously boring, he's quite rude, and highly delusional in that he thinks he has excellent social skills, and touts them frequently. He is also spectacularly thoughtless, and occupies our house for hours and hours at a time because he doesn't want to inconvenience his own parents. That's only the tip of the iceberg, though. His relationship with Talia is textbook abusive, from complete control, to emotionally manipulative remarks, to isolation from friends and family, to flat-out insults and lovely utterances like "You don't deserve me," and on and on. Talia is only a shadow of her former self, and it makes me sick to see this happening to her, but there's nothing I can do. It's her life, and she has to figure it out on her own. But you don't know how hard it is not to interfere! I've always looked out for my siblings (Xander too, even though he's older than I am), and now, in this horrible situation, I'm supposed to leave my poor little sister to fend for herself? I know full well that it isn't my place to interfere, but even now, I want to run upstairs and tell Edward exactly what he should do (and where he should stick it). UGH. Anyway, he might be staying to dinner too, and if he does, all my plans are out the window. How am I supposed to be Lucie Mannette to my mentally ill shoemaker family when Heathcliff is sitting across from me? This is terrible. Oh, I hear his dulcet tones in the hall. Is he leaving? Please tell me he's leaving. Go away, you dick. Yes, finally. Okay, I should probably go help clean up in the kitchen or something. I'm being fairly useless right now, hiding away in the library with my guinea pig like a Franciscan hermit. Happy Easter, then, and may you have a more delightful night than we surely will!