A brief catalogue of complaints

Hello, and happy February! Last year, I failed to represent every month in my posting, but this year, I'm determined to make up for that failure with unmitigated success. So far, I seem to be doing so, but as it's only the second month of the year, I suppose we'll just have to see where life takes us.
I really have to stop writing in the first person plural. It sounds so terribly much like the explanation of a lab report.
So, here I am on this lovely Sunday afternoon, avoiding all my responsibilities, as a good college student always likes to do. I have to do a reading guide for stats, but more importantly, I have to perform a literary analysis on some work of dystopian fiction, yet undecided, and have it ready and printed out by 12:40 tomorrow. That means that I have to go to the library, and it's cold and dreary outside, and more importantly, I haven't showered today, and my hair looks like a relic of the Napoleonic wars. "Why don't you just bite the bullet and shower now?" I hear you saying. Well, that's an excellent academic question, and I admire your cleverness in asking it. But you see, then I would have to change my clothes afterwards, and I would be using up two outfits in one day, and that's such a waste, especially when it's hard enough to avoid repetition as it is (I have fewer clothes here than the typical white male gamer). So all in all, I think it's best to wait until the day has run its course. Maybe I can go to the library early tomorrow, before class, and print my paper out then. That's a good idea! I'll just get it all nicely written and formatted here, and then I won't have to worry. It's only two pages; how hard can it be? I've been doing literary analysis since birth (or at least eighth grade), and I can identify symbolism in my sleep. This should be a walk in the park. The only thing I'm worried about is the topic, since this class isn't really about "literature" per se, and we shun novels in favor of Youtube videos and video games. Actually, I like that part, because video games are really just unwritten literature, and I might not be able to differentiate between X and Y on an xbox controller with any degree of regularity, but I'm a hardcore fan, and I will be until the day I become a pregnant and barefoot conservative housewife. But where was I? Oh yes. So, books are very easy for me, but I think our teacher would rather we do movies or something, and I'm not really feeling it. For one thing, I don't watch movies much, and when I do, they usually have more to do with elves and hobbits than with nuclear apocalypses. I wonder if we could consider Middle Earth under Sauron to be a dystopia? I think it's pretty dystopian, don't you? But for some reason, I don't think my teacher would go for the idea. Okay, well, do you think I could use a TV show then? I just watched an episode of Star Trek where this planet was wiped out by an apocalypse, and it was very tragic, only the crew of the Enterprise went back in time and saved them. That wouldn't count, would it. Man. Okay, so I started watching this show called Revolution, and it's as dystopian as it comes. It's a really good show, incidentally, I love it. But could I write about it? I'm really not sure. How would I do it? Would I take an episode? Or maybe part of an episode? But which part? Oh man, this is really difficult. You know what, I'm just going to use The Day After Tomorrow. I saw it on an airplane when I was about nine, so even though the only part I remember is the burly leading man getting stuck in a flooded telephone booth with his beautiful, fainting, costar, I'm sure I could google some climactic scenes and make up something about them. Ugh, this means I have to write about the environment, doesn't it. I hate writing about the environment. Sure, it's important, and pollution is terrible, and global warming and polar ice caps and death to the masses, but it's not an issue in which I'm really invested, unless it has to do with international relations, and even then, I'm iffy. Oh well, I can do it anyway. I could probably write an opinionated essay on shale oil extraction if I had to (it wouldn't be as hard as you think, though, because I was studying it on Wikipedia for fun the other day). I mean, I wrote a pseudo-communist political propaganda speech the other day just to see if I could (I could). So this shouldn't be too bad. I can do this. Yeah, let's go!
I really need to redo my nails first though. I painted them last Sunday, and they looked as lovely as Dorian Gray, but now they're starting to resemble his portrait more, so I need to do a little touch-up. For whatever reason, I really dislike having sloppy-looking nails, like even if they're an uneven length, it'll bother me. So when I paint them, it takes a lot of upkeep, which means that I rarely do it. But I love how they look manicured, and I love nail polish in general, so it's quite the struggle. When I'm a rich lawyer one day, I'll be able to have them perfect all the time, and if that's not motivation to do well in school, I don't know what is.
Speaking of doing well in school, I'm really worried about physics. I got an 85 on the first quiz, for goodness' sake. That's just not acceptable to me. Last semester, I got a 4.0 without even trying, but now I'm afraid that it's going to drop into oblivion despite my hardest efforts. Physics is five credits, so it's weighted more than anything else, and no amount of humanities classes could assuage the deleterious effects of a poor grade. And the kicker? It's not even my fault! I'm not bad at physics, if I do say so myself, but when the only bit of teaching we're getting is the TA dropping by to give us explicitly wrong information, there's only so much I can do. (Seriously though, he told us that particles move faster in higher temperatures, which is true, and that this makes the resistance lower, which is false, and everyone just accepted it) I have my old notes and worksheets and tests and whatnot, and I have google, but this class is more of a blight than an arbitrarily high price floor. Do you think it would be too expensive to sign up for some kind of internet crash course? Now, if I were Austin, I could look at a textbook for five seconds and be able to apply all the concepts as if I'd been born knowing them, do the labs in an hour, get out early, and play Pokemon, but sadly, I have not his particular brand of overarching intelligence. To him, science is nothing but common sense, and AP Chem was a fun and easy class. Now that I think of it, he's pretty excellent at math too. We're just academic opposites, aren't we. That's okay! It means that together, we're an inexorable force of scholar-hood, and nothing can stand in our way. How lovely! It still doesn't solve my physics dilemma, though.
I should probably get down to business now. Okay, let's make a plan. So. I'll go up to the fourth floor and find a deserted study room and paint my nails, and then I'll get some food early, since apparently it's the Superbowl or something, and there will probably be a lot of drunk people out, and then I'll shower, and then I'll sit me down to a good long night of Netflix analysis and studying. I got this, man. Let's go!

My winter so far

Merry Christmas! I haven't written for a long time, I know, but that's quite all right, because I'm writing now, and all is well with the world once again. It doesn't really feel like Christmas today; it's about 80 degrees outside (or it was, before the night fell), and there isn't much in the way of holiday spirit in our house. Oh dear, that's not to say that we live in some sort of Ebenezer Scrooge-esque garret or anything, it's just that we're really not ones to decorate and/or celebrate overmuch. We do have a tree though, a fact which should be profoundly magnificent, but this particular tree of ours is crafted out of three fallen pine branches that Dad managed to glean off the street three days ago. Also, lacking any other place to put it, we've assembled it on the landing of the staircase, where it leans up against the banister in a sort of haphazard way and obscures traffic. However, we did find some lights and ornaments in the garage, so at least it glows and shines with Christmas spirit in that regard. And although we didn't really have many presents this year, there were enough to keep all of us feeling like proper GDP boosters (except for Sungmin, the archetypal consumer). I really didn't want anything this year; I'm just so happy to be home that I could have gotten nothing, and I would still have been happy and excited. But I did get some stuff, and it's stuff that I can use, so I'm really happy. Austin got me a coat and gloves and a scarf so that I can stay warm in Ohio, and he left the price tags on by accident, so I could see that it cost a little more than 100 dollars for the whole ensemble. I feel terribly bad, because I gave him a stuffed guinea pig and a bunch of stuff from the 99¢ store with puns written on each article, but then again, his mom is a rich dentist, and he has money to burn, whereas I'm a broke violin teacher with a burn in my heart for money, so maybe it all evens out in the end. I still feel a bit bad, though. But man, he has a lovely taste in clothes! Tonight, when we go out to our grandma's house, I'm going to wear everything with pride, look like a rich person, and bask in the warmth that love brings.
It's probably pretty annoying to talk about him so much, but let me discuss my wonderful boyfriend with you all for just a moment so that we can all appreciate his numerous charms. So, even though he had a final the next day (well actually he didn't since it got cancelled, but never mind that), he came with Mom to pick me up from the airport. I was so happy to see him that I thought I was hallucinating at first, but then I realized he was real, and it was as if the whole world had started to sing in harmony (wait not that, that would be a little terrifying). It was the best welcome-home I've ever gotten, and I'm still surprised that I didn't cry. He gave me a present: the only Ayn Rand book I haven't read, penguin bookmarks, and my Disneyland ticket that he bought me (so we can go together later). It was so thoughtful, and I couldn't believe it. I've been spending so much time with him now that I'm back, and I think it's to the point where Zac is jealous, because since he's come back from Juilliard, he hasn't had much of a social life. Last night, Austin and Chris came over (the latter was much to Kitty's dismay), and Zac came in with his friend with the most challenging sort of manner ever. I thought he was going to ask all our guests to duel or something.
Okay, so now it's January 12th, and I'm back at school. Happy New Year, and all that! I forgot about this post, and it's only now that I've been able to find it. Many things have happened in this interim, truly, and I would like to tell you all about them. Oh yes, I've laughed, I've cried, I've collected porn in Vegas, and I've lived up to that beloved age-old bromide carpe diem as all the college students of the world are supposed to do. So, let me tell you now!
When I left this entry before, I was talking about Austin, so let me continue, because he was an integral part of my break. I saw him every single day except one, and I think that's quite the accomplishment, seeing as we're both busy people with busy schedules of our own! Sometimes we went out, but more often, we stayed at his house (and later, mine, but that'll be forthcoming) and talked or played video games or did myriad other things, and it was relaxing and wonderful. Strange as it may seem, I can't ever get tired of him, no matter how much I see him! It's not that we don't have our disputes, just as every couple does, but even when we're fighting, I still love him, and (he says) he still loves me. Also, we can work things out, usually fairly quickly, so that's another excellent facet. But where was I? Right, so he got acquainted with my family somewhat during the summer, but now he got a chance to really get integrated into our dynamic. Surprisingly, everyone likes him, or at least approves of him, which is more than I can say for most people, friends or not (we're somewhat of a clan of misanthropes, but that's neither here nor there). Sungmin even gets along with him, and you know that's hard to do. He came along with us to three of our performances, and even though he didn't play or sing with us (we tried to urge him to, but he was too nervous), he watched, and helped us carry our stuff, and was just generally wonderful. After awhile, he got comfortable enough with my family, and they with him, that he came over to our house and hung out with me there. At first, we only let him stay in the front room, since that's the only clean room (it's where we teach our students), but then finally, we let him stay to dinner, and he saw the horrific kitchen and the slightly-less-horrific-but-still-frightening family room (that's what it's called, right? That's what we call it). And he politely sat down, not even presuming to move the eighty-seven books and twice as many papers littering most of the area (I cleaned up for him in subsequent visits). He was so polite about everything that if he hadn't won Mom's heart before, he did now, and he was allowed to come over as often as he (or I) liked. While all this bonding was happening on my side, it was also happening on his side, since I got the doubtful privilege of meeting what seemed to be the entire Philippines when his family came over. Being who I am, I was naturally fairly nervous about meeting them all, but I managed it, and I like to think that I managed it with poise and grace. Oh, wait, I didn't meet them all at once, I realize I made it sound like I did. But no, thankfully, it was incremental. First, I met his little adorable brother, who's a freshman, and the most socially awkward little dork I've ever seen. It took awhile, but finally he got comfortable with me, and I was happy, because he's a little cutie, and it's nice to be accepted by your boyfriend's family, you know? After that, I met the parents. I wasn't really sure how to feel about them, because of how they treated Austin and Adam when they were younger (and kind of now too), but they were nice enough, though scary. Fortunately, they approve of me, and the mom even gave me a really cute pair of shoes, since apparently, I'm the closest thing she has to a daughter, and she wants to treat me as such (again, I'm not sure how good of a thing that would be, considering her parental track record, but it's a lovely sentiment, and I do appreciate it very much). After that, I got to meet the grandparents, and they're both the very picture of a sweet old couple. They didn't speak English, but that didn't stop them from giving me food and being lovely to me. After that, I got to meet various cousins and uncles and aunties (his family tree could rival that of Henry IV's), and they were all very nice people, though intimidatingly rich and successful. All the cousins were very attractive too, and smart, and I think it runs in the family. But everyone was very nice to me, so I didn't feel that inadequate. Having met everyone thus, Austin asked his mom if he could bring me on their family vacation to Vegas, and she acquiesced happily, so that's how I found myself in pecuniary paradise with ten of the richest people I've ever met. Goodness me, that was a little stressful! I'm not exactly affluent, and though I can act like a sophisticate if need be, I'm distinctly middle class. I didn't want to be presumptuous, so I was prepared to buy all of my own food, but when the median price for a hot dog is seventeen dollars, there's only so much you can do. Fortunately, the mom bought everyone food in a block the whole time, so I didn't even get the chance to ask for my share of the bill. I still tried to be considerate, but I guess I wasn't as inconspicuous as I thought I was, because Austin kept asking his mom to get more food for me, and she would act all concerned, and do it. Very nice of them, of course, but it's a bit awkward to have people being solicitous on your behalf all the time when it costs them undue expense to do so (of course, I don't imagine that they thought the expense was undue). Overall, though, I had an amazing time, and the memories will get me through these dark days of winter here. After we got back, we went to Disneyland the next day, which sounds like it should be tiring, but it wasn't, really. Everything seemed to be closed, and there were huge crowds, but we had fun anyway, and I was really happy to be able to go. Mom got free tickets from her department at work, so she and Kitty and Sungmin, and Zac, and Zac's friend Carlos all went too. It was quite the party, and our families got to meet, and everything was sunshine and daisies. The next week, which was the last week of break, Austin and I tried to pack in all the things we'd wanted to do earlier but hadn't. We went to LA for a day and went to the LACMA and to this fancy bookstore, and we attempted to go to Francisco's performance, but they wouldn't let us in, and finally, we met up with some of the hard-partying La Sierra crew. That last part was the only unhappy part of the day, ugh, I don't know how I got through it. But I did get through it, and lived to do other things! Finally, though, it came to be the last day of break. My plane left at 6 in the morning on Sunday, so I had to leave the house at about 3:50 in order to get to the airport on time (Zac too, incidentally; we both had the same flight to Dallas, on our respective ways to New York and Ohio). I stayed up all night, and Austin stayed with me, which I appreciated more than I can say. We slept on the couch for a couple hours, but mostly we sat in teary-eyed wakefulness and tried to grasp the fact that I was leaving again, and we'd have to be apart for four more interminable months. Leaving this time was even harder than it was in August, because in August, I didn't really know what I'd be missing once I was gone. But now I do, and it already seems so long. I don't know how I'm going to stand this. Anyway, I cried gallons all the way to Columbus, and it was really traumatic. Why I ever decided it would be a good idea to move 2110 miles from everyone and everything I love, I have no idea.
Now I'm back again! Goodness me, I just keep leaving this poor post for days at a time, letting it marinate in the heat of my forgetfulness, all by itself. Quite a pity. But that's all right now, because I'm here! So, where was I? I was talking about my baby winter break, wasn't I. So! I finally got to see Allie and Sonia, and I was so happy, because I hadn't seen them for months, and I'd missed them a lot. We all got to catch up and talk about our new lives, and it was extremely exciting to feel so sophisticated. I mean, we're college students now; we're practically adults! Soon we'll be paying bills and mortgages and taxes and all that fun stuff. Maybe, if we're very lucky, we'll even get culled for jury duty someday! Life is so full of excitement.
Oh, okay, so life is actually kind of full of excitement at the moment for real. I feel like it shouldn't be, though. See, Melissa decided to move into the church house this semester, so I have the room to myself. And though I feel ashamed to be so happy about her moving out, it's the next best thing to paradise for an introvert like me to get to live in solitude all semester. Honestly, it's nothing on her; she was a perfect roommate in every way, and I like her a lot, but even the loveliest people can get in the way of your personal space sometimes if you just want to be alone, and it's really nice to have a fortress of isolation to return to after a long, hard, day of socializing (okay, well, maybe that last word is a bit of an exaggeration, but you know). So that's one nice thing, and also, I really like my classes! Syntax and grammar are wonderful, and feed my inner logician, and though I thought Dystopian Lit was going to be sub-par (it fulfilled my last humanities GE as well as one of my English minor requirements, so I had to take it), it's actually really cool, and full of real literary analysis. My other linguistics class turned out to be more on the computational side, and is basically a statistics class with computer programming, which you'd think I'd be terrible at, but so far, the challenge is really stimulating and fun, and I like it a lot. This class also serves double duty as my last math GE and a prerequisite for the linguistics major as a whole, so it's perfect. My schedule is really nicely chosen, I think. Oh, well except for one thing. Physics is proving to be extremely difficult, not because I'm bad at physics, but because the teachers (there are about five of them) make it a policy to not teach us anything. The class is meant to be based on the inquiry method, which sounds good in theory, but in actuality is anything but. Every Tuesday and Thursday, for three hours, I sit with my lab group, and we try to puzzle through interminable labs on our own without reliable assistance. There's no lecture, there are no notes, and there is no learning. Everything is done in the group, and although there's not much homework, attendance is mandatory, and there are three midterms, which are done individually, and which cover all the things we've never learned. I'm really thankful that my physics teacher in high school was good, and that I saved every last thing I did in that class, because otherwise I'd be more lost than an uneducated voter on election day. I got my mom to mail me my physics binder, and I intend to make very good use of it throughout this difficult semester. Today, we were going over circuits, which were never my favorite phenomena anyway, and which become 100% more confusing when you have to figure out everything on your own with some burned-out bulbs, a pair of half-dead batteries, and a vaguely cheery pothead for a TA. While Michael earnestly tried to convince us that parallel circuits were basically the same as series, only prettier, Kayla and I tried out what seemed like every single permutation possible, given our equipment, in a vain attempt to figure out the mathematical relationship between the resistors in a parallel circuit. However hard we tried though, it was all useless, and now we know even less than we did when we started. I honestly think lecture is the best way to learn, and if someone gave me a set of notes to study, I wouldn't contest their validity. This is the worst class in my schedule, and it really doesn't help that it starts at 9:00 AM (well, 9:10 really, but I have to tell myself it's earlier than it is just so that I'll get up on time). Oh well, it's nothing I can't handle, I think, and maybe it will get better. We'll see.
Speaking of school, I really should be doing homework now, since I have a lot due, so I will see you later! Goodbye now!

Hold on, I'm coming home

Here I am in the Columbus airport! I'm ready to go home, and I couldn't be more excited. I finally get to see Austin after so long, and Allie and Sonia, and my family, of course. And I get to shower in a nice shower, and use a nice bathroom, and sleep in a nice bed, and eat nice food, and lots of it, and sleep a lot, and hide from people if I want, and be in the same place as my love, and man, this is the best day ever. I am so happy right now.
There's this really annoying girl next to me having a tearful conversation with her mom about how she's attracted to douchebags, and her standards are too high. Honestly, if she's not getting any guys, I don't think high standards are her problem. She is so whiny and irritating and oh my goodness, I don't even know anymore. I'm being a bit of an asshole, I know, but I'm on my period, so I'm allowed to be in a little snit now and then. Also, I'm extremely hungry, but I don't have any money, so I can't get any food. There are people all around me eating though, which only serves to increase my irritation. They're all so happy and well-fed and rich, and I'm so not. But I am happy though. Because I'm going home! I'm going home, I'm going home, tell the world I'm going home, etc. I wonder if my fellow passengers would mind if I burst into a rousing chorus of I'll Fly Away in honor of the occasion, or if they would take umbrage at the morbid undertones. I guess there's only one way to find out! Ready?
No, just kidding. I wouldn't do that. Although it would be rather lovely if I got everyone else in the terminal to sing the I'll-fly-away part while I waxed lyrical on the rest, in a proper call and response style. We could all join in on the chorus, and I could even assign some harmonies to the better musicians in the group. Wouldn't that be something now? I'm sure it would end up on the internet in no time, and then the Supreme Court would have to accept me.
There are two OSU students sitting over by the window, and they're talking about their GPAs. Now, I do hate to be pretentious and egotistical, but sometimes it is easy to look down on people, especially if they think that a 3.6 is unattainable. I suppose if they're engineers or something, it would make sense, but judging from their delightfully simple diction, I would hazard that this is not the case. Oh, well, I shouldn't judge. Perhaps they are brilliant souls in spite of it all.
There is a darling blond family sitting in front of me having their little dinner, and it's making me nostalgic. They have three children, all of whom look to be under the age of twelve, and the dad and mom are young and attractive, and they're all so happy and agreeable, and I just can't. Oh, now their grandparents have shown up, and a man who looks to be the uncle. This is straight out of a Thomas Kincaid painting. How are they even so happy and idyllic? I feel like Oliver Twist. Fortunately, the girl beside me has left, so I'm spared the unwelcome gossip, but now the middle-aged man on my other side has taken up the strain. People are so chatty these days, the good souls. It's like being in a Puritan village (though I'd venture to say slightly less salacious). I think we're going to board soon, so I should get ready to go. I'm so excited!

Another compendium of days

College is supposed to be the time for experimenting in life, and although I'm a pretty straight-shooting girl (as was kindly pointed out to me by one rather intoxicated gentleman who attempted to hit on me and Melissa when we went out one evening), I can't deny that the call of experimentation was too strong for me to resist. I'm a little bit nervous about this, because I know people will judge me, and really, it's not easy for me to say this, but there's no other way. So, I have to say it:
I think I'm a Libertarian.
I know, it's quite a shocking revelation. I was stunned at first too, but then I realized how liberated I felt (zing), and I knew that all was well. Maybe it's just a phase, but it's an important phase for me, and it's one that I will go through with strength and determination. However, I'm still a little nervous about telling my family. They'll belittle me so much, oh dear. Well, everyone but my dad will belittle me. Dad will be proud of me, since technically that's his party as well (although lately, he has been leaning more towards the Bill Deagol Party and less towards anything vaguely resembling sense). Still, no matter what cold winds of judgement and denigration and possible cries of "naiveté" I might hear, I must accept the burden, and let the world see me as I really am. I am a Libertarian, and no one can change this fact unless it is me.
I took my final for political science today. Since it's an online course, as long as I completed the lectures and assignments within the given time frames, I had complete discretion as to where everything went. I think that was quite nice for a course on politics; it really highlighted my freedom of choice, and made it clear that liberty is a right of the people (although to be fair, that last point might depend on whom you ask). Anyway, despite inordinate panic and what felt like a grade-A anxiety attack, I finished it right up and got a 94 and all was well (I missed two questions, which were probably both on environmental policy). Man, that was a relief. Now my final grade is an A, and I have shown beyond a shadow of a doubt that freshmen really can handle the rigor of the course. Speaking of finals, I took my Language and Formal Reasoning one on Thursday (that is, I turned it in on Thursday; it was another take-home affair), and I got a perfect score on that one. So my final grade in that class is an A as well. That was my favorite class, man. It was truly the balm in the Gilead of my schedule. It made me realize that I'm not bad at math, just numbers, and that syntax is truly the field for me (I'd sort of thought so already, but this clinched it). I want to take another logic course! Do you think it would be deplorable to make my way over to the philosophy department some rainy day? I don't think it would be bad. Even if people decided to Socra-tease me about it, I would have found a Hume there, and I could cast aside the unpleasantness and Liebniz all behind. I Kant allow things like that to get in my way, so I will go out on that field and Plato to my heart's content. I will be the Overman (to my own mind at least), and nothing will bring me down! Where was I now? Oh yes. So also, I finally got my grade back for my English paper, and it was another A. After that, I really did go all noodly with relief, because really, who wouldn't? The TA, who is an extremely hard grader, told me that it was an excellent and well-written paper, with lots of complex points and interesting thoughts, and that she was impressed by my ability to synthesize Douglass and Stowe. Well, gee, I don't know what to say! I could have done a better job, really, only I had to write it all in a few hours because of my terrible procrastination, and I didn't have time to revise it. Patriot that I am, I'm not about to complain about Frederick Douglass, but Uncle Tom's Cabin, now that's a book that really twists my knickers! Of all the ridiculous trash ever produced in literature, I think that's gotta be way up there at the top of the Avoid or Die list. I mean, the darn thing practically drips with slavering sentimentality, and the only thing worth honorable mention is the sheer number of synonyms Stowe found for "crying." There are so many other things worth more salt as abolitionist narratives, and I seriously don't think we should glorify this one gratuitously just because it was written by a woman. Contrary to popular belief, women mess stuff up just as often as men, and blindly elevating every piece of drivel ever produced by a woman only serves to undermine the feminist ideology. This kind of thing in general makes me really mad, okay, like sure, Berthe Morissot was a woman painter when women weren't supposed to be doing that sort of thing, how cool, let's appreciate that, but let's not try to pretend she was better than the other Impressionists just because of her gender. That's an insult to women, really, if you think about it. Women should have to try just as hard as men for everything, and their mediocrity shouldn't be rewarded just to match some deluded social justice warrior's version of affirmative action. We can never achieve gender equality if we keep pushing for disparity. Come on now. It's just common sense.
It snowed yesterday! I can't get over how beautiful and amazing it is; I mean, it's like tangible poetry. It got pretty deep too, like a couple of inches (I don't know if that's actually "deep" or not), and it's so nice to look at it from the quasi-comfort of my dorm. I'm pretty sure that if I tried to spend the night out there, for whatever reason, I would actually freeze to death, and if that ain't the most hardcore thing you've ever heard, then you must be some kind of crazy goat-wrestling Laistrygonian, because I mean, all that's keeping me from death is an inadequately heated dorm building and five blankets (I got cold one day and decided to supplement my comforter). Seriously, though! Why do people live here? It's like the Egdon Heath of the Midwest. I guess that means I'm Eustacia, so that's not a total loss, but still! Even though I love the snow, I dislike the cold, I really can't wait to go home and live in sense and sensibility once again.
I've been working on this post for three days now (or is it four?), and I just can't seem to finish it. It's quite a problem. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. Anyway, this is my last night in Ohio for three blessed weeks, because tomorrow, I'm going home! I'm so excited. No one knows my excitement but me (and possibly Austin). It's like Godot has finally arrived. This is momentous! If the plane crashes, I won't even die; I'll be borne on the wings of my delight back to my home, where my love will be waiting for me with open arms (well, metaphorically speaking; he still has another final to take on Thursday). What a poetic image. I'm glad I came up with it. I still quite hope the plane doesn't crash, though.
Tomorrow is my last final, and it's English. If I fail this one, oh gurl, it's going down. I calculated it: I can get a B, and my grade won't move. I really don't want a B, though. The last time I got a B in English was in 9th grade, and that was because we had a reading comprehension test on a book I hadn't read. Anyway! I'm going to study a bit and make sure I know everything, and then I'll be ready to sparkle and shine. I'm the one who got the highest grade on the midterm, after all. I mustn't lose my reputation (it was a 99). But if I get a B instead, I guess that's fine, because my final grade will still glow with the heat of a thousand nuclear reactors. Man, I love English. Oh! For next semester, one of my advanced level courses got cancelled because no one else wanted to take it (dumb butts), so I had to pick another one. So I get to take grammar! I'm really excited, actually. In the description of the class, the teacher made it sound like more linguistics and syntax and English grammar, and you just know that's a combination made in humanities nerd heaven. Next semester is going to be beautiful. I have 18 credits again, but this time, none of them are university-mandated, so you know they're going to be fun. My only problem is that the only day that doesn't start at 9:30 AM is Monday, and Mondays are bad enough already. But if I can do four hours of physics lab whilst my brain tries to escape through my eyes, I'm confident that I can do anything on this planet. This will be a lesson in discipline for me, and maybe I'll even raise the GDP by sole virtue of my inordinate caffeine consumption along the way. Every cloud has a silver lining after all!
Now I really am going to study for English, so I will be off. The next time I write, I'll probably be home, or en route to home! Wish me luck!

Ugh part 3

Am I depressed? I don't think I am. What earthly reason would I have to be? I don't have a hard life. I'm pretty, I'm smart, I'm fairly likable, I have a good family, I'm attending college, I have friends, a boyfriend, even pets, I have talent I suppose– So why the hell should I feel so sad? I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm so privileged, and I don't deserve to feel anything but happy. But I don't feel happy. It's all I can do to go out and buy food for myself and get up in the morning and just live with some modicum of normalcy. I cringe every time someone tries to talk to me, and every time someone wants to Skype or text or anything, I feel my heart sink. If my babe talks to me, I'm happy, and I'm fine with talking to my family too, but why do I want to avoid everyone else? I don't understand. This isn't normal, I'm pretty sure. I feel so horribly out of control. Yes, I'm going about my life as usual, so far, but who's to say I'm going to keep doing so? I can't even make myself finish my assignments until minutes before they're due, and I can't get the energy to eat more than once a day. And then there's the safety pin. I know it's not really self harm, since all I'm doing is scratching, but it's so easy to do it, and I tell myself I'll stop, but then I do it again. It's almost like I want to maintain a scarred body. No, it is like that. Some twisted part of my brain likes the scars, and when they start to fade, I pick right up and do it again. I thought that when I stopped doing that years ago, I'd stopped for good. No matter how shitty I felt, I was sure I could handle it without resorting to scratching. But that didn't pan out, did it? I don't even know why I'm doing this; most people have good reasons, but I honestly am unable to articulate why I do. It's terrible. What if I'm just making up my turmoil for attention? What if I'm just a big fat fake, like in every other area of my life? That would make sense. That would make a lot of sense. But if I'm such a fake, shouldn't I feel fine inside? I shouldn't feel like I'm slowly being sucked into a bottomless pit, should I? Because I do. Every day, I feel like part of me is being consumed, never to return, and I'm so scared. I'm losing myself, and I'm going to lose everyone and everything I care about. I want someone to help, but I don't think anyone can, and besides, if they tried, I'm pretty sure I would push them away. That's how I was wired, I guess, and I'm going to destroy myself, all alone. Part of me wants to actively do that. Destroy myself, I mean. I want to carve deep into my skin, and burn myself all over, and drink until I pass out, and smoke until I cough up my lungs. I want to stop taking care of myself (the little that I do) and die. And then the other part of me wants to keep pushing on, and studying, and eating, and sleeping, and maintaing at least an outwards semblance of sanity. And then there's a little part that wants to stop with the facade and ask someone to take care of me, since I can't seem to do it adequately myself. None of these parts fit with each other, so you can see my dilemma. I can't think of anything that will make me better, so I'm going to keep doing the silly little things that keep me from falling apart at the seams, no matter how unhealthy they are. If watching bad TV shows on Netflix and eating ice cream can get me through another day, hell yes I'm going to do that. If looking forward to trying another flavor of syrup in my coffee gives me the strength to get out of bed, I'm going to try it without shame. Maybe there's no grand, dramatic, fix for anything. Maybe all we can do is keep the chaos back with little gestures until the end. But if I can keep it back with these little things, it must not be real. If my problems were real, would I be able to keep them at bay just by telling myself that there's a new season of Supernatural out, and I need to get through so I can watch it? I'm so pathetic. I can't believe people have put up with me so long. Well, okay, I guess I can believe that, since as far as they know, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me. Which there's really not. Why am I making this all up? Is it for attention? It can't be, if I don't tell anyone. Is it so that I feel important to myself? No, I'm rational enough to see that that will never happen, fake problems or not. Then why? It would be so nice if I could just flip a switch and be better. Then I could focus completely on everyone else, since there's an awful lot of people in my life who could use the care. Let's be real– I don't matter. And it's ridiculous for me to think I do. Maybe if I pretend long enough, I'll turn out fine after all. It's worth a shot, isn't it? I won't crack. I'll act like I'm not picturing blowing my brains out, and the only thought in my head has to do with coordinating my shoes with my skirt. And eventually, I'll start believing that myself. I won't think about death anymore, I'll stop composing suicide notes, and I'll be okay. It's going to happen. Maybe not soon, maybe not for years, maybe not until I'm on my deathbed, but I will find peace someday. And then I'll really and truly be happy, and nothing, not pseudo-depression, not self-loathing, not death, nothing, can ever take that away.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of everything. Physically, emotionally, the whole bit. I really just want to be out of the world for a bit. Like, I would like to die temporarily and come back after awhile and carry on with life, just as alive as ever, but hopefully more ready to meet challenges head-on. Why can't we have that? I could get all the sleep I need, and I could run away from my problems in true hedonist fashion, and all would be well. I don't know what would happen to my body in the interim, though. Would someone agree to house it, if it didn't decompose or anything? I know I wouldn't want to have a dead body kicking about my living room. Kind of gives a suspicious air to the place. Maybe I could be frozen, and just take a really long, hot, shower when I woke up (in this parallel universe, there would be actual hot water in the dorms). Oh yes, and I suppose there would have to be something funny going on with time so that I wouldn't miss any of my important classes. Man. Who knew being dead was so riddled with problems?
No, but really, I'm so sick of everything. Melissa has grown strangely attached to the room, so I don't want to eat anymore, and tell me what you please, I still think that it's hard to maintain a gung-ho attitude in the face of imminent starvation. I have a lot of papers to write, and I have no inclination to write them, which is fairly worrisome, because if there's anything I like, it's writing papers. I just don't want to get anything done. I try to bribe myself in hopes that I'll get it all done, but there's nothing I can do to reward myself, so that plan doesn't amount to much. I'm worried about my stupid survey class, the one the university made me take without asking, since it's terribly disorganized, and I don't think I've done the assignments, and it would be horrible beyond words to ruin my GPA with that class. I don't know what I'm going to do about my Humanities Scholars class either, because I haven't gone to a lot of the events, and they might fail me for that. And I'm so sick to death of the interminable numbers of people! I never feel comfortable doing anything, because they're always around me. Tomorrow, the guy from orchestra somehow got me to agree to practicing with him, and I REALLY don't want to. I'm dreading it so much. Why did I agree to this? He's one of those lovely touchy people too, so I can't back out without mortally offending him, and I suppose that shouldn't matter, but I'm me, and I'm pathetic, and I want to avoid as much unpleasantness as I can. I just really don't want to do this anymore. I want to die. No, I don't, that's not true. I don't know what I want. Just not this. Or anything. I want someone to take care of me for once. No one's ever done that. I suppose that's the danger of being the shiny balloon I am. It's easy to assume that I'm all right, since I'm so good at pretending that everything's perfect, and once I get into the role of the caretaker, I can't get out. And I don't want to show any weakness, so there's no one on whom I can rely, not really. I just want someone to love me, no strings attached, and see to my needs, no matter how trivial they are, or how whiny I seem. I want someone to hold me and pet my hair and tell me that it's going to be okay, and that I shouldn't worry. And I want to cry and not have to feel ashamed of it. Why can't I have that? Why am I always the one who has to take care of everyone, no matter how horrible I might feel? Am I selfish for wanting love? I only need a little bit. I'm not used to it, so it would go far. And I don't need it often, even once would be enough. I'm resilient, I'm strong, I'm brave– and I'm so pathetic. I'm sick of being everyone's rock. I want to break. Why is it okay for everyone else to be cared for, but not me? Oh, why am I so selfish? I need to be better. I don't know what to do anymore. Everything hurts. Maybe it would be better if I did just go out and die.

Ugh part 2

Oh dear, I don't feel good again. What's wrong with me? I can have a few days' respite from the problems, and just when I think they're gone, they come surging back with such intensity that it almost bowls me over and right out the door. I quite honestly feel no adverse emotion when I think of killing myself. I know it's not good for me to feel this way, but I don't see what I'm going to do about it. If I can distract myself one way or another the gloom goes away for a bit, but then it comes back full force as soon as my distraction goes away. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. I almost want to die. Isn't there some way to get over this? I just want to be better. There's nothing even wrong with me; I should be perfectly happy, and that makes it even worse. I feel like an attention whore for feeling this way, when there are people with real problems, but I can't make it go away just by wishing. Hell, if that were the case, I'd have been better a long time ago. What is wrong with me? Melissa compliments me often on my strength of character, and everyone else tells me admiringly how sweet and even-tempered I am, and that's laughable. I cry more than would be strictly sensible (although, as established, it's more of a pathetic drizzle than anything else), and I walk around 70% of the time contemplating the least troublesome ways to kill myself. I feel so fake. I look like I have my act together, but I'm just a gross, pathetic, mess behind the polish. And I kind of want someone to see past that and help me out, but then I also don't, and I'd feel needy and whiny and selfish and weak and all that if he did. What could that someone do, anyway? I just need a good slap upside the head, really. Then, too, I don't want to be that vulnerable or dependent. Letting people into the innermost sanctum requires a level of trust I don't possess; I have enough problems of my own to worry about without having to think of new ones, courtesy of uncaring people. Because, although you might try to contest it for the reputation of human nature, no one really cares at all. No, it's better for me to stone-wall everyone and deal with my stupid issues on my own. I'll never let anyone see what's going on behind my hypocritical smile and my attentiveness to any and all problems that aren't my own. Why would anyone care, anyway? Sure, some kind soul might offer a few saccharine bromides about everything happening for a reason, or how everyone goes through rough patches, but those mean nothing. And how would I explain that there's no reason why I should feel so horrible, but that I do? I'm so stupid and pathetic. Why was I born this way? What earthly purpose do I serve? Maybe I should die, wouldn't that be better? Dammit, I hate this so much. I hate myself so much. Maybe I'm just a defective prototype, and once I'm gone, the real Jasmine will take my place. She'll be pretty and smart, but she won't have any of my problems. It'll be like Rembrandt– once you see her, you can't go back to the mediocrity that's me without feeling let down. Fortunately, no one will have to, because I'll be gone at that point. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself. It's just something I think about a lot. I'm going to shower, and then I'm going to bed. I'll be fine in the morning, for awhile anyway. We'll see. Goodnight, then.