Sunday Night Burnout
Except it's Monday night. Apparently I failed to realize that although I get a three-day weekend, I still have just as much to do for Tuesdays, plus the work that would have been due on Monday. I resent the fact that every time I try to take a mental health break, I just end up getting even further behind and hence less mentally healthy. At least I'm now auditing my nature class, so that I just have to do the readings instead of doing the readings and writing the 6-8 page paper that would be due tomorrow.
It's days like this that make me end up feeling depressed. That's not to say I'm depressed right now, at least not yet, but I feel like these kinds of days highlight my place in the social scheme of things and why I find that so frustrating. In sum: I feel I'm a foil to all the socially extroverted people I hang out with, and that I've constructed a niche for myself that entails providing for or cleaning up after people in a generally invisible way.
Yesterday, Harrison and I attended a BBQ/potluck at the Women's Resource Lounge; my contributions were a couple of bottles of wine and some hummus and crackers. Harrison openly scoffed at the classiness of this offering-this was more of a beer and hot dogs party, apparently, though nobody seemed to embrace the theme too enthusiastically-and his sophomore groupie friend shoved these offerings aside to make room for some meaty finger-food. Soon, though, both bottles had been emptied, somebody was enjoying the hummus by the spoonful, and Harrison and I were off get yet more wine from Safeway. Harrison, who had more recently claimed he didn't like being drunk and didn't want to drink that night, was soon drunk and apparently enjoying it, judging by his reaction to the girls who were hanging off him. So, one way to see the night was that I was initially scoffed at when I tried to inject a little bit of class into the evening, but the wine ended up being a hit, much to the benefit of the very people who scoffed at me in the first place. (That said, though, I did enjoy the party quite a bit myself; even in my role as the quiet guy, I saw some good, honest interactions with people I don't see too often.)
I was perhaps lucky to be able to face today without a hangover and with the benefit of a pretty good night's rest-benefits of having been drunk by 7:30 p.m., I guess-but was assailed with all the work I'd been putting off, plus bending over to take care of Pio writers who turn in articles more than 24 hours after they were due (I had no fewer than nine late articles to edit today, coming in between midnight at 7 p.m.). To me, that's another example of me fulfilling my niche by cleaning up after other people. I mean, it's nice to be able to help other people out, but the fact that I'm there and willing to pick up the slack when other people's lives get in the way (as if I don't have one myself) puts me in the background, allowing other people to live and enjoy their lives (kinda like the above story). And in the case of the Pio, my niche is only non-invisible when I get to act as the bad guy-filling writers' pages with red ink and such.
I feel like I have more to say on the issue, but it's not coming to mind right now. I'm getting tired, and I fear that if I don't tackle this lab report now, I'll fall asleep before it gets done.
I don't really know who reads this anymore, but for those of you who do, and for my good friends who don't, I'm grateful. I'm increasingly fearful of scaring people away by complaining too much, since I know how unattractive that can be, so I appreciate those people with whom I can talk openly without being afraid of alienation. I hope I can be as good a friend in return. Thank you.
It's days like this that make me end up feeling depressed. That's not to say I'm depressed right now, at least not yet, but I feel like these kinds of days highlight my place in the social scheme of things and why I find that so frustrating. In sum: I feel I'm a foil to all the socially extroverted people I hang out with, and that I've constructed a niche for myself that entails providing for or cleaning up after people in a generally invisible way.
Yesterday, Harrison and I attended a BBQ/potluck at the Women's Resource Lounge; my contributions were a couple of bottles of wine and some hummus and crackers. Harrison openly scoffed at the classiness of this offering-this was more of a beer and hot dogs party, apparently, though nobody seemed to embrace the theme too enthusiastically-and his sophomore groupie friend shoved these offerings aside to make room for some meaty finger-food. Soon, though, both bottles had been emptied, somebody was enjoying the hummus by the spoonful, and Harrison and I were off get yet more wine from Safeway. Harrison, who had more recently claimed he didn't like being drunk and didn't want to drink that night, was soon drunk and apparently enjoying it, judging by his reaction to the girls who were hanging off him. So, one way to see the night was that I was initially scoffed at when I tried to inject a little bit of class into the evening, but the wine ended up being a hit, much to the benefit of the very people who scoffed at me in the first place. (That said, though, I did enjoy the party quite a bit myself; even in my role as the quiet guy, I saw some good, honest interactions with people I don't see too often.)
I was perhaps lucky to be able to face today without a hangover and with the benefit of a pretty good night's rest-benefits of having been drunk by 7:30 p.m., I guess-but was assailed with all the work I'd been putting off, plus bending over to take care of Pio writers who turn in articles more than 24 hours after they were due (I had no fewer than nine late articles to edit today, coming in between midnight at 7 p.m.). To me, that's another example of me fulfilling my niche by cleaning up after other people. I mean, it's nice to be able to help other people out, but the fact that I'm there and willing to pick up the slack when other people's lives get in the way (as if I don't have one myself) puts me in the background, allowing other people to live and enjoy their lives (kinda like the above story). And in the case of the Pio, my niche is only non-invisible when I get to act as the bad guy-filling writers' pages with red ink and such.
I feel like I have more to say on the issue, but it's not coming to mind right now. I'm getting tired, and I fear that if I don't tackle this lab report now, I'll fall asleep before it gets done.
I don't really know who reads this anymore, but for those of you who do, and for my good friends who don't, I'm grateful. I'm increasingly fearful of scaring people away by complaining too much, since I know how unattractive that can be, so I appreciate those people with whom I can talk openly without being afraid of alienation. I hope I can be as good a friend in return. Thank you.