Back
I'm back again. I haven't been anywhere, though. After classes I visited Lauren for a little bit, and then I came back over to the library. Upon completing my economics homework, I studied some for the economics final. Then I wrote a LiveJournal entry. Then I studied for the Japanese final. Then I studied for the religion final. Now I write another entry.
I should go outside and call my brother. He took the AP European History test today, and I want to hear what he thought of it. I bet he didn't like it. Does anyone like that test? Well, AP tests are supposed to be painful; it doesn't matter which one you take. I kind of enjoyed the Stats test, though. Well, maybe I did. I don't recall perfectly. I know I liked the psychology test. When you study your butt off for something, the test becomes easy and thus unintentionally fun. Wow, around this time last year, I was studying for all my AP exams in the Owensboro library. Now I'm studying for all my finals here at Centre's library. I certainly didn't expect myself to be in this state. I knew I would be here at Centre, of course, but I didn't think I'd feel the way I do. I don't know if I feel bad. I know I'm not particularly happy. At least not at the moment. I'm not chronically unhappy, though. But am I happy more often than I am unhappy, or more often unhappy than happy? I really do want to talk to a counselor this summer.
Thursday I didn't have anything due for any class, so I let myself relax a bit on Wednesday. I popped one of my Evangelion DVDs into my laptop and kicked back and watched the two movies since the final episode of the series premiered on adult-swim on Saturday. So after I watch the movies, I work on some Japanese homework due Friday. Then, suddenly, I remember my humanities paper. The humanities paper due at four o'clock Wednesday afternoon. And it was five o'clock, an hour late. I jumped from my futon, dashed to my computer (it was three steps to my desk, but I dashed the distance, damn it), and e-mailed my paper to my professor with a brief explanation and apology. Then I nearly broke down. I'd finished the paper Tuesday night, and those adjustments were just the final tweaking; I had the rough draft written on Friday and all relatively major changes made Monday afternoon. Monday night I took it to the Writing Center for an objective opinion and to check for any minor mistakes I overlooked. After all that work, I would lose points because I couldn't turn the damn thing in on time. Ridiculous. Part of me realized my professor would be lenient since he knew I'd worked hard on it, but I still felt sick. I felt physically ill will self-loathing. And, honestly, even if I make a B on the paper, it won't ruin my A in the class. I overreacted. But I'm not sorry that I did because it provides incentive for me to not make stupid mistakes like that again. But I hate that I can't relax during the week. Is it so wrong for me to take a break and not devote every moment to my studies? I don't do that anyway; I always allow myself TV time at the end of the day, but that doesn't mean I should have to work all day and never relax. It ruins my focus. Is that just the way I'm programmed, or is there something wrong with me? Everyone thinks something plagues himself/herself. Society lets us use that as our excuse, as a scapegoat. I don't think I have anything horribly wrong with me, but I want to indulge a bit and talk about myself with someone and let them tell me it's not that bad. Of course I have problems, but no more so than anyone else. I just want to talk to someone I don't already know, gain a completely objective insight. Can insight ever be objective, though? No, but I want some feedback from someone who doesn't know me. I need to know how I come off to people because I focus on school too much to realize what sort of person I am to others. Somehow I am socially stunted; I don't have the sort of relationships that other people have. I have friends, but I'm don't achieve the same level of closeness, do I? It's not a competition, but it's cause for concern if I haven't formed bonds with people.
Okay, that might be going a bit too far, overstating a fairly minor issue in place of a larger one (though I don't know what that is). I have close friends. I have friends I will miss severely this summer, friends who feel as close to me as I do to them, friends who provide as much support for me as I do for them. Mayra and I really are kindred spirits, and that's strangely a very difficult thing for me to embrace. I actually didn't realize how close we are until a few weeks ago. She was looking for me; she needed to talk to me and needed comfort from me. I can't remember the last time someone actually wanted me to be his/her source of comfort. Usually, if I provide any comfort to anyone, it's simply based on convenience, from the mere fact that I was there at the right place and at the right time. That might not be true, but I always feel like that. People don't always say how they feel, so I don't know how they feel, especially how they feel about me. Mayra let me know, and that means so much to me.
And I have people I can go to when I need to open up. I wonder how often I open up to people? My mom says I need to open up more because that's how we form bonds with each other, but I instinctively wait for others to open up first because I don't want to be rejected or belittled. And I don't want others to somehow see me as weak. After my car wreck, I told myself I wouldn't show weakness. I'd made a really dumb mistake and gotten my car totaled and myself hurt; I didn't need to humiliate myself anymore by asking others to help me. I wasn't crippled or brain-damaged or anything serious like that, so how could I ask for help anyway. Again, my mom tells me I should have let others help me. I guess I should have made up something, but that's seems like a sneaky way to become friends. That's not the point, though, because the point is to let others feel like you need them so that they feel like they have some sort of investment in you. I understand what my mom means, but after screwing up so badly, I just wanted to assert my independence, not resort to dependence on those around me.
Now I can easily admit that I do rely on my friends. I rely on them emotionally, which is potentially more humiliating than relying on them physically. Whenever I have a problem, I know my friends will listen and offer advice and be my rock and all of that. I don't go to them now, though, with all of this because it is so much "this." And I want to be alone for a while. I do rely on my friends, but I also know how ot rely on myself; I need time alone because I like to be with just me. Only very rarely do I grow tired of listening to myself. (Rav 4 just drove by.) I have friends and family who are here for me, but really, they can't listen to me all the time. Not as much as I'd like them to, but those are only during the times I feel like talking excessively. My dad probably doesn't believe that because I'm a real chatterbox every time I'm home; however, that's because I love being at home and don't get to talk to my family as often when I'm away at school. They'll get their earfuls this summer, I'm sure. They're sure. Mom's already got hers.
I hate what the end of the school year does to everything. Yes, it finally brings everything to a close, but it makes everyone really antsy. It sours conversations. Irene and I hung out and chatted and the Grille, a lovely activity we've started to share once a week. Yesterday, because of the brain-dead sluggishness of this time of year, we could barely retain interest in what we were saying. We both wanted to, and we tried and succeeded for different intervals. But we were tired. This campus is tired. But it's also busy. We can't all be busy and tired together like this; it makes us want to run away from each other and the things that usually make us happy because we need and crave something different. I love routine and construct it into my life, but even I know when it's time for a change, for a new routine. Yes, I'll miss Mayra and Irene and Lauren and all my other friends, but none of us want to be here right now. Especially not for finals (though it is definitely better to be here for them than to not be here for them). I wonder if I will cry on the last day?
On the ride home to Owensboro, I want to drive with my dad. We drove together at the beginning of the year, and I want to finish the year in the same fashion. I want to see if I feel different. It's so easy to feel different when I'm here on campus because I mold myself to my environment. When I return home, I will adapt to that lifestyle all over again, perhaps to the point that I forget for a time my college lifestyle. When classes begin again in the fall, I will revert to my student self and pick up where I left off. That's how I see myself as functioning: different selves for different situations. It's not exact or entirely true to my form, but it's not false either. I won't be the same me as I am at this moment; I'll have the summer under my belt (under my girdle?) and a slightly different perspective on life. Or a radically different perspective, but I'm not a radically changing person. I don't shed my skin each season; instead, I play chameleon and change my colors around to find what suits me best. I want to ride in the passenger seat of my car with my dad driving. Nostalgia will sweep over me and evoke the emotions I felt nine-and-a-half months ago when I left home for the first real time. (I'll be in a different car, of course, but my Rav is still a Toyota; so no interference there.) I'll remember what we talked about, and I'll remember the rain, and I'll remember all the tears I cried and all the snot I blew and all the tissues I threw on the floor. I'll remember my skin as it was then and compare it to the skin I find myself in on that day. Maybe they'll match up and prove this theory I have about myself. Or they'll clash, and I'll have a fervent desire to rip it off (or maybe to throw myself against a jagged surface and rub as fiercely as possible). I guess I'll just have to wait and see. This next week and a half is going to fly by before I realize it. Maybe. Hopefully. I just want to be home because I'm pretty sure things weren't so difficult there. They were, but they weren't. You know how it is.
I should go outside and call my brother. He took the AP European History test today, and I want to hear what he thought of it. I bet he didn't like it. Does anyone like that test? Well, AP tests are supposed to be painful; it doesn't matter which one you take. I kind of enjoyed the Stats test, though. Well, maybe I did. I don't recall perfectly. I know I liked the psychology test. When you study your butt off for something, the test becomes easy and thus unintentionally fun. Wow, around this time last year, I was studying for all my AP exams in the Owensboro library. Now I'm studying for all my finals here at Centre's library. I certainly didn't expect myself to be in this state. I knew I would be here at Centre, of course, but I didn't think I'd feel the way I do. I don't know if I feel bad. I know I'm not particularly happy. At least not at the moment. I'm not chronically unhappy, though. But am I happy more often than I am unhappy, or more often unhappy than happy? I really do want to talk to a counselor this summer.
Thursday I didn't have anything due for any class, so I let myself relax a bit on Wednesday. I popped one of my Evangelion DVDs into my laptop and kicked back and watched the two movies since the final episode of the series premiered on adult-swim on Saturday. So after I watch the movies, I work on some Japanese homework due Friday. Then, suddenly, I remember my humanities paper. The humanities paper due at four o'clock Wednesday afternoon. And it was five o'clock, an hour late. I jumped from my futon, dashed to my computer (it was three steps to my desk, but I dashed the distance, damn it), and e-mailed my paper to my professor with a brief explanation and apology. Then I nearly broke down. I'd finished the paper Tuesday night, and those adjustments were just the final tweaking; I had the rough draft written on Friday and all relatively major changes made Monday afternoon. Monday night I took it to the Writing Center for an objective opinion and to check for any minor mistakes I overlooked. After all that work, I would lose points because I couldn't turn the damn thing in on time. Ridiculous. Part of me realized my professor would be lenient since he knew I'd worked hard on it, but I still felt sick. I felt physically ill will self-loathing. And, honestly, even if I make a B on the paper, it won't ruin my A in the class. I overreacted. But I'm not sorry that I did because it provides incentive for me to not make stupid mistakes like that again. But I hate that I can't relax during the week. Is it so wrong for me to take a break and not devote every moment to my studies? I don't do that anyway; I always allow myself TV time at the end of the day, but that doesn't mean I should have to work all day and never relax. It ruins my focus. Is that just the way I'm programmed, or is there something wrong with me? Everyone thinks something plagues himself/herself. Society lets us use that as our excuse, as a scapegoat. I don't think I have anything horribly wrong with me, but I want to indulge a bit and talk about myself with someone and let them tell me it's not that bad. Of course I have problems, but no more so than anyone else. I just want to talk to someone I don't already know, gain a completely objective insight. Can insight ever be objective, though? No, but I want some feedback from someone who doesn't know me. I need to know how I come off to people because I focus on school too much to realize what sort of person I am to others. Somehow I am socially stunted; I don't have the sort of relationships that other people have. I have friends, but I'm don't achieve the same level of closeness, do I? It's not a competition, but it's cause for concern if I haven't formed bonds with people.
Okay, that might be going a bit too far, overstating a fairly minor issue in place of a larger one (though I don't know what that is). I have close friends. I have friends I will miss severely this summer, friends who feel as close to me as I do to them, friends who provide as much support for me as I do for them. Mayra and I really are kindred spirits, and that's strangely a very difficult thing for me to embrace. I actually didn't realize how close we are until a few weeks ago. She was looking for me; she needed to talk to me and needed comfort from me. I can't remember the last time someone actually wanted me to be his/her source of comfort. Usually, if I provide any comfort to anyone, it's simply based on convenience, from the mere fact that I was there at the right place and at the right time. That might not be true, but I always feel like that. People don't always say how they feel, so I don't know how they feel, especially how they feel about me. Mayra let me know, and that means so much to me.
And I have people I can go to when I need to open up. I wonder how often I open up to people? My mom says I need to open up more because that's how we form bonds with each other, but I instinctively wait for others to open up first because I don't want to be rejected or belittled. And I don't want others to somehow see me as weak. After my car wreck, I told myself I wouldn't show weakness. I'd made a really dumb mistake and gotten my car totaled and myself hurt; I didn't need to humiliate myself anymore by asking others to help me. I wasn't crippled or brain-damaged or anything serious like that, so how could I ask for help anyway. Again, my mom tells me I should have let others help me. I guess I should have made up something, but that's seems like a sneaky way to become friends. That's not the point, though, because the point is to let others feel like you need them so that they feel like they have some sort of investment in you. I understand what my mom means, but after screwing up so badly, I just wanted to assert my independence, not resort to dependence on those around me.
Now I can easily admit that I do rely on my friends. I rely on them emotionally, which is potentially more humiliating than relying on them physically. Whenever I have a problem, I know my friends will listen and offer advice and be my rock and all of that. I don't go to them now, though, with all of this because it is so much "this." And I want to be alone for a while. I do rely on my friends, but I also know how ot rely on myself; I need time alone because I like to be with just me. Only very rarely do I grow tired of listening to myself. (Rav 4 just drove by.) I have friends and family who are here for me, but really, they can't listen to me all the time. Not as much as I'd like them to, but those are only during the times I feel like talking excessively. My dad probably doesn't believe that because I'm a real chatterbox every time I'm home; however, that's because I love being at home and don't get to talk to my family as often when I'm away at school. They'll get their earfuls this summer, I'm sure. They're sure. Mom's already got hers.
I hate what the end of the school year does to everything. Yes, it finally brings everything to a close, but it makes everyone really antsy. It sours conversations. Irene and I hung out and chatted and the Grille, a lovely activity we've started to share once a week. Yesterday, because of the brain-dead sluggishness of this time of year, we could barely retain interest in what we were saying. We both wanted to, and we tried and succeeded for different intervals. But we were tired. This campus is tired. But it's also busy. We can't all be busy and tired together like this; it makes us want to run away from each other and the things that usually make us happy because we need and crave something different. I love routine and construct it into my life, but even I know when it's time for a change, for a new routine. Yes, I'll miss Mayra and Irene and Lauren and all my other friends, but none of us want to be here right now. Especially not for finals (though it is definitely better to be here for them than to not be here for them). I wonder if I will cry on the last day?
On the ride home to Owensboro, I want to drive with my dad. We drove together at the beginning of the year, and I want to finish the year in the same fashion. I want to see if I feel different. It's so easy to feel different when I'm here on campus because I mold myself to my environment. When I return home, I will adapt to that lifestyle all over again, perhaps to the point that I forget for a time my college lifestyle. When classes begin again in the fall, I will revert to my student self and pick up where I left off. That's how I see myself as functioning: different selves for different situations. It's not exact or entirely true to my form, but it's not false either. I won't be the same me as I am at this moment; I'll have the summer under my belt (under my girdle?) and a slightly different perspective on life. Or a radically different perspective, but I'm not a radically changing person. I don't shed my skin each season; instead, I play chameleon and change my colors around to find what suits me best. I want to ride in the passenger seat of my car with my dad driving. Nostalgia will sweep over me and evoke the emotions I felt nine-and-a-half months ago when I left home for the first real time. (I'll be in a different car, of course, but my Rav is still a Toyota; so no interference there.) I'll remember what we talked about, and I'll remember the rain, and I'll remember all the tears I cried and all the snot I blew and all the tissues I threw on the floor. I'll remember my skin as it was then and compare it to the skin I find myself in on that day. Maybe they'll match up and prove this theory I have about myself. Or they'll clash, and I'll have a fervent desire to rip it off (or maybe to throw myself against a jagged surface and rub as fiercely as possible). I guess I'll just have to wait and see. This next week and a half is going to fly by before I realize it. Maybe. Hopefully. I just want to be home because I'm pretty sure things weren't so difficult there. They were, but they weren't. You know how it is.