(no subject)
8:00 PM 3/13/2003
In turba *<--macron over a* requiesce. In turba *<--macron over a* requiescam.
That is pretty much all I have to say, although I'm probably going to launch into a long ramble in a minute here. Truly, though; if you understand those six words, you understand my feelings at the moment. No, I am not currently in a state of depression; I am merely in posession of an overworked brain, so please excuse my ramblings.
I am tired. Why is it that every single person in this world is told what is going to happen in the teenage years of their world, and yet they do nothing about it? Well, that last sentence made absolutley zippo sense. Let me try and re-word it. Take, for instance, any American teenager. From the age of about 10, constantly barraged with stories about what it is going to be like, going through the teenage years. The drugs, the sex, the alcohol. The feelings: constant depression, idescribable happiness, etc. Freedom. The days roll along, and the former carefree child is suddenly surrounded by this teenage life. They know what is happening to them. They know that they're merely suffering from a minor case of teenage depression. They know that they are experiencing the disobedience which they have been forewarned of. And yet, they are helpless.
I do not know if others have gone through this 'scenario.' I know I have, however. I read (past). I read (present). I knew what was happening. I knew approximately what was going to happen. I knew that in a few years, or perhaps gradually, I was going to feel rebellious. I knew that I was going to want to break rules. I knew that I was going to go through a little depression. I knew that I was going to pick up friends, lose friends. I knew that I was going to love, and be loved, and be broken. I knew that I was going to have confusing, conflicting feelings. And yet, when all of these-let's call them-'problems' begin cropping up everywhere, I do not know how to handle them. What is the use of telling us all the stories about what happened back in the day? What is the use of warning us? In the end, all we really have is ourselves. We have friends who are there for us, but truly, we are the only ones who can help ourselves. The friends can be there to listen, but no one can truly help, except the teenager themself.
I knew. I knew all along that I was just being another dumbass teenager. "Oh yeah- I remember those years; they were horrible...." I knew that I was going through what most, if not all teenagers go through. I knew that some survived, some didn't, and that you didn't just have to be strong to survive. You had to be tough, yet sensitive enough to feel the pain. What I did not anticipate was the scrambling of my poor brains. And yet, listen to me. I continue to speak in the past tense. 'Knew'... 'was'... damn it. Who am I deceiving? I'm still going through all that crap. Current. Nunc. I am still another dumbass teenager who is immature, and is still searching for herself. When I try to explain this to some of my 'friends,' they deny it. They say that I am not immature, but in truth, I really am. Discustingly immature. Sure, I have my strong points. I work hard if I feel like it, and when I actually DO work hard, I usually get things done. I've got good grades, and people think I'm smart. Fine. Let them think that. I don't care. Yet I know, deep inside, that I truly am not what they refer to as 'smart.' I just work my ass off to get the grades. What for? To please myself. And of course, you can never forget: to please my parents.
Some believe that I keep my grades up solely for my parents. Oftentimes, I get the feeling that my parents don't believe that I will keep my grades up for myself. I complain all the time about my grades. But truthfully, I care about my grades. If I received a B on my report card... I'm truthfully not quite sure what I would do. I know that receiving a B is not the end of the world, but I think in the past few months I have almost completely shoved everything which was previously in my life aside. I have tried to concentrate on my schoolwork, and yet I realize that I am falling behind. Whatever. What is done, is done.
~~~~~~~~~~
DEFINITIONS
Humans are constantly measuring, evaluating, comparing. Your heartbeat. Is it normal? No? You need to go see a doctor. Your grades. Are they A's? No? Work harder. Your mental capacity. Is it stable? No? Go check yourself into a psychaiatrist. Gawd! That guy's dick is HUGE!
Normal. A's. Stable. Huge. We compare all of these things, all the time. Sometimes it is subconsciously, sometimes it's consciously. No matter; we are constantly evaluating, comparing. And yet, for most things, we have no TRUE definiton of what is "normal" "stable" or "huge". ~laughter~ Sure, my "grades" example doesn't really fit this complaint. But look at these other words. What is the definition of "normal"? MERRIAM WEBSTER'S COLLEGIATE DICTIONARY: 2.A. ACCORDING WITH CONSTIGUTING, OR NOT DEVIATION FROM A NORM, RULE, OR PRINCIPLE. B. CONFORMING TO A TYPE, STANDARD, OR REGULAR PATTERN. How's that for a circular, vague definition? Humans in general are far too obsessed with evaluating things. And yet, look at me- blatant hypocrite! "far too obsessed" What the hell.
Reader, keep in mind that I am merely stating my opinions, without any plausible solutions. These are merely complaints which I have formulated in my own spare time. Perhaps I will come back and read this in twenty years and scoff; perhaps I won't. It doesn't matter.
****If you've gotten this far, thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings; if you have opinions, tell me bout them! :):)****
In turba *<--macron over a* requiesce. In turba *<--macron over a* requiescam.
That is pretty much all I have to say, although I'm probably going to launch into a long ramble in a minute here. Truly, though; if you understand those six words, you understand my feelings at the moment. No, I am not currently in a state of depression; I am merely in posession of an overworked brain, so please excuse my ramblings.
I am tired. Why is it that every single person in this world is told what is going to happen in the teenage years of their world, and yet they do nothing about it? Well, that last sentence made absolutley zippo sense. Let me try and re-word it. Take, for instance, any American teenager. From the age of about 10, constantly barraged with stories about what it is going to be like, going through the teenage years. The drugs, the sex, the alcohol. The feelings: constant depression, idescribable happiness, etc. Freedom. The days roll along, and the former carefree child is suddenly surrounded by this teenage life. They know what is happening to them. They know that they're merely suffering from a minor case of teenage depression. They know that they are experiencing the disobedience which they have been forewarned of. And yet, they are helpless.
I do not know if others have gone through this 'scenario.' I know I have, however. I read (past). I read (present). I knew what was happening. I knew approximately what was going to happen. I knew that in a few years, or perhaps gradually, I was going to feel rebellious. I knew that I was going to want to break rules. I knew that I was going to go through a little depression. I knew that I was going to pick up friends, lose friends. I knew that I was going to love, and be loved, and be broken. I knew that I was going to have confusing, conflicting feelings. And yet, when all of these-let's call them-'problems' begin cropping up everywhere, I do not know how to handle them. What is the use of telling us all the stories about what happened back in the day? What is the use of warning us? In the end, all we really have is ourselves. We have friends who are there for us, but truly, we are the only ones who can help ourselves. The friends can be there to listen, but no one can truly help, except the teenager themself.
I knew. I knew all along that I was just being another dumbass teenager. "Oh yeah- I remember those years; they were horrible...." I knew that I was going through what most, if not all teenagers go through. I knew that some survived, some didn't, and that you didn't just have to be strong to survive. You had to be tough, yet sensitive enough to feel the pain. What I did not anticipate was the scrambling of my poor brains. And yet, listen to me. I continue to speak in the past tense. 'Knew'... 'was'... damn it. Who am I deceiving? I'm still going through all that crap. Current. Nunc. I am still another dumbass teenager who is immature, and is still searching for herself. When I try to explain this to some of my 'friends,' they deny it. They say that I am not immature, but in truth, I really am. Discustingly immature. Sure, I have my strong points. I work hard if I feel like it, and when I actually DO work hard, I usually get things done. I've got good grades, and people think I'm smart. Fine. Let them think that. I don't care. Yet I know, deep inside, that I truly am not what they refer to as 'smart.' I just work my ass off to get the grades. What for? To please myself. And of course, you can never forget: to please my parents.
Some believe that I keep my grades up solely for my parents. Oftentimes, I get the feeling that my parents don't believe that I will keep my grades up for myself. I complain all the time about my grades. But truthfully, I care about my grades. If I received a B on my report card... I'm truthfully not quite sure what I would do. I know that receiving a B is not the end of the world, but I think in the past few months I have almost completely shoved everything which was previously in my life aside. I have tried to concentrate on my schoolwork, and yet I realize that I am falling behind. Whatever. What is done, is done.
~~~~~~~~~~
DEFINITIONS
Humans are constantly measuring, evaluating, comparing. Your heartbeat. Is it normal? No? You need to go see a doctor. Your grades. Are they A's? No? Work harder. Your mental capacity. Is it stable? No? Go check yourself into a psychaiatrist. Gawd! That guy's dick is HUGE!
Normal. A's. Stable. Huge. We compare all of these things, all the time. Sometimes it is subconsciously, sometimes it's consciously. No matter; we are constantly evaluating, comparing. And yet, for most things, we have no TRUE definiton of what is "normal" "stable" or "huge". ~laughter~ Sure, my "grades" example doesn't really fit this complaint. But look at these other words. What is the definition of "normal"? MERRIAM WEBSTER'S COLLEGIATE DICTIONARY: 2.A. ACCORDING WITH CONSTIGUTING, OR NOT DEVIATION FROM A NORM, RULE, OR PRINCIPLE. B. CONFORMING TO A TYPE, STANDARD, OR REGULAR PATTERN. How's that for a circular, vague definition? Humans in general are far too obsessed with evaluating things. And yet, look at me- blatant hypocrite! "far too obsessed" What the hell.
Reader, keep in mind that I am merely stating my opinions, without any plausible solutions. These are merely complaints which I have formulated in my own spare time. Perhaps I will come back and read this in twenty years and scoff; perhaps I won't. It doesn't matter.
****If you've gotten this far, thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings; if you have opinions, tell me bout them! :):)****