According to Thales, the first principle of nature is water for wet things.
So, I have officially had some sort of psychotic break.
I went home a couple days ago after having a particularly good day--I knew my answers, I had everything settled, I wasn't late for things, I did some ballad work, I talked to Νικομηδες, and then I went home. Upon arriving home, I crashed onto my bed and wept for three hours.
I'm still not quite sure why.
They were raw, uninhibited, wracking sobs (very unattractive!) and after I had exhausted my eyes and my lungs, I did the only thing I could think to do when I feel completely lost, confused, and miserable.
I called my mommy. She's apparently done the exact same thing (when she was nineteen, going to school, getting engaged, and at a loss with life). So she says it's a stress thing. It gets set off by one minor incident, one even subconscious thing, and then the whole world crumbles like a house of cards. I have a whole new set of things to tell my psychiatrist now. I'm frightened by how much I'm like my mother.
I think I found a grey hair yesterday. It could have been a really blonde one (it was very thin, and I know that my blonde hairs are thinner than my dark hairs, and that my mother's hair got thicker when it greyed), but it looked grey.
So now I don't know where I am or where I'm going or what I am or what I might become, or anything really. I an utter mess of busy-body feelings all swirling, whirling, crashing, and fleeing from each other.
Studying philosophy, in ancient Greek or French or otherwise, is not helping.
I was recruited into the wind ensemble yesterday. So now I don't have Tuesday or Thursday evenings to myself. However, were it not for the time constraints on my language(s), this wouldn't be so bad. I do find that playing music is one of the few things that lets me relax because I'm so intensely focused on one minor thing. So maybe the business of having too many extraneous classes will work out okay because music and dancing and aikido will be things that help me focus on something that isn't the mess that is my life, and is, in fact, contained within a time and space of comprehension.
I was proud of the fact that I understood Derrida more than I had originally thought. Of course maybe I'm just the only one to say things in my literary criticism class. In any case, Πλατονιδες found it most impressive. He borrowed my notes (he was sick on Tuesday). I correct myself though--he has green eyes. Lovely, clear green eyes, like some sort of lithe, dark cat. He is very pretty, and I enjoy the fact that he talks to me. It makes me feel a little bit like I have hope of passing as a sort of normal person.
I asked a certain Professor Lindheim if she knew stuff about writing a senior honours thesis for the English department in relation to classics, and I got into Latin 1 instead. Go figure. I'm no longer vacuuming hallways in the morning as a result--instead, I'm parsing verbs. I work in the afternoons. I'll only be making $75 a week (including work I'll be doing on weekends), but it's at least something. And I get to sleep two more hours (some days).
No word yet on the thesis. I'll be e-mailing Professor Rose about heading the project. I really hope to get Professor Helgerson, but he probably won't be taking students on any time soon.
"What do you do with a BA in English?/It sucks to be me" from Avenue Q just came on my iTunes. Oh, relevance.
I went home a couple days ago after having a particularly good day--I knew my answers, I had everything settled, I wasn't late for things, I did some ballad work, I talked to Νικομηδες, and then I went home. Upon arriving home, I crashed onto my bed and wept for three hours.
I'm still not quite sure why.
They were raw, uninhibited, wracking sobs (very unattractive!) and after I had exhausted my eyes and my lungs, I did the only thing I could think to do when I feel completely lost, confused, and miserable.
I called my mommy. She's apparently done the exact same thing (when she was nineteen, going to school, getting engaged, and at a loss with life). So she says it's a stress thing. It gets set off by one minor incident, one even subconscious thing, and then the whole world crumbles like a house of cards. I have a whole new set of things to tell my psychiatrist now. I'm frightened by how much I'm like my mother.
I think I found a grey hair yesterday. It could have been a really blonde one (it was very thin, and I know that my blonde hairs are thinner than my dark hairs, and that my mother's hair got thicker when it greyed), but it looked grey.
So now I don't know where I am or where I'm going or what I am or what I might become, or anything really. I an utter mess of busy-body feelings all swirling, whirling, crashing, and fleeing from each other.
Studying philosophy, in ancient Greek or French or otherwise, is not helping.
I was recruited into the wind ensemble yesterday. So now I don't have Tuesday or Thursday evenings to myself. However, were it not for the time constraints on my language(s), this wouldn't be so bad. I do find that playing music is one of the few things that lets me relax because I'm so intensely focused on one minor thing. So maybe the business of having too many extraneous classes will work out okay because music and dancing and aikido will be things that help me focus on something that isn't the mess that is my life, and is, in fact, contained within a time and space of comprehension.
I was proud of the fact that I understood Derrida more than I had originally thought. Of course maybe I'm just the only one to say things in my literary criticism class. In any case, Πλατονιδες found it most impressive. He borrowed my notes (he was sick on Tuesday). I correct myself though--he has green eyes. Lovely, clear green eyes, like some sort of lithe, dark cat. He is very pretty, and I enjoy the fact that he talks to me. It makes me feel a little bit like I have hope of passing as a sort of normal person.
I asked a certain Professor Lindheim if she knew stuff about writing a senior honours thesis for the English department in relation to classics, and I got into Latin 1 instead. Go figure. I'm no longer vacuuming hallways in the morning as a result--instead, I'm parsing verbs. I work in the afternoons. I'll only be making $75 a week (including work I'll be doing on weekends), but it's at least something. And I get to sleep two more hours (some days).
No word yet on the thesis. I'll be e-mailing Professor Rose about heading the project. I really hope to get Professor Helgerson, but he probably won't be taking students on any time soon.
"What do you do with a BA in English?/It sucks to be me" from Avenue Q just came on my iTunes. Oh, relevance.