This is what my Theatre notes look like...
Sometimes it takes more work to fail a class than it does to actually pass it. If I spent just half of the time I spend worrying about failing actually doing the work for the class I would be passing. I should just major in failing. It is what I am best at. Make that my career. A full time profession. Why do I have to focus so much on the few things that suck in life rather than the many small good things? I know why, because it's easier. And after all I am always up for taking the easy road. It's paved and smooth. The bumps on the hard road just make my head hurt. I'm sure once this semester is over (41 one fucking days) I will be ready and excited to go home and just work and make money and not have to worry about school for a month. And I bet three weeks into that break I will being to get excited for the new semester. My motivation will suddenly reappear because it will be new classes and next semester WILL be different. I can also tell you that three more weeks into the new semester my motivation will have disappeared. I will begin to complain about having to work all the time. I will still be broke, I will still have no one to spend my time with. The friends I have will still suck monkey balls. I will find something to complain about, dont worry. Because I am not only a full blown failure, I am a bonified pessimist. The worst kind of pessimist too, the kind that pretends to see the glass half full. I can play mind games with the best of them. I know I play mind games with myself, but I still put up with it. Why can't I be happy, and if not happy, at least content, my life. There are just as many good things as bad. Maybe it is that tumor in my brain, it affects my ability to be an optimist. Maybe I just want attention, I mean dosen't everyone in some way need attention. Maybe I just really don't care what anyone thinks enough to smile for real. I know what it is, but I won't tell anyone. I have good days and I have bad days, so does everyone else. I just need to get over myself. Is it bad that I do not hesitate to admit that i am just really genually a spoiled, stubborn, selfish, jealous, person? I'm not at all proud of those traits, but it is the truth. What is the point in trying to hide or deny it if it is the truth? There is no point. I really don't see the point to anything, happiness.sadness.optimisism.pessimissim.anything.nothing. How come people are ridiculed for being selfish. No one really cares about anyone else when it acutally come right fucking down to it. Sure many people say they would take a bullet for the ones they love because they care about them that much. But the only thing that lets those people say that in the end is that little fear they have of living their life without that person. If they take the bullet they will not have to live without the person they care so much for. See the selfishness in that? I do. I say do whatever you want to fill your time. Maybe me being this person who is so emoitional about things is just a way to amuse myself and fill my time. Maybe I pretend to feel, just because I am to scared not to feel. I could go back through everday of my life and tell you excatly why I feel the way I do about everything. I could tell you what moment in my past made me hate myself. I could tell you why I can't hug anyone but guys. I could tell you why I am one of the most jealous people ever. I could tell you why I won't show people my true emotions when they ask me point blank. I can tell you why the people I care most about in life are the ones I hide my feelings from. I can tell you why i'm such a stubborn person. I can tell you why if you do something horrible to me, and ask for forgivness I will give it to you, no matter what. I can also tell you why if you do something horrible to the people I care most about, and ask for forgivness from me, even if they have forgiven you, I will never forgive you. I can tell you the exact sitiuation I was put in when I was 5 that makes me hate the things I hate. My long term memory is the only thing that I am sure of. I can remember things I thought about when I was 4 years old. But if I just met you I won't remember your name until our 3rd encounter. Ask me why and I will tell you why. I can tell you why I won't let myself believe in anything. I can tell you why I don't want to belive in anything. I can tell you why I don't want children. I can tell you why I let myself get so down, when I know I could be sitting here happier than a fucking duck. I can tell you these things if you ask. But I bet I won't. And there is a reson for that.