what a boring day
It seems as though I should write something, so I will.
Who am I writing to? Should I imagine I'm writing to an audience, or should I just write to myself? I'm not really sure to be honest. Either way I feel a little queer. I suppose that's why I don't like doing these things; writing entries makes me feel very strange, very uncomfortable. I feel a little melodramatic, very vain, a little liberated, and a little pathetic. I have spent too much time away from work. I'd rather be swamped and immersed in the kind of stress term papers bring than mentally (and eventually even emotionally) stagnant. I suppose when I'm really busy I feel completely liberated from the confines of my mind, my body (not meant too spiritually in this context), whereas when I have nothing academic to keep my mind occupied I feel horribly frustrated. I always end up getting really creative at the end of christmas. I have the sudden almost inexplicable urge to compose or write or read constantly. I start to feel frustrated and moody and everything and anything can set me off. I finally start to get really depressed, and begin to question happiness and self-worth. It isn't a very nice time for me. I'm not saying I hate breaks altogether. I love having a couple weeks off; I needed it (as does everyone), but more than two weeks is bad news for me. Summer can be atrocious.
Enough tears. I'm not as bad as I was a few years ago. There's nothing worse than being caught up in the self for too long; it's an utter waste of time, a waste of a human being. Depression's most powerful weapon is its ability to destroy empathy. At least that's what I think anyway.
My beard is getting really big. Starting to get uncomfortable. I should definitely trim it soon. I'm tired of it weighing down the rest of my face.
I've been really upset lately at seeing my friends' continued problems, though I suppose that my frustrations lie in the fact that my friends' problems are what I perceive as their problems. I often try not to see them as such, but I'm not very good at it. not as empathic as I'd like to be, although I'd like to be them, to know their exact thoughts, and that's impossible.
T's relationship with Mal never leaves my mind for a considerable length of time. I wish I knew what was going on; his feelings are so complex. At times, he seems ready to rid himself of the whole situation; being ignorant (by choice) of one half of her life must be hell. At other times he seems content with the attention he is getting from her, from the relationship he does have. I wonder if he would still have the same relationship with her if he found a new girlfriend. Oh well. As long as he doesn't perceive his situation as a problem. Just be happy T.
It seems like Billy has been getting more upset lately, more sensitive than normal. He's been "cracking down" on any of our usual digs on him being Mexican. I suppose they have become taxing on him, and I guess really there is some kind of intent behind them, but it has much more to do with his place in the social circle than it does with his ethnicity, and maybe that's what's really bothering him. Maybe a couple weeks of space will help. That's probably true.
Oh well, enough babbling. There, I wrote another entry.
Who am I writing to? Should I imagine I'm writing to an audience, or should I just write to myself? I'm not really sure to be honest. Either way I feel a little queer. I suppose that's why I don't like doing these things; writing entries makes me feel very strange, very uncomfortable. I feel a little melodramatic, very vain, a little liberated, and a little pathetic. I have spent too much time away from work. I'd rather be swamped and immersed in the kind of stress term papers bring than mentally (and eventually even emotionally) stagnant. I suppose when I'm really busy I feel completely liberated from the confines of my mind, my body (not meant too spiritually in this context), whereas when I have nothing academic to keep my mind occupied I feel horribly frustrated. I always end up getting really creative at the end of christmas. I have the sudden almost inexplicable urge to compose or write or read constantly. I start to feel frustrated and moody and everything and anything can set me off. I finally start to get really depressed, and begin to question happiness and self-worth. It isn't a very nice time for me. I'm not saying I hate breaks altogether. I love having a couple weeks off; I needed it (as does everyone), but more than two weeks is bad news for me. Summer can be atrocious.
Enough tears. I'm not as bad as I was a few years ago. There's nothing worse than being caught up in the self for too long; it's an utter waste of time, a waste of a human being. Depression's most powerful weapon is its ability to destroy empathy. At least that's what I think anyway.
My beard is getting really big. Starting to get uncomfortable. I should definitely trim it soon. I'm tired of it weighing down the rest of my face.
I've been really upset lately at seeing my friends' continued problems, though I suppose that my frustrations lie in the fact that my friends' problems are what I perceive as their problems. I often try not to see them as such, but I'm not very good at it. not as empathic as I'd like to be, although I'd like to be them, to know their exact thoughts, and that's impossible.
T's relationship with Mal never leaves my mind for a considerable length of time. I wish I knew what was going on; his feelings are so complex. At times, he seems ready to rid himself of the whole situation; being ignorant (by choice) of one half of her life must be hell. At other times he seems content with the attention he is getting from her, from the relationship he does have. I wonder if he would still have the same relationship with her if he found a new girlfriend. Oh well. As long as he doesn't perceive his situation as a problem. Just be happy T.
It seems like Billy has been getting more upset lately, more sensitive than normal. He's been "cracking down" on any of our usual digs on him being Mexican. I suppose they have become taxing on him, and I guess really there is some kind of intent behind them, but it has much more to do with his place in the social circle than it does with his ethnicity, and maybe that's what's really bothering him. Maybe a couple weeks of space will help. That's probably true.
Oh well, enough babbling. There, I wrote another entry.