(no subject)
This morning I checked my grades for my first college semester only to discover that...(drumroll)....my GPA is exactly the same as it was in high school. Okay, .03 different (higher, actually), but with that number of digits I don't think it really matters. On the one hand, this is a good thing, because college classes are harder in many ways than high school ones. On the other hand, unlike in high school I wasn't taking courses in subjects I hated or was bad at, or even disliked, so I really have no excuse for not doing well. Right now I'm ecstatically glad that I didn't fail anything, or get below a 3.0 for that matter, but I'm also thinking that I have to do better next semester. I came to this school because of the academics, because I felt like this was where I could get the best possible education. My parents are paying an obscene amount of money for me to get the best possible education. The fact that I'm not, as evidenced by these grades, is a problem.
For the sake of my mental health, I'm also going to try and cut sugar out of my diet. Not easy, but lately I've been hit with this intense depression, like I'm drowning or dying and just cannot deal with the world or life or other people. All I want is to curl up and sleep forever. It's not a constant thing, but it happens almost daily. Several different sources have linked sugar to depression, so I'm hoping not eating it will help. The only problem is that I'm practically addicted to sweets.
I've been going through some old zines I got when I was 15 and suicidal. They're written by emo kids, lesbians, anarchists, new mothers and in one case, a Women's Studies class at Hampshire. I don't remember what they say until I pick each one up, feel the pages between my fingers, and then I hardly have to bother reading them. Their words are already in my head: poems about eating disorders and quitting smoking, lists of cures for depression and a how-to guide to graffiti, among other things. They're all angry and despairing and cynically hopeful, and I have no trouble figuring out why I found them so comforting. Find them so comforting.
For the sake of my mental health, I'm also going to try and cut sugar out of my diet. Not easy, but lately I've been hit with this intense depression, like I'm drowning or dying and just cannot deal with the world or life or other people. All I want is to curl up and sleep forever. It's not a constant thing, but it happens almost daily. Several different sources have linked sugar to depression, so I'm hoping not eating it will help. The only problem is that I'm practically addicted to sweets.
I've been going through some old zines I got when I was 15 and suicidal. They're written by emo kids, lesbians, anarchists, new mothers and in one case, a Women's Studies class at Hampshire. I don't remember what they say until I pick each one up, feel the pages between my fingers, and then I hardly have to bother reading them. Their words are already in my head: poems about eating disorders and quitting smoking, lists of cures for depression and a how-to guide to graffiti, among other things. They're all angry and despairing and cynically hopeful, and I have no trouble figuring out why I found them so comforting. Find them so comforting.