(no subject)
Despite the (usual) miserable odds surrounding me, I am, for once, hopeful, optimistic. And I'm growing, too- if I went back and talked to me from September, I wouldn't recognize myself except for my face.
Hopefully, things will only continue to get better, despite the fact that I really am in a very unhappy situation. I am not unhappy myself, though- I am content. Maybe someday, I really will be happy.
Knock on wood.
To speak more specifically, I have turned in my two-weeks to Target, not because I dislike working there (I actually quite enjoy it) or because I'm having issues with my employers/coworkers/am generally anal and whiny about it. I'm very sad that I'm going to be leaving Target, but I don't really regret it. Right now, I simply don't have time to work. Sad though it is, it is also true: as of the general time frame, I have too many things to worry about, like...
*college
*getting good grades this last semester
*commitments to my family
*orchestra contest season
*dance contest season
*escapade season/upcoming "crunch time"
*graduation obligations
*social encumberances I need to take care of
and though that last one shouldn't be important, it is. I suppose that, technically, I COULD continue on with working, too, but I don't really want to. I like the income and all, but right now, it really isn't worth it. I get too little sleep and am far too stressed as it is anyhow.
Tomorrow I'm working 10-5. After that, who knows what I'm doing? Perhaps I will go to the movies... on my own. Perhaps I will go shopping, though I think I'm doing that on monday with SOPHIAAA. Perhaps I will come home and work on my room, which is in unfortunate condition at the moment.
Perhaps I'll die in a car accident on my way home. Who knows? All I can say about THAT, though, is that I am not particularly fond of the prospect of having my life ripped away from me. True, it sort of sucks at the moment, but that doesn't mean I won't be able to make it better.
Eeesh, I don't even want to think about it.
You know, here's the funny thing. Being crippled, I could most likely tolerate: as long as it was below my legs, I might be able to play cello still. If it was above my legs, I might have a way to write. True enough that I would be utterly miserable, and yes, I might wish I were dead, but I would still be able to continue on with my life, though things would be seriously altered. My hopes and dreams would all shift, but at least I would still be able to hope, to dream...
Quoth Hamlet: "To die, to sleep-
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil
Must give us pause."
According to Mr. S, I would still be able dream if I were dead, but it would be a different sort of dream, and I think I would rather stay where I am right now, thank you very much.
At least I'm finally getting a grip on my life and am starting to manage it properly. At least I, unlike others, seem to be wising up. But then again, this might all be wishful thinking. My whole mindset might be wishful thinking. And call this wishful thinking, too, but I hope it's not. I like the fact that I'm not bogged down by constant sorrow (so much) anymore. Yeah, the sorrow is there, yeah, I do have my periodic throes of dreadful depression, but I'm not upset about being depressed from time to time. I figure, depression is like the winter, or school, or annoying people, or anything really negative in life: it just makes you appreciate the good times even more. If one went through life with nothing but sunny days, one would not be able to appreciate them, because how can they possibly understand the goodness of a sunny day when they've never seen miserable freezing rain?
That's my philosophy.
Now I'm going to go do something more interesting, or rather, not: I'm going to fold laundry and put on some classical music and tackle the particularly suspicious looking pile in the corner.
Later, all.
Hopefully, things will only continue to get better, despite the fact that I really am in a very unhappy situation. I am not unhappy myself, though- I am content. Maybe someday, I really will be happy.
Knock on wood.
To speak more specifically, I have turned in my two-weeks to Target, not because I dislike working there (I actually quite enjoy it) or because I'm having issues with my employers/coworkers/am generally anal and whiny about it. I'm very sad that I'm going to be leaving Target, but I don't really regret it. Right now, I simply don't have time to work. Sad though it is, it is also true: as of the general time frame, I have too many things to worry about, like...
*college
*getting good grades this last semester
*commitments to my family
*orchestra contest season
*dance contest season
*escapade season/upcoming "crunch time"
*graduation obligations
*social encumberances I need to take care of
and though that last one shouldn't be important, it is. I suppose that, technically, I COULD continue on with working, too, but I don't really want to. I like the income and all, but right now, it really isn't worth it. I get too little sleep and am far too stressed as it is anyhow.
Tomorrow I'm working 10-5. After that, who knows what I'm doing? Perhaps I will go to the movies... on my own. Perhaps I will go shopping, though I think I'm doing that on monday with SOPHIAAA. Perhaps I will come home and work on my room, which is in unfortunate condition at the moment.
Perhaps I'll die in a car accident on my way home. Who knows? All I can say about THAT, though, is that I am not particularly fond of the prospect of having my life ripped away from me. True, it sort of sucks at the moment, but that doesn't mean I won't be able to make it better.
Eeesh, I don't even want to think about it.
You know, here's the funny thing. Being crippled, I could most likely tolerate: as long as it was below my legs, I might be able to play cello still. If it was above my legs, I might have a way to write. True enough that I would be utterly miserable, and yes, I might wish I were dead, but I would still be able to continue on with my life, though things would be seriously altered. My hopes and dreams would all shift, but at least I would still be able to hope, to dream...
Quoth Hamlet: "To die, to sleep-
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil
Must give us pause."
According to Mr. S, I would still be able dream if I were dead, but it would be a different sort of dream, and I think I would rather stay where I am right now, thank you very much.
At least I'm finally getting a grip on my life and am starting to manage it properly. At least I, unlike others, seem to be wising up. But then again, this might all be wishful thinking. My whole mindset might be wishful thinking. And call this wishful thinking, too, but I hope it's not. I like the fact that I'm not bogged down by constant sorrow (so much) anymore. Yeah, the sorrow is there, yeah, I do have my periodic throes of dreadful depression, but I'm not upset about being depressed from time to time. I figure, depression is like the winter, or school, or annoying people, or anything really negative in life: it just makes you appreciate the good times even more. If one went through life with nothing but sunny days, one would not be able to appreciate them, because how can they possibly understand the goodness of a sunny day when they've never seen miserable freezing rain?
That's my philosophy.
Now I'm going to go do something more interesting, or rather, not: I'm going to fold laundry and put on some classical music and tackle the particularly suspicious looking pile in the corner.
Later, all.