. . . . . entries for 31.1.09 . . . . .
I have this problem with school: when I realize that it is completely constructed, a contrived apparatus through which we are meant to learn but not genuinely contribute, I get discouraged. I hate the thought of being patronized by professors and other elders because I'm a student. I hate the thought of writing or thinking meaningless things. But what else can I do? I am a student, after all, and in need of education before I can make informed contributions myself.
I do not know how I am going to survive the next two years so aware of how young and impotent I am, especially now that I feel transformed in body to a 13-year-old. I can't take myself seriously, not for more than a few seconds. How could I expect anyone else to? How could I expect, furthermore, anyone to want to look at me or be around me? The substance of me hasn't changed much due to these necessary-evil braces, but I didn't like me that much in the first place. They sure as hell don't help. I can hardly believe I have the stupid things. How absolutely absurd. I'm 19. I may be young but I'm not that young.
At the same time, in so many ways, these are supposed to be the best years of my life, of our lives. I am missing things. I fear I'm missing everything. My surroundings only occasionally lift me up, and usually just jerk me around. Are there people, are there things that would change that about this place for me? I don't know. It seems that, the better I know a person, the more critical I am of him or her. If I knew more people, I worry my sort of localized misanthropy would only broaden.
I have no clue if my classes this semester, as a whole, will be any good. I need to believe enough to make my WWS app work, because I honestly think a PSY major would target things just enough off my interests to drive me insane - not to mention the subject's inherent tendency to drive its student insane - and I am dubious about sociology. I want reality, but without the moronic errors I gather most college students make. I don't know if that reality exists. Without a book, I may be reading myself into a fantasy from which I cannot recover.
I won't be a former sorority girl regretting that she didn't take her education more seriously. What if I'm a recluse regretting that I didn't get "just give in, have a drink and shake some hands" - or something, at least, less reclusive, less set up to fail?
come home?
.:people:.
{ting}
she looks like the real thing
{mari}
out and about
[kelsey]
THIS IS AMERICA
{yianni}
stop being depressed
{alisa}
other
[shannon]
close and far
{frank}
islands where no islands should go
[cassie]
eating knowledge
{colin}
my dm
[emily]
shoulder to the wheel
[brian]
nostalgic for fantasy
[nicole]
industry insider
{elle}
angry enviro
[matt]
never heard of miyazaki
[pirate dan]
are you reading this?
[olga]
distracted
[messiah dan]
messiah/believer
{max}
approach focus
[natalie]
wait a minute
[susan]
solitude
{greg}
manbeargreg
.:past:.
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.:skin:.
turtles! turtles! by araglas
(heavily modified by yours truly)