Journals76
Newest
la dee da dee da
1 min read
Here's a new pointless journal just to clear out the old one.
Weeeeeeeeeeee.
-- Babs
Weeeeeeeeeeee.
-- Babs
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Today I had the interesting experience of not only explaining androgyny to some close-minded, immature, and tactless "friends" at lunch today at school, but also of "coming out" as androgynous, myself. Well, MOSTLY androgynous. Moreso than entirely female, but whatever. There's a vague term for it, "femmeandro" but that just sounds like the name of a shitty band so yeah.
(but that's just sort of a lame attempt at a joke/explanation of why I don't say I'm femmeandro, not an insult and--anyway)
Basically, summary of what happened:
Lunch table next to us is full of freshmen. It doesn't really grab our attention until a few of them start joking around and one of them laughs and falls dramatically to the floor. I found it amusing. They were sort of an adorable freshman and I found the theatrics well-executed and funny.
However, two males at my table seemed utterly perplexed, and began to (really not very subtly) whisper and mouth the following to our table at large:
"Is that a boy or a girl?"
To which I aptly replied:
"It doesn't matter. He or she is androgynous, so let them alone."
But one of them kept pressing it. And LAUGHING and fucking STARING. This person (this adorable androgynous, good-humoured freshman) was RIGHT BEHIND HIM. So I glared at him and continued, cutting across his ridiculous and very obvious, blatant, and insensitive pointing, gawking, and chuckling:
"They are ANDROGYNOUS. So shut up. They're free to be whatever. It doesn't matter what their biological sex is. That's how they identify."
I could tell this kid was getting a little uncomfortable--they could feel the attention from barely a foot behind them. I intentionally said this stuff a bit louder so they would hear. I think it hit its mark, but maybe that's my hero complex talking.
But alas, this idiot CONTINUED TALKING ABOUT IT.
He IGNORED me and said, "No wait, that's definitely a girl. Pink socks."
So I fucking raged, basically.
"Seriously, SHUT UP. Can you have any respect for this person? THEY ARE ANDROGYNOUS, neither male nor female! And like PINK SOCKS decide anything? Really?"
His girlfriend turned to him and said, "Just stop talking; you're about to get your head ripped off."
And I said, "Could you have ANY sensitivity? Any respect? That's how I identify! I identify as androgynous!"
The girlfriend, who I'd had high hopes for, replies with, "You're not androgynous, Brandi."
...
I had to withhold the urge to shout, "I really don't think that's for YOU to decide."
Instead I calmly stated the following:
"You guys are cisgender--comfortable with your biology and physical body, and identifying with that body in your *mind*. I have always felt that I'm not entirely in line with my body. I don't reject it; I'm fine with it. But the pronouns and saying I'm *female* has always felt weird. And just like with gender in general, and sexuality, and even biological sex, androgyny is a SPECTRUM. You can be slightly more feminine or comfortable with being biologically female but still androgynous, or 'femmeandro', just as you can be slightly more masculine or comfortable being biologically male and still be androgynous."
And for good measure I added:
"I also love that this isn't the only androgynous person I've seen around. In fact, two freshman--that other one that I ADORE--have been. It's amazing. I'm glad that they feel comfortable with themselves and expressing who they are, dressing how they desire, and aren't afraid of showing or accepting that."
I refused to even look at the asshole who'd made fun of this kid, despite it being rather "quiet" and "subtle." I don't even remember what his face looked like after I'd finished speaking.
But it was a bit awkward because people around here (and in America in general) really don't know anything about how humans actually function and operate in their own heads and in the real world. So apparently this was interesting or shocking information somehow. I don't really know why it was shocking. I hate everything feminine, wish I could dress in suits cut for men, barely wear makeup, have always worn jeans and T-shirts, and feel no inclination to get involved in female drama or stereotypes. I also reject male obsessions, but, well, like I said--I'm cool with my biology.
Actually, example. A teacher of mine was goofing around today and talking about how kids are in middle school. His summary went as follows (but with excessive "acting stuff out" and impressions, etc):
Middle school girls: Always crying. Overly emotional. Confused. Huddled into groups that intimidated the boys. Unaware of how makeup and clothing works. Go from bland to furious within seconds.
Middle school boys: Smelly. Boring. Utterly confused about EVERYTHING. Terrified of girls. Farting all the time. Being disgusting and uncomfortable with everything in general. Obsessed with weird stuff but afraid to show it.
What did I do in middle school?
I moved from a school, grades 1 through 8, with a total of 68 kids, to a school of several hundred, in a fairly well-off neighbourhood. I'd never been to a school so large or so wealthy. Everyone was petty and just as my teacher described. And I wasn't. And it wasn't just a product of my environment--because there had been girls at my old school who were just the same way. But I was a bit of a social outcast and was capable of avoiding it.
But at this new middle school? It was infectious. It was EVERYWHERE. Everyone fought and lied and backstabbed for no other purpose than to just do it because they thought it was expected of them.
And the thing is, I never really succumbed to it. I did a few stupid things or got involved in some stuff, but in general? No, I didn't cry a lot. I didn't stand in huddles with other girls. I was as awkward as any other kid, no matter what gender--
AND WHY THE FUCK AM I TALKING ABOUT THIS?!
Jesus fuck. I'm really tired and just procrastinating and stuff that I have to do and so now I'm rambling and venting and shit and just--
Basically the point is, the pronouns "she" and "her" have always felt foreign. I don't remember the circumstances, but in the fourth grade someone referred to me that way and I sort of just cringed. I've ALWAYS felt that way. But I'm more uncomfortable with male pronouns. I can take the female ones, they don't really BOTHER me. But I just... I don't know. I just--I have an inkling of what other people feel like. And yeah. *sigh*
I think I was going to mention that only one other person at the table knew how I identified, seeing as I mentioned it at the end of the last school year, and he brought it up as a joke a bit later--completely in good humour, testing it out, seeing what was what--and he's left it alone ever since. Because it DOESN'T MATTER OR CHANGE WHO I AM OR HOW HE KNOWS ME.
I really just hate people who struggle to comprehend how some people exist in their heads. They don't have to fully understand it, they just have to accept it and let it happen and just...
Fuck. I should really delete like 90% of all of this. I mean, I've strayed so far from my main point. Whatever.
-- Babs
P.S.
I wonder how many times I used the word 'androgyny' in all of its forms.
P.P.S.
Yes, I'm a senior in high school who still packs lunch and eats in the cafeteria.
P.P.P.S.
Yeah, I'm fucking feeling angsty man. And it's totally (not) not ironic. WHAT OF IT.
P.P.P.P.S.
I realise that that kid might not have identified as androgynous, but they certainly appeared to be and I sort of was being hypocritical in using them to prove a point with this asshole. I sort of assumed--which is what he was doing with the pink socks--and it was rather stupid of me. However, I mostly tried to defend their right to look like neither or either gender as they so desired, and refrained from telling that moron what their biological sex most likely was, because it was irrelevant. I was being a bit presumptuous, but mostly I was just upset that he was being close-minded, and I seemed to have possibly taken it to the other extreme. Ah well. At least I had good intentions and the kid in question didn't necessarily hear everything we were saying. Also, everything I've typed above as to what he said and I said--not really taken down verbatim, as it happened. Just general ideas. I sort of got so upset that my memory seems to have blocked everything out except the anger. Wee!
Okay that's it.
(but that's just sort of a lame attempt at a joke/explanation of why I don't say I'm femmeandro, not an insult and--anyway)
Basically, summary of what happened:
Lunch table next to us is full of freshmen. It doesn't really grab our attention until a few of them start joking around and one of them laughs and falls dramatically to the floor. I found it amusing. They were sort of an adorable freshman and I found the theatrics well-executed and funny.
However, two males at my table seemed utterly perplexed, and began to (really not very subtly) whisper and mouth the following to our table at large:
"Is that a boy or a girl?"
To which I aptly replied:
"It doesn't matter. He or she is androgynous, so let them alone."
But one of them kept pressing it. And LAUGHING and fucking STARING. This person (this adorable androgynous, good-humoured freshman) was RIGHT BEHIND HIM. So I glared at him and continued, cutting across his ridiculous and very obvious, blatant, and insensitive pointing, gawking, and chuckling:
"They are ANDROGYNOUS. So shut up. They're free to be whatever. It doesn't matter what their biological sex is. That's how they identify."
I could tell this kid was getting a little uncomfortable--they could feel the attention from barely a foot behind them. I intentionally said this stuff a bit louder so they would hear. I think it hit its mark, but maybe that's my hero complex talking.
But alas, this idiot CONTINUED TALKING ABOUT IT.
He IGNORED me and said, "No wait, that's definitely a girl. Pink socks."
So I fucking raged, basically.
"Seriously, SHUT UP. Can you have any respect for this person? THEY ARE ANDROGYNOUS, neither male nor female! And like PINK SOCKS decide anything? Really?"
His girlfriend turned to him and said, "Just stop talking; you're about to get your head ripped off."
And I said, "Could you have ANY sensitivity? Any respect? That's how I identify! I identify as androgynous!"
The girlfriend, who I'd had high hopes for, replies with, "You're not androgynous, Brandi."
...
I had to withhold the urge to shout, "I really don't think that's for YOU to decide."
Instead I calmly stated the following:
"You guys are cisgender--comfortable with your biology and physical body, and identifying with that body in your *mind*. I have always felt that I'm not entirely in line with my body. I don't reject it; I'm fine with it. But the pronouns and saying I'm *female* has always felt weird. And just like with gender in general, and sexuality, and even biological sex, androgyny is a SPECTRUM. You can be slightly more feminine or comfortable with being biologically female but still androgynous, or 'femmeandro', just as you can be slightly more masculine or comfortable being biologically male and still be androgynous."
And for good measure I added:
"I also love that this isn't the only androgynous person I've seen around. In fact, two freshman--that other one that I ADORE--have been. It's amazing. I'm glad that they feel comfortable with themselves and expressing who they are, dressing how they desire, and aren't afraid of showing or accepting that."
I refused to even look at the asshole who'd made fun of this kid, despite it being rather "quiet" and "subtle." I don't even remember what his face looked like after I'd finished speaking.
But it was a bit awkward because people around here (and in America in general) really don't know anything about how humans actually function and operate in their own heads and in the real world. So apparently this was interesting or shocking information somehow. I don't really know why it was shocking. I hate everything feminine, wish I could dress in suits cut for men, barely wear makeup, have always worn jeans and T-shirts, and feel no inclination to get involved in female drama or stereotypes. I also reject male obsessions, but, well, like I said--I'm cool with my biology.
Actually, example. A teacher of mine was goofing around today and talking about how kids are in middle school. His summary went as follows (but with excessive "acting stuff out" and impressions, etc):
Middle school girls: Always crying. Overly emotional. Confused. Huddled into groups that intimidated the boys. Unaware of how makeup and clothing works. Go from bland to furious within seconds.
Middle school boys: Smelly. Boring. Utterly confused about EVERYTHING. Terrified of girls. Farting all the time. Being disgusting and uncomfortable with everything in general. Obsessed with weird stuff but afraid to show it.
What did I do in middle school?
I moved from a school, grades 1 through 8, with a total of 68 kids, to a school of several hundred, in a fairly well-off neighbourhood. I'd never been to a school so large or so wealthy. Everyone was petty and just as my teacher described. And I wasn't. And it wasn't just a product of my environment--because there had been girls at my old school who were just the same way. But I was a bit of a social outcast and was capable of avoiding it.
But at this new middle school? It was infectious. It was EVERYWHERE. Everyone fought and lied and backstabbed for no other purpose than to just do it because they thought it was expected of them.
And the thing is, I never really succumbed to it. I did a few stupid things or got involved in some stuff, but in general? No, I didn't cry a lot. I didn't stand in huddles with other girls. I was as awkward as any other kid, no matter what gender--
AND WHY THE FUCK AM I TALKING ABOUT THIS?!
Jesus fuck. I'm really tired and just procrastinating and stuff that I have to do and so now I'm rambling and venting and shit and just--
Basically the point is, the pronouns "she" and "her" have always felt foreign. I don't remember the circumstances, but in the fourth grade someone referred to me that way and I sort of just cringed. I've ALWAYS felt that way. But I'm more uncomfortable with male pronouns. I can take the female ones, they don't really BOTHER me. But I just... I don't know. I just--I have an inkling of what other people feel like. And yeah. *sigh*
I think I was going to mention that only one other person at the table knew how I identified, seeing as I mentioned it at the end of the last school year, and he brought it up as a joke a bit later--completely in good humour, testing it out, seeing what was what--and he's left it alone ever since. Because it DOESN'T MATTER OR CHANGE WHO I AM OR HOW HE KNOWS ME.
I really just hate people who struggle to comprehend how some people exist in their heads. They don't have to fully understand it, they just have to accept it and let it happen and just...
Fuck. I should really delete like 90% of all of this. I mean, I've strayed so far from my main point. Whatever.
-- Babs
P.S.
I wonder how many times I used the word 'androgyny' in all of its forms.
P.P.S.
Yes, I'm a senior in high school who still packs lunch and eats in the cafeteria.
P.P.P.S.
Yeah, I'm fucking feeling angsty man. And it's totally (not) not ironic. WHAT OF IT.
P.P.P.P.S.
I realise that that kid might not have identified as androgynous, but they certainly appeared to be and I sort of was being hypocritical in using them to prove a point with this asshole. I sort of assumed--which is what he was doing with the pink socks--and it was rather stupid of me. However, I mostly tried to defend their right to look like neither or either gender as they so desired, and refrained from telling that moron what their biological sex most likely was, because it was irrelevant. I was being a bit presumptuous, but mostly I was just upset that he was being close-minded, and I seemed to have possibly taken it to the other extreme. Ah well. At least I had good intentions and the kid in question didn't necessarily hear everything we were saying. Also, everything I've typed above as to what he said and I said--not really taken down verbatim, as it happened. Just general ideas. I sort of got so upset that my memory seems to have blocked everything out except the anger. Wee!
Okay that's it.
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well then
1 min read
I let all of the notifications pile up on here. I'm up to 363 new deviations to look at. I obviously don't have the patience for that and it's tempting to just delete the bulk of them without even looking.
But, I've posted two new poems. I haven't posted poems in a long while. It's a bit upsetting that I never really wrote anything over the summer. Glad to be back in Creative Writing to get those energies and whatnot flowing. I've even got an Advanced 2D Art class to keep up with. Huzzah! The artistic energy will be booming! Maybe.
I suppose that's it. I don't feel any excitement or urge to detail how the first two days of my senior year of high school went. So. Yeah.
-- Babs
P.S.
haha jk totes not feelin artistic n shit
But, I've posted two new poems. I haven't posted poems in a long while. It's a bit upsetting that I never really wrote anything over the summer. Glad to be back in Creative Writing to get those energies and whatnot flowing. I've even got an Advanced 2D Art class to keep up with. Huzzah! The artistic energy will be booming! Maybe.
I suppose that's it. I don't feel any excitement or urge to detail how the first two days of my senior year of high school went. So. Yeah.
-- Babs
P.S.
haha jk totes not feelin artistic n shit
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you know what I hate?
9 min read
About myself, in particular?
The fact that some stuff can leave me so emotionally drained that I'm completely incapable of doing ANYTHING for hours on end. I mean that literally.
For instance, nearly 10 hours ago, I got into a bit of back-and-forth emailing with a friend. It...wasn't pleasant. As I said before, emotionally draining.
My horrible mood rubbed off on my mum, and I holed myself up in my room for a bit to try and get over it. I was at least capable of amusing conversation a few hours later.
But now, I'm sitting here with an essay to write about Japanese internment camps, and I literally don't have the energy to care about it.
I care about it, I do--I think politics and war and discrimination and shitty conditions and having your life uprooted SUCK, and I care about it--and that's the fucking problem: I FUCKING CARE. And I don't have anything left in me to care WITH. I'm staring at the screen going, "How the fuck am I supposed to articulate this? How can I even begin to process this?"
And it's not just THAT. I'm about...12 lessons behind on a 30-lesson course that ends FRIDAY. I did a similar thing last "semester" with this online summer school garbage. I managed to complete the course roughly 14 hours before it ended, which was technically early. I got an A+. It was awesome.
Now? I've got a physical therapy appointment tomorrow, I've got this friend who--I'm not even going there, my stupid brother's here and being an asshole intermittently (alternating with 'absent' and 'irritating'), and I've got registration on Tuesday, and just--I just--I don't want to deal with. I CAN'T deal with it.
I mean, for fuck's sake--I'm having an emotional crisis over a five-paragraph, simple ESSAY. At 1:34 am! On a Sunday night! DURING THE SUMMER.
Sometime last week, I think it was, I got into a conversation (I say conversation because I don't have a word for "one person talking in a one-sided conversation then demanding to know why the other person isn't responding but not really giving them a chance to") with my brother. It was...what? Roughly 15 minutes, maybe. By the end, I was begging to just be let to go back to my room and do whatever it was I was doing.
I was reduced to fucking tears.
He does similar things to my mum--similar "conversations" because he's so certain that he knows best--that he knows EVERYTHING.
So I ended up writing a novel-length email to my mum. I could probably check and see exactly how many thousands of words it was, but I won't bother.
Went back-and-forth with that, as well.
And that whole "ordeal" that lasted roughly 15 minutes? I was so emotionally drained then, that I couldn't even bear the thought of reading. I resorted to staring mindlessly at walls and televisions.
For fuck's sake--scrolling through Tumblr and seeing amusing/lovely pictures is typically pretty mindless or uplifting, and I couldn't even convince myself to do THAT.
Just like I can't, right now.
I tried reading something to make myself feel a little better, but instead I just feel immensely guilty for not doing the stupid essay.
Then I look at the essay and--well, I already stated above why I can't even stand the thought of attempting it. And yet, I can't stand the thought of NOT doing it and allowing myself to essentially fail this course when it's SO GODDAMNED EASY.
And of course, I've backed myself into a corner--this is essentially all my fucking fault.
I fully accept that, but on top of everything else, that's crippling. CRIPPLING. Literally. I was shaking earlier, though whether that was immense hunger, insane sleeping schedules (14 hours--I mean, really?), or a residue of the intense stress that the email conversation from earlier caused me, I don't know. But there you have it.
I need to learn to cope with stress and responsibility.
Actually, no. I'm perfectly capable of handling the stuff that's interesting, directly beneficial or others or myself, amusing, or enlightening in some way.
Give me a shite online summer school course with half-informed pieces of textbook, idiotic videos, ridiculous essays about depressing topics? I'm hopeless. Right now, I can't even muster up the motivation to finish this course ahead of time to spite the "instructor".
I can't even do it to remove this pressure from my mum's shoulders.
I mean, it's bad enough I'm taking the course online--but if I can't even get an A+ for both semesters, how will that look to colleges?
And I'm taking both years of Spanish online, meanwhile one of the colleges I want to attend almost EXPECTS applicants to have FOUR YEARS of a foreign language.
I'm trying to work my way around that, right now...
And then the four years of science, thing... Jesus fuck.
Every time I think about it, the more it seems that any and all dreams and expectations I have for my future are stupid little daydreams that I've concocted out of some misplaced sense of grandeur--like I have a fucking God-complex or something. I'm a huge fucking elitist, in case you didn't know. Anyone who knows me personally on here has probably been unfortunate enough to have been witness to it at some point. I apologise. It's ugly and dislikes being controlled or tempered in any way.
My eyes burn. I don't know if that means I'm tired or what, but it hardly makes sense. I got 14 hours of sleep in 7-hour blocks, and I've barely been up for twelve hours, now. I've no right nor reason to be tired.
It's times like these that make me feel like I'm going to be utterly hopeless as an adult. All bark, no bite--and in some cases, no bark, either. I rely on other people and the structure of academia--then think myself better than it, disregard things that are important (or have been deemed important), dig myself into a giant hole doing so, and then whine and cry and complain.
I would say I need a giant wake-up call, a slap in the face, someone to put it to me in an unfeeling, logical, straightforward manner, but I'm so horrible with confrontation, conflict, and criticism, that I wouldn't be able to take it.
Basically, I need to work it out in my own time. That doesn't always work for the best, but it DOES typically work out. Not ALL things, but stuff like this? I buckle down, chastise myself (verbally like now, or in my head) and get shit done.
The main complaint of this whole thing was less about my being responsible (or severely irresponsible), and more about the fact that--
My tendency to get really emotionally worked up over stuff prevents me from being useful for hours (introverted tendency? read up on INFPs--it should explain it pretty well).
And then I have to wonder if I'm just blaming it on that and am actually being lazy. I don't actually know. Disturbing thought. Does that mean my blaming it on being emotionally drained is valid or no? I don't want to think about it.
I just need to write that stupid fucking essay about Japanese internment camps and accept the fact that I won't get an A on the goddamned thing.
Oh, speaking of which--
The last essay I turned in got a 95%. Why? Four points off for content ("you should've talked about the causes of the Great Depression more!" on an essay that was about a fictional personal account of how to COPE with the AFTER-EFFECTS of the Great Depression, not its fucking CAUSE), and one point off on conventions.
You've (presumably) read this entire journal post. Do you see any conventional errors? Any? No? You'd probably be right in saying so. The only things I don't typically catch are typos like "not"/"no".
It was an essay--it's safe to assume that I edited it a few times.
So what was the point-off for?
Because I'd capitalised mother and father. Why did I capitalise them? Because I was using them as PROPER NOUNS. I was referring to my fictional parents as Mother and Father. "Father says..." "I was talking to Mother and..."
And the stupid "instructor" took a whole fucking point off because she doesn't understand how grammar actually works. That's nice, isn't it?
Fuck this.
I need to write the essay.
Or lay in bed, stare at a wall, and cry and wallow in self-pity. Either one is about as productive as I could possibly hope to be, right now.
-- Babs
P.S.
I feel like clarifying something a little bit. That back-and-forth emailing with a friend that wasn't very pleasant? That wasn't petty "teenage girl drama". I don't do that shit. Hardly identify as enough of a girl (or petty American teenager) for that to even happen. Something a bit more trying, stressful, and emotional than "ohemgee ur such a bitch".
P.P.S.
Also, apologies for overusing the F-bomb in this post. It just sort of happened.
Update:
3:30 am and I'm having a bigger emotional crisis over this essay. EMOTIONAL crisis--I want to emphasise that. Not, "Holy shit I'm fucked. Damn stupid essay." But instead, I'm essentially having some sort of introspective, existential crisis. Caused by an essay.
I'm nearing a panic attack.
Someone please liberate me of any and all responsibilities and revoke my license to be a proper human being because clearly I'm not one and don't deserve to pretend to be.
The fact that some stuff can leave me so emotionally drained that I'm completely incapable of doing ANYTHING for hours on end. I mean that literally.
For instance, nearly 10 hours ago, I got into a bit of back-and-forth emailing with a friend. It...wasn't pleasant. As I said before, emotionally draining.
My horrible mood rubbed off on my mum, and I holed myself up in my room for a bit to try and get over it. I was at least capable of amusing conversation a few hours later.
But now, I'm sitting here with an essay to write about Japanese internment camps, and I literally don't have the energy to care about it.
I care about it, I do--I think politics and war and discrimination and shitty conditions and having your life uprooted SUCK, and I care about it--and that's the fucking problem: I FUCKING CARE. And I don't have anything left in me to care WITH. I'm staring at the screen going, "How the fuck am I supposed to articulate this? How can I even begin to process this?"
And it's not just THAT. I'm about...12 lessons behind on a 30-lesson course that ends FRIDAY. I did a similar thing last "semester" with this online summer school garbage. I managed to complete the course roughly 14 hours before it ended, which was technically early. I got an A+. It was awesome.
Now? I've got a physical therapy appointment tomorrow, I've got this friend who--I'm not even going there, my stupid brother's here and being an asshole intermittently (alternating with 'absent' and 'irritating'), and I've got registration on Tuesday, and just--I just--I don't want to deal with. I CAN'T deal with it.
I mean, for fuck's sake--I'm having an emotional crisis over a five-paragraph, simple ESSAY. At 1:34 am! On a Sunday night! DURING THE SUMMER.
Sometime last week, I think it was, I got into a conversation (I say conversation because I don't have a word for "one person talking in a one-sided conversation then demanding to know why the other person isn't responding but not really giving them a chance to") with my brother. It was...what? Roughly 15 minutes, maybe. By the end, I was begging to just be let to go back to my room and do whatever it was I was doing.
I was reduced to fucking tears.
He does similar things to my mum--similar "conversations" because he's so certain that he knows best--that he knows EVERYTHING.
So I ended up writing a novel-length email to my mum. I could probably check and see exactly how many thousands of words it was, but I won't bother.
Went back-and-forth with that, as well.
And that whole "ordeal" that lasted roughly 15 minutes? I was so emotionally drained then, that I couldn't even bear the thought of reading. I resorted to staring mindlessly at walls and televisions.
For fuck's sake--scrolling through Tumblr and seeing amusing/lovely pictures is typically pretty mindless or uplifting, and I couldn't even convince myself to do THAT.
Just like I can't, right now.
I tried reading something to make myself feel a little better, but instead I just feel immensely guilty for not doing the stupid essay.
Then I look at the essay and--well, I already stated above why I can't even stand the thought of attempting it. And yet, I can't stand the thought of NOT doing it and allowing myself to essentially fail this course when it's SO GODDAMNED EASY.
And of course, I've backed myself into a corner--this is essentially all my fucking fault.
I fully accept that, but on top of everything else, that's crippling. CRIPPLING. Literally. I was shaking earlier, though whether that was immense hunger, insane sleeping schedules (14 hours--I mean, really?), or a residue of the intense stress that the email conversation from earlier caused me, I don't know. But there you have it.
I need to learn to cope with stress and responsibility.
Actually, no. I'm perfectly capable of handling the stuff that's interesting, directly beneficial or others or myself, amusing, or enlightening in some way.
Give me a shite online summer school course with half-informed pieces of textbook, idiotic videos, ridiculous essays about depressing topics? I'm hopeless. Right now, I can't even muster up the motivation to finish this course ahead of time to spite the "instructor".
I can't even do it to remove this pressure from my mum's shoulders.
I mean, it's bad enough I'm taking the course online--but if I can't even get an A+ for both semesters, how will that look to colleges?
And I'm taking both years of Spanish online, meanwhile one of the colleges I want to attend almost EXPECTS applicants to have FOUR YEARS of a foreign language.
I'm trying to work my way around that, right now...
And then the four years of science, thing... Jesus fuck.
Every time I think about it, the more it seems that any and all dreams and expectations I have for my future are stupid little daydreams that I've concocted out of some misplaced sense of grandeur--like I have a fucking God-complex or something. I'm a huge fucking elitist, in case you didn't know. Anyone who knows me personally on here has probably been unfortunate enough to have been witness to it at some point. I apologise. It's ugly and dislikes being controlled or tempered in any way.
My eyes burn. I don't know if that means I'm tired or what, but it hardly makes sense. I got 14 hours of sleep in 7-hour blocks, and I've barely been up for twelve hours, now. I've no right nor reason to be tired.
It's times like these that make me feel like I'm going to be utterly hopeless as an adult. All bark, no bite--and in some cases, no bark, either. I rely on other people and the structure of academia--then think myself better than it, disregard things that are important (or have been deemed important), dig myself into a giant hole doing so, and then whine and cry and complain.
I would say I need a giant wake-up call, a slap in the face, someone to put it to me in an unfeeling, logical, straightforward manner, but I'm so horrible with confrontation, conflict, and criticism, that I wouldn't be able to take it.
Basically, I need to work it out in my own time. That doesn't always work for the best, but it DOES typically work out. Not ALL things, but stuff like this? I buckle down, chastise myself (verbally like now, or in my head) and get shit done.
The main complaint of this whole thing was less about my being responsible (or severely irresponsible), and more about the fact that--
My tendency to get really emotionally worked up over stuff prevents me from being useful for hours (introverted tendency? read up on INFPs--it should explain it pretty well).
And then I have to wonder if I'm just blaming it on that and am actually being lazy. I don't actually know. Disturbing thought. Does that mean my blaming it on being emotionally drained is valid or no? I don't want to think about it.
I just need to write that stupid fucking essay about Japanese internment camps and accept the fact that I won't get an A on the goddamned thing.
Oh, speaking of which--
The last essay I turned in got a 95%. Why? Four points off for content ("you should've talked about the causes of the Great Depression more!" on an essay that was about a fictional personal account of how to COPE with the AFTER-EFFECTS of the Great Depression, not its fucking CAUSE), and one point off on conventions.
You've (presumably) read this entire journal post. Do you see any conventional errors? Any? No? You'd probably be right in saying so. The only things I don't typically catch are typos like "not"/"no".
It was an essay--it's safe to assume that I edited it a few times.
So what was the point-off for?
Because I'd capitalised mother and father. Why did I capitalise them? Because I was using them as PROPER NOUNS. I was referring to my fictional parents as Mother and Father. "Father says..." "I was talking to Mother and..."
And the stupid "instructor" took a whole fucking point off because she doesn't understand how grammar actually works. That's nice, isn't it?
Fuck this.
I need to write the essay.
Or lay in bed, stare at a wall, and cry and wallow in self-pity. Either one is about as productive as I could possibly hope to be, right now.
-- Babs
P.S.
I feel like clarifying something a little bit. That back-and-forth emailing with a friend that wasn't very pleasant? That wasn't petty "teenage girl drama". I don't do that shit. Hardly identify as enough of a girl (or petty American teenager) for that to even happen. Something a bit more trying, stressful, and emotional than "ohemgee ur such a bitch".
P.P.S.
Also, apologies for overusing the F-bomb in this post. It just sort of happened.
Update:
3:30 am and I'm having a bigger emotional crisis over this essay. EMOTIONAL crisis--I want to emphasise that. Not, "Holy shit I'm fucked. Damn stupid essay." But instead, I'm essentially having some sort of introspective, existential crisis. Caused by an essay.
I'm nearing a panic attack.
Someone please liberate me of any and all responsibilities and revoke my license to be a proper human being because clearly I'm not one and don't deserve to pretend to be.
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