Sunday, May 31, 2015

Plot twist

CAMP NANO IS IN JULY I LIED oh well might as well write next month, or at least spend the month working on filling out that character creation form.

I did some writing today. I got a book a few years ago called "The Little Red Writing Book" which is about, well, writing, and had some exercises in there to do. After getting halfway through the second chapter I started to wonder if the book really would help me get better at writing, but I kinda liked what I wrote today, and so I thought I'd put it here.

First exercise: Take a walk. Come back home and write what you encountered. Try to write so that your sentences feel the way the walking felt.

(Disclaimer: I am shit at writing descriptive stuff. Dialogue is more my alley. Excessive amounts of dialogue)

The walk began a half hour after a thunderstorm had sailed through. The realty sign boasted that the lot was 22.43 acres, and waterfront to boot. Blocked off by a tiny red chain, our only option to see the lot was to walk. So we did.
It quickly became clear that walking was the wiser choice. The road, invaded by the nature that surrounded it, had become bumpy, uneven, even soft from the rain. Edged by tire tracks nonetheless, the centre had become a tiny river carved from the spring runoff. In other places, baby trees with soft needles reached to the sky, relishing in the room for growth.
The road curved invitingly; we wanted to see what was around the bend. For five minutes we walked until we reached the cabin, disappointingly lackluster considering the $2.7 million price tag. The water was accessible only by a steep grassy path down a rocky slope, an adventure for another time. Yet despite our height, I could still smell the lake, carried up the mountain on the breeze.
The return journey was muggy, the sun having returned to suck the water from everything around us. It was the kind of heat we weren't accustomed to; our hometown was desperately dry. Dry heat doesn't seep into one's face the same way heat does after a good rain.

That was as far as I got. I didn't really like the bit at the end, it's not super relevant, and I'd probably cut it out if I were going to edit it. But it's not like this is a piece of writing into which I poured my soul. I sat down and wrote it in probably 15 minutes. Lucky for me dad and I decided to go on that walk. I forgot to describe the giant, out-of-place rock, though, and the deer, and the density of the trees. Dammit.

Second exercise: What do you get anxious about when you write? Looking like a fool; making some egregrious mistake of grammar or fact or argument; getting yourself sued; causing problems for your family? Make a personal list. Sometimes giving names to the things that trouble us can strip them of their power.

That my writing is bad. That there are people out there who write a million times better than I ever could. That people won't like my story, or the way I wrote it, that they will say it is bad.
That I haven't done enough to improve my writing, and by this alone, I am not a real writer.
I worry that I am getting proud of something terrible, that people will question my judgement because I think something I wrote is good when in actuality, it's terrible.
That my writing isn't good, that it never moves people, that something I write will never stick with them, become their favourite.
That when I say I am good at writing, I'm lying.
It's made all the worse when I don't get a good grade on something like an essay. I hold that up as proof that I'm lying when I say I'm good at writing. At this point, writing is about the only thing I feel confident in saying I'm good at.
But when I was 12 and wrote "Nations", when I was 14 and wrote "Camp Lame-o", I was proud of those stories. They were crappy and I was proud anyway. maybe there was a certain kind of wisdom in that- or at least a certain kind of joy.

I realize how repetitive and bad this is now, of course, but again, I wrote this in like 15 minutes. It's still true, though. It never used to bother me that I might not be good, because everyone said I was, and my writing was of great quality... when I was 10, and 12, and 14, for the age I was at. Except now I'm an adult, and I'm expected to write like one- and I have no idea what I'm doing.

There was one time when I was considering entering a CBC writing contest. You had to write a short story- something I don't enjoy- about a particular theme, and there were past examples of winners on the site. Reading those past examples convinced me that I had no chance of winning. I can't write like that, with hidden meanings and people being dramatic and stuff meaning things, I can't do that. I don't know how. I don't know how to be that obtuse. I don't get it. I didn't like the stuff that was up there, either. Like, it was well written, and interesting, but I didn't like it. Maybe because it felt inaccessible to me, maybe because it intimidated me, I don't know.

Was that the first time I'd felt that my writing wasn't any good? Hardly. But it still stuck with me. That was probably also the same year I had to quit nano for school, and the same year I stopped writing. That's when all this doubt crept in and set up camp. And try as I might, I can't get back what I had once.

This is where I should cut in with some anecdote about how I'm still trying and it'll be fine, but honestly I'm just not up for that kind of positivity today. Thinking about this makes me sad. Thinking that I gave up something I loved so much- something that brought me so much joy, something that gave me an identity- for school makes me so unbelievably sad. There aren't a lot of things I regret in life, but that is one of them.

That's also tied up with the fact that when I was in high school, I spent so much of my time working and studying that that became the entirety of who I was, my entire identity was "IB student" and nothing else. And now I come to university, and people have all these hobbies and interests and the question "What do you do for fun?" is far more tied up in what I gave up in high school than I'd like to admit. I used to have an answer to that question. It's like other people spent high school, y'know, doing school but also having fun, and finding out things they enjoyed, and spending time developing a personality. Sometimes I just feel like yeah, maybe I developed better study habits and ways to deal with stress, but god, I'm so boring. What do I do for fun? Nothing. I sit around in my room on the internet. There's your answer.

I know I'm trying, but I feel like I shouldn't have to be. I just want to be interesting. I just want to be able to say I'm good at something and know that I can prove it. I just want to have stuff to do that isn't schoolwork. I'm great at doing homework (ha! there's one thing). That's about it.

I dunno. It does feel good to want to write something, to have even some sloppy things to be able to share and not feel self conscious about (like, those are rough drafts. If I were to hand them in for anything, I'd edit the shit out of both of them at least 3 times). Also, at this point everyone who knew that I once liked to write has basically stopped asking how my writing is going, because they all know it isn't, so I can stop explaining myself all the damn time.

yer pal,

P.S. oh and hey, writing friends- because I know both of you (Omnia and Redbeard, that is) read this blog- try the writing exercises, if you want. Just make sure to tell me how it goes, because you are both excellent at writing and I'd want to read what you wrote.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Plan of action

I'm doing Camp nano next month. I decided this like two days ago, and it's probably a bad decision, but god, I need something to throw myself into.

I'm still trying to evict this guy from my head (last night he was featured in a dream in which he was in my kitchen in a bathrobe cooking cream of wheat, but doing it incorrectly, and so I was arguing with him about the correct way to make cream of wheat. I woke up very confused), and I have noticed that he is pleasantly absent when I am doing things like lab work, or helping Freckles deal with her history paper, or when I'm on a skype call with Ptarckas (and I'm hoping that the problems there will get resolved through leaving the back of my mind to think about them, if that makes any sense), or when I'm talking with friends about literally anything else. Those times are the best. Having this guy in my head makes me miserable, because that's how crushes do. THEY CRUSH YOU.

Hence, the need for a distraction. This is how I have gotten over all other obsessions in my life (and, let's be real, what is a crush if not an obsession, amiriteladies (at least on some level)), using some "out of sight, out of mind" shit (which has worked WONDERS because since I have moved home, I haven't seen him, and that has helped a lot).

I am actually very excited about my nano novel, though. I'm taking a character from Camp Lame-o (because I have like 0 originality and I am done caring about that), and I'm trying to find out more about her via a family tragedy steeped in a little mystery. She's one of my favourite characters that I've ever written- confident, headstrong, and business savvy. She's smart and she's powerful and she knows how to get what she wants, and how to make people listen (and yes, I have been trying very very hard not to write a Mary Sue). She also has a wonderful/horrible habit if playing matchmaker with all her friends (and she is never wrong about the pairings), but she does it out of a weird sort of concern and love for them.

I'm just really excited to get to write something with her at the helm, navigating the waters of grief or some poetic shit like that (I am not good at poetry). Plus, I don't often write sad things. Probably it will have too much happy in it to really be sad because at my core I am like a ball of sunshine and positivity even if on the outside I am grumpy and opinionated and constantly bothering people with my Social Justice Opinions On Literally Everything All The Time

Anyway. Expect frustrated writer updates as I attempt to write a ridiculous amount of words in 30 days for the... somethingth time. It's fun, I swear!

yer pal,
swegan :)

Monday, May 25, 2015

You'd be a bitch too

I am so angry and yes it is because of period stuff and I am also mad about that, because I hate that stupid fucking stereotype of "haha girls are bitchy on their periods" like you know what you would be bitchy too if your face turned into a zit farm and you got bloated and got headaches and pre-cramps and back pain and then had to deal with ACTUAL cramps and this bloody, sticky shit coming out of you for 5-7 days, and had to do it monthly for the rest of your life. Don't even argue with me. Anyone who doesn't menstruate doesn't fucking get it and I am sick and tired of having to act normal when my body is just acting insane and oh my god, oh my god of course I'm bitchy, you asshole, get out of my face before I rip off yours.

But nooo, I'm supposed to just go about my business normally, making sure nobody can tell if I take a pad to the bathroom, because heaven forbid anyone know that I'm on my period. I mean, it's not like people can't tell that I'm female. They know I have to deal with this. I don't get why it's so weird for guy friends when I say "you know what, I'm grumpy because I am on my period" like jesus christ, guys, you knew this about me already, what is the big deal?? You don't have to get all weird, just offer me hugs and possibly advil and sympathy and understand that I am not bitchy because of something you did or something anyone did.

Also I find it really weird to be this angry (well, I am not now, but I was a few minutes ago). I am a tiny person (everyone keeps telling me I am, so it must be true), and so of course I'm sure people just think I'm cute when I'm angry (which makes me angrier because just... just do not call short/tiny people cute when they are angry, okay? it gets old real fast and I will lost a lot of respect for you if you do that and I am sick and tired of it) but inside I feel all dangerous, like I could fucking murder someone if they got in my way. I'd like to think that usually I'm a kindhearted person; I obviously take a strong dislike to people sometimes but for the most part I don't do that.

Sometimes I just wish I could be a normal person size. I always thought I was, but no, I keep getting short jokes and tiny jokes and you-weigh-nothing jokes and honestly sometimes that is just a bit irritating like okay yes I get it I am small please shut the fuck up. Like I get that it is just teasing but as I'm sure everyone knows, teasing gets on your nerves after a point. Plus, I have been putting up with this kind of teasing literally my whole life. Some days it is just annoying that I can't be a regular girl height, no, I have to be just slightly under the average, and I can't be a regular girl size, no, I have to have the build that I do, and I can't look my fucking age, either, no, I have to look like a child, to top it all off.

It's all very stupid, of course, but sometimes shit just gets to you, I guess. Plus I'm already in a bad mood to begin with. Like work today was extra irritating both because I was grumpy for period reasons and my lab partner was tired and that apparently makes her chatty and she is the nicest person in the world I swear to god but she would not shut up and like I want to like her but she has this constant need to make conversation and it is like you know, sometimes we can just be quiet and work, okay? jesus. Please. Just. Shut. Up. But I can't say that to her, because that would be horribly cruel of me when she has been nothing but friendly and nice to me. It is not her fault that she is extremely extroverted and I am just... not.

Which brings me to my other problem of the fact of me still having a crush on that guy. He keeps popping into my head, but it's not even in the usual crush way anymore. I just, like, think about him. often. Not in a mushy way or anything, he just comes to mind. I remember a conversation we had, or something he said, or something reminds me of him, or my mind just like, naturally goes there. it's irritating. I know it wouldn't work out, both because I AM IN A FUCKING RELATIONSHIP ALREADY THAT I HAPPEN TO LIKE BEING IN (BRAIN PLS) and because he is also pretty extroverted and likes stuff that I just do not and I cannot really see a universe in which he also likes me and thinks about me often and shit like that. But I cannot get him out of my head. It is so annoying. Like, he's not even that cool.

blugh. I don't even know what the point of this was. Whatever.


Thursday, May 21, 2015

Leave me alone

There is nothing more annoying to me than people trying to ask my opinion on something that has just blown me away. A movie, a book, a speech- if I'm staring into the distance silently and not talking to you, it is because I am trying to process. And I hate being around people when that happens.

Just- if I'm really quiet after something, and generally unresponsive, I'm thinking. I don't have an opinion to give yet, let me make one first. In general, the less I talk, the more I'm trying to appreciate something. This is why I refused to talk to friends on several school trips when we saw really amazing places- which of course made me come off like a dick, and for that, I'm sorry, I was just trying to absorb things. (This led to tudo stealing my very nice, brand new, probably expensive umbrella and using it as a cane, in an effort to get me to talk that was pretty fucking childish. Maybe it's stupid to get upset about nice things, but I don't like to wreck them, and that umbrella is now all scratched up at the top).

The reason for the post is having just watched Interstellar, which- wow. Mom kept trying to ask what I thought, and kept trying to talk to me, and dad knocked on my door to say goodnight, and I was just so angry- leave me alone, I am trying to think, but how can they know that, and I don't want to say anything because if I do I'll lose my train of thought. Words make it harder to appreciate stuff.

yer pal,

Monday, May 18, 2015

Well, today was infinitely better

I swear to god, one of these days I will find a way to keep nail polish from chipping after having it for like 4 hours. Freckles paints on gorgeous and garish pink sparkles for me, I take a shower (and like half my fucking hair comes out) and now it's chipping. What the fuck. Why.

Today was more balanced. I think maybe I got everything out of my system yesterday. Did a lot less stuff today, but that's ok. That was the whole point of this weekend, to get away, to relax, to potentially solve my boy problems. Have I solved them? Noooo. I'm starting to wonder if there is a good solution.

I can't let go of Ptarckas. I can't. On some level, I feel like there would be a logic to it, but I can't let go. I'm too attached to him. I miss him now, after not talking to him (or anyone else outside of this cabin) for a whole weekend. Powerfully. The thing I notice is that I don't miss this other guy. At least not in the same way. Because while I have memories of being with Ptarckas, I don't have that with the other guy (not that I haven't thought about it, obviously).

I'm just so worried I'm going to regret whatever decision I make down the road, that if I let him go, I'll regret it because not having someone to snuggle with will be the thing that destroys me while everything else is fine, but on the other hand, if I hang on, it could go nowhere, I could leave him when I leave my undergrad and then have all that change happening at once.

I will talk to him about this again, even though it's the same damn stuff all the time. Our conversations just go in circles now. We care, but will it work? Can we last? God, this sounds so weepy and dramatic, like I'm... well, 19. Maybe I'm supposed to get all weepy and dramatic about relationships. Maybe that's ok. Maybe it doesn't fucking matter and what the hell is wrong with me being a weepy, dramatic child? Why does it matter? This is my hurt, I'll react to it how I like, and if you're going to make fun of me for it, leave.

But it has been a good weekend. Freckles and I have been planning adventures, and Fex and I planned a little one for next week. I got away from life. I got through more of my Europe book, which, while interesting, gets a little dry after a while. European history is kind of fun to read. It's kind of like reading really summed-up tales of kings, and princes, and the glory of nationalistic and liberal revolutions, but it's real, it really happened. I'm king of already familiar with this particular bit of history anyway, so that helps, I'm sure. I think European history might be one of my Things, like writing (if these blog posts count then I'm back, bitches), or social justice, or ... I can't think of any more things. Dancing, maybe, insofar as I enjoy it and have been known to have wicked dance parties when my roommates go out of town.

Tomorrow we go home, which is very Not OK since this is literally my favourite place on earth (it trumps even my love for beautiful Ireland), but... ehh. I will talk to Ptarckas again, which makes me happy.

yer pal,

Thursday, May 14, 2015

How to Be a Person

I'm starting to see people as mashups of things they enjoy, know. Various hobbies, things they like learning about, people they're fans of, what they spend their time doing. Which is probably why I find all my friends so cool and awesome, because they come with a wide range of varying activities and interests and I think that means I've got a good group of friends. Some of those interests I share, some I don't, as would be expected.

Which raises the question of why I find describing my interests and activities so hard. I got asked that earlier this year, "what do you do for fun?" and the question has stuck with me longer than I think it was intended to. I didn't have a good answer. At one point I would have said writing, but I don't know that that's true anymore. I'm trying to make it true. I could say reading, except that I don't do much of that when I'm in the midst of the semester. What do I do for fun?

To be honest, I am the kind of person who needs a lot of down time. I think I'm pretty introverted (though I will almost always say yes to an invitation to hang out, because being with friends is always a good time- always), but more so than that, I think I just... I don't know. Maybe it's something I picked up from my family? We never really do exciting stuff- going to classical music concerts is about as exciting as it gets. We all like to recharge and relax by doing things like watching TV, or sitting around reading and eating. We're very, very lazy. So when I went off to university, I'd go to class, come home, do some work, and then stop around 8 or 9, and then for the next three hours, I'd just browse the internet. Facebook. Tumblr. Netflix. The usual. And on the weekends? I'd waste time on the internet until 1 PM, do homework haphazardly until 8 or 9... and then spend more time on the internet.

I'm not very adventurous, either. Whether it's going on an actual adventure, or just going to a bar, I'm always afraid of what might go wrong. There is also the aspect of me not wanting to spend money on something unless I feel like it's worth it. This has led to a lot of internal crises when debating whether or not to buy food, but also when debating whether or not to get A Thing that is for An Activity. If I don't already do that Activity, how can I justify spending money on the Thing? What if I hate the Activity? I'll just find another way. And then I never do.

I suppose one way to fix this is to ask what I want to do. What do I want to do? I want to see my friends more. I want to go to the library more. I want to bike more. I want to read more. I want to go on a trip- nothing big, just a day thing, possibly a couple of days- with friends. I've never actually done that without my parents before, because I am the biggest dweeb in existence. I want to be the kind of person who goes out and does stuff, who goes for walks in the trees to calm down. I want to volunteer more. I wanna go to more things, like plays, and shows, and concerts. I want to learn how to do things like cook and put on makeup and dance (not all the same time, obviously). I have random dreams of doing some kind of canoe trip through the wilderness and doing a road trip across Canada and down the Oregon coast, possibly to California.

And I know it's ok to get stuck in the semester for a little while, to get stuck in work for a little while. To just come home and do lazy things and get myself through it. Despite how boring that sounds, I like school. I really do. I have for a long time. I like that I finally found a degree I want to get. I like that I might get to do an independent study. I like all of it. I like the school, my building, the people, the city (despite how little I've seen of it).

I think maybe the issue is something like I'm still stuck feeling like I'm a kid, or like I'm 15, or whatever. Like I can't leave my house without getting a ride and I can't try all the crazy insane things I wanted to try as a kid. Like I can't try something I think might be interesting because my parents are with me and for some reason that is prohibitive. I think I need to learn how to live, maybe. Something like that.

This year was slightly better. Went to a couple of plays, a ballet, a folk music festival. Spent a couple of evenings cooking/baking with Carina. Went for more walks. Went out on the street I live on (it's got lots of little boutiques and stores and stuff) more often. Took a partner dancing class. I think that's improvement from first year, where the most adventurous thing I did was go to a bar for the first time.

It's weird to think that I have two years of university experience now. I'm not sure how that happened. I intend to make more of the last two, especially now that I'm familiar with the campus, have some friends, am pursuing a degree that I want to pursue, and am getting used to the "my parents aren't here to tell me not to do something" thing, which is honestly pretty fucking great.

Well, I don't really know what to do about next year except to say that I should attend more of the science guest speaker stuff at the uni... also the feminist guest speaker stuff, since I didn't get to go to ANY of it this year because it was ALWAYS AT THE SAME TIME AS MY GODDAMN PSYCHOLOGY CLASS. And see more plays put on by the uni. And try and go for more walks, and cook more food, and take more dance classes, and find fucking SOME kind of volunteer commitment in which to put my efforts that does not make me feel as guilty as EPASS does. Also, go to a party, because I've done that literally once, and it was a grad party, and I spent at least 15% of it ogling the stereotypical hot guy in school, who was wearing full-body spandex and pulling it off pretty fucking well, might I add (I realized at grad when he said he wanted to become a dentist that he just looked like a dentist and for some reason that was the end of my being attracted to him). Well, ok, that's a lie. My building has had some parties at which I totally killed it with my dance moves. Also I went to a club one time for like half an hour.

The experiences I remember best from this past year are the ones that are different. Something as stupid as sitting somewhere different in ochem, to cooking with Carina, to the time I went on like an hour and a half walk around campus, to the time I got to see The Nutcracker for the first time (and consequently found why Tchaikovsky hated it: the music is beautiful, but the plot is terrible). I think that says something.

ANYWAY. This is long enough, and I have laundry to do.

yer pal,

Sunday, May 10, 2015

On Eating

Apparently I've gone back to the weight I was at when I finished my first year of university. Somebody even mentioned to me the other day that it looked like I'd lost weight since Christmas, which made me a little conflicted. Typically, that should be a comment that people are happy to hear, because losing weight is framed as Always a Good Thing. I was slightly glad, because it meant that my plan to stop gaining weight worked (obviously), but then I found myself feeling like I was too small.

Then I realized how stupid the whole thing was. How much of my mental energy is spent worrying about how much I eat and how much I've walked and whether or not my jeans still fit the same way? Christ, I downloaded a calorie counting app at one point this year (which was interesting in that I learned how many calories I generally ate in a day and that sort of stuff), but like... using that app was exhausting. I stopped a while ago and do not regret it. Not to mention the forums were full of people who were like "I EAT ONLY LEAN CHICKEN AND BROCCOLI AND BROWN RICE FOR DINNER AND GO TO THE GYM EVERY DAY" and that was so not the kind of person I wanted to be.

I just miss being a kid, but I can remember even then thinking about this kind of shit. I had a few friends who were always concerned about their weight, and I can remember girls talking about diets and skipping breakfast as early as the 6th grade. I remember feeling glad that I didn't have to worry about any of that, because I was a tiny little twig of a girl who ate and ate but never seemed to get any bigger. Until I did, and thank god for that, because I would not want to be that tiny again.

Of course, growing up in my house has always been interesting re: eating. My mom was a nutritionist at one point, and I remember not having dessert like ever as a kid. I also remember a lot of whole grain everything and regular mealtimes, which have since gone the way of the dinosaur in this house. I don't even know what happened. There's almost always junk food around now, and I don't even know what's happening for dinner tonight. So far I've eaten half a bag of $1 chips from Bulk Barn that I bought on Friday. Nobody has called me for dinner or anything... I think my parents are both just tired and knowing they have work tomorrow makes them more tired. I think this is where my horrible eating habits in university come from. There have been weekend days when I don't eat until dinner just out of sheer laziness, and by the time dinner rolls around, I'm lightheaded and going "Oh, god, never again, you need to eat food, swegan, oh my god" but it still continues happening. It got to the point where I bought instant oatmeal because that was the lowest-effort food I could think of to keep around that was also sort of healthy.

My mom, of course, has had an interesting impact on this, from her comments about me (none of which I can forget, of course), to her comments about herself (which are far more common and make me really sad). I feel like my mom is really insecure, and I'm trying not to pick that up, while also trying to find ways to reassure her that she is fine, and that no one cares (she was worried that my unshaven legs would scare boys away (and also people in general I think) but to date, the only people who even seem to care are her and this girl in high school I didn't really like anyway), but I know that I'm probably not going to change her mind.

This year, though, I just started thinking about the whole concept of taking up space. Like I realize that I don't take up very much, and sometimes that does bother me. I already look like such a child, and being tiny makes me feel like people don't take me as seriously or something. Like, I'm not as formidable, I don't know. I was just looking around and wondering what it would be like to be male and take up space in that way. To be tall, and have MAN SHOULDERS and big feet and stuff like that. I think in general men get socialized to take up more space, while women get socialized to take up less, so that might have something to do with it.

anyway. I got distracted and now any other thoughts I had on the matter are gone.

yer pal,

Friday, May 8, 2015

Well, this still fucking sucks

My default state is having a crush on someone. It has been since the 7th grade. It's annoying, yeah, but I kind of like it. Keeps me alive or something like that.

I've told ptarckas about it (not specifically who, because I didn't think that was wise) and he seemed... weirdly ok with it. I think I may have been a little hard on myself for having emotions.

My strategy for all my boy problems as of late is currently to just let the chips fall where they may, and not try to find a solution. That isn't exactly working, but I have stopped obsessing over everything, which is nice because it allows me to focus on other things, like making friends at work and doing tissue culture stuff correctly and not fucking up the gels. There's also an opportunity for me to get my name on a paper now if I do some westerns well enough, which is very, very exciting.

Anyway. I do have one. A crush, I mean. Which is a good description, because it's a very shallow, superficial thing, and also it's hard to really like someone when you never actually see them in person. But that doesn't mean it's gone away entirely. Definitely has mellowed, which is good, because seeing them in person was starting to make my heartbeat do funny things, and I was like "k, you need to chill" but that is kind of hard to do with emotions. Unfortunately, I am also very far away from Ptarckas now, which means I can't attempt to get over this stupid thing by focusing on other things.

Of course, I am getting weird about it, and I'm sure they can probably tell by now (I am very unsubtle), but I can't bring it up because it would majorly fuck up a lot of things. But it just sucks, because the feelings of INSECURITY have crept in. Of course they don't like me. Not that way, anyway. I'm lame, I never do anything fun. They have their own life. Probably other girls to flirt with. It's stupid, because none of it matters anyway, because I have a fucking boyfriend who is seriously the best boyfriend ever.

We are having our own problems, but somehow my brain has managed to neatly separate the two issues. There's whatever is going on between Ptarckas and me, and there's these stupid emotions in here in the corner. I like that, because it makes everything easier to think about, and when I get tired of obsessing over one problem in the car, I can just switch to the other one (or start singing beyonce really loudly, but that doesn't always help) ("Rocket" in particular tends to not help either case) (if you choose to listen to it, be forewarned that it is Very About Sex) (QUIT JUDGING ME, I CAN FEEL YOU JUDGING ME).

And then tonight I caught another wave of sad like last summer, because I was sitting with my parents watching movies and the people I usually talk to are either out working, out partying, or out of the fucking country. And I just felt super lame, and caged in, and sad, and it was awful. I thought about how ridiculous it was, because that is what I do at university all the time, sit in my room and do nothing, because I'm too scared to have any adventures because what if something goes wrong or we end up wasting a bunch of money or we get into trouble? Also because by the time I'm finished doing hw, it's dark and cold outside, so I don't really have any incentive to leave.

But I realized the reason I was sitting with my parents watching Footloose was that that's what I've always done. That's how I grew up, watching TV and eating dinner and just in general hanging out with my parents. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, except that I didn't really want to be doing it in this case and it was making me powerfully lonely. Who the fuck hangs out with their parents?

I'll end up being forced to hang out with them a lot this weekend, too, like basically the whole weekend (mother's day is the one thing I won't complain about, because of course I should be hanging out with my parents on mother's day, duh). I don't know why the prospect of staying here makes this weekend any more appealing. I think it's because I don't have to be on, you know? I don't have to put on a face and actual clothes and act like a normal person in public.

Maybe it's not this city. Maybe it's just this house. It was fine being here when I spent all day with my friends at school and home was where I got fed and had a warm bed and people who loved me. That's all still true, except I don't hang out with my friends at work (not that the people at work aren't nice, but I'm still in the getting-to-know-them-phase). I feel like I should have gone out more as a teenager. Now I'm too used to staying in and letting the knot in my back slowly drive me to insanity while I watch mind-numbingly boring movies with people who go to bed at 9 PM on a regular basis because they are older than me.

I don't know. I just got bored, and sad, and lonely. I wanted to go outside, go for a walk, go ride my bike, go for a drive, anything. I want to hang out with friends more this summer.

I just... I can't let this summer turn into last summer. I can't let that happen again. I blew people off and let myself be emotionally exhausted by work and the endless heat that I had to endure in long pants and shoes because that's lab attire. Last summer was way less fun that it could have been, and all I really remember was that at the end I was working out and going for bike rides and starting to realize that hanging out with friends were good ideas because they were the only times I didn't feel like crying.

Anyway, now it's almost midnight, and I'm miserable because my boyfriend is far away and I feel unworthy of the guy I have a crush on (which, I know, is absolutely fucking ridiculous) and I have to go on a long drive tomorrow and because my fucking back needs to fucking stop with this knot oh my god.

Oh well. I'll live. I always do.

yer pal,

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Too many thoughts

I can't stop thinking and feeling bad for not doing things I should and forgetting things that are so little

Summer outlook is decidedly better than last summer, aside from the small relationship issues that have been happening (and are being dealt with, trust me), and this asshole boy i caught who knows exactly what the fuck he's doing, and i have actual friends in the lab and feel like I'm doing ok.

I always just want to write song lyrics as a blog post. I keep listening to the same few songs over and over and over and over and I know why, and I just keep hearing the words all the time.

I bought some crappy christmas romance novels at the used bookstore the other day. Also a book about europe between 1848 and 1878, which is turning out to be hella interesting. funny how in high school reading those books was such a chore and now I actively seek them out. Thinking I might seek out more and become a full blown history nerd.

I keep asking people for advice and they keep telling me different things and I feel like I want someone to tell me what to do and no one can and there isn't any right answer to the problems i am having and that bothers me. I want to know what the right answer is. I think I also want validation that people will still like me if I fuck up. I don't want to fuck up. I don't want anybody to get hurt. Currently I am just watching my words, ignoring things that don't need to be said, and giving myself time.

I voted today. I'm proud of that. the election turned out to be insane and completely flipped politics around here, so that should be interesting. My parents are scared and I am so excited but I am hiding it because I know they know more because they have just been around for longer but honestly, voting for the party that freezes tuition and pushes for an inquiry into the human rights crisis in this country is something that i feel is a good idea.

We brought Sadie with us to the polls when dad went to vote. Some idiots with their own dog decided to walk right past me with it, and when sadie got excited, she pulled me over. what the fuck is wrong with you? walk your dog somewhere else. Dogs get excited around other dogs and you can see perfectly well that I'm trying to handle a dog that is much larger than me. go fuck yourself, assholes.

Apparently, I've lost weight, and I'm not really sure how I ought to feel about that. Mostly I just feel like I'm ok. Like, this is ok, i found my range. This is also probably due to the two weeks in march when I completely stopped taking care of myself because my schedule was weird and I didn't see Ptarckas for a while and that was about as fun as it sounded. I don't think that's something to be proud of. I mean, not that I didn't take care of myself, because I'm pretty sure that happens to every person my age at least once, but that i am smaller than i was. No one even cares, at all, and that's really freeing. i'm fine. i'm not the picture of health (who the fuck is) but i'm fine.

And I know this post makes me sound like a big sad mess, but I am actually way more ok than I thought I would be once I got home. I'm keeping myself busy. I'm ok. Is life pure elation and butterflies? No. Is life sadness and rainclouds? No. Life just is, right now, and that's pretty good. Plus I seem to be a lot less angry when I drive, which is such a relief, you have no idea. Plus, the price of gas is finally under 100 cents/litre, so I filled up my tank for less than $50 today. amazing.

Everything is fine. Except the boy stuff, but that can be pushed aside until I have a better idea of what to do. Well, and some of it can get discussed with Ptarckas, which makes it 5,000 times better.

I just keep thinking. It's nice to get some of it out.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

This was supposed to be about struggle but it's just a mess of midnight thoughts

Earlier this year, I told a friend that Michael Buble's "I've got it easy" was the song that described my life, and I don't think I was entirely wrong. Anyone who knows me knows that my life is a fucking cakewalk. I mean, sure, I get to have problems like anyone else, but they're always so much easier to deal with. And I am grateful for that, really. I don't think it would be fair not to be. I know I've been given a lot of opportunity in life, and I feel very lucky because of that, and kind of view it as my duty to do well and work hard so that, should I ever have kids, I can do the same for them (which is what my parents have told me is their goal on several occasions).

The funny thing is, I feel like people get admired for having to struggle. Well, ok, maybe not that, but for dealing with those struggles in an admirable way. I've never had to struggle for anything before (apparently not even to pass ochem, which makes me feel weirdly guilty because I know people who worked their butts off studying for that who deserved a much better mark than what they got, and definitely better than what I got), so I don't get admired for that.

And I admire people for this, too. Just, people who work hard in general. I mean it when I say that I find literally all of my friends inspirational in some way, because they are all so amazing. Some of them have been lucky like me, they come from a family with some money and they don't have to work as much. Some of my friends work full time and get degrees. I am amazed by all of them. Which is how I think I pick good friends, because they make me feel like I ought to do more, be more, try harder. I know the whole point of good friends is that they make you feel good about yourself, too, and that's my point- my friends don't make me feel bad about myself, but they do make me feel like I could do more. Not even just with volunteering or working, too, but with trying to be a better listener, or trying to be more generous, or trying new things, or keeping my mind open.

I think it's probably good to be proud of one's friends. It makes sense. And I am proud of them. They're all doing different things, yeah, and that's great, and each of them has a bunch of qualities that make me like them. I dunno, you guys, I'm just getting all mushy now, like I do all the fucking time.

I don't even know why the writing in this post is so weird. Probably because I picked up a couple of cheesy christmas romance novels (MY WEAKNESS!) (no actually) at the used bookstore with Vince the other day and the writing in them is... not bad, but just like... generic. They're like, drugstore novels. And I'm not knocking them, since obviously I have a weird thing for them, but still. I suppose generic writing has its place. And I mean, more books is never a bad thing. Plus, if there's anything I've learned from my friends who I clearly love so much, it's that it's ok to like weird shit. Like the shit you like! As long as you're not hurting anyone, your friends probably won't care. Although lately it seems that I just tend to like the underdogs of things: skim milk, Poland, Hawkeye, WWI.... nobody appreciates them enough, so I take it upon myself to do so, because they are awesome.

I don't even know where the writing is in this post anymore. I just like all my friends because they make me want to do better and because they love me as I am (yet are not afraid to be like "swegan no that is not a good thing to do").

Anyway, if I can't struggle, I can at least continue my quest to be one of those genuine warm-hearted people like those girls in high school that everybody just likes. Not really sure why that's become one of my missions in life, but there it is.

yer pal,

Friday, May 1, 2015

I don't like secrets

This is why everybody knows me so well. I'm an open book, I have nothing to hide beyond the maybe 2 things I don't want people to know because they don't need to. I have a desperate need to tell everyone everything. This doesn't mean I can't keep a secret, because I'm not stupid. I know that telling other people's secrets hurts those people, and that they aren't my secrets to tell. Sometimes I need to be informed about what is and isn't a secret because I have the social intelligence of a potato (apparently), but I can keep a fucking secret

The problem is when I have a secret of my own that I can't tell because it will hurt other people. Those are the worst kinds of secrets to have to keep. And I know writing about it here is stupid, but this is how desperate I've gotten. I've tried everything to solve this problem. I don't know what else to do at this point. There isn't any solution in which nobody gets hurt, and it's all my fault.

Of course, it isn't a big deal. No one's going to DIE. It's not like that, it's just a stupid little thing that I have to keep to myself and a secret which I am kicking myself over. This shouldn't be a problem anymore. I don't understand why it is, and I don't understand how to solve it. No amount of my still-underdeveloped maturity and logic is going to help in this situation. There is no good answer. Worst of all, there is no answer in which I am the only one left dealing with the mess, because this is my fault, and I don't want anyone else to have to hurt for it.

Wow, doesn't that sound rich. Look how nice she is, she worries so much about other people. And it's true, and it's my worst quality, and I don't know how I exist at all because I exist in a state of constantly worrying about other people. Do you know how long it took for me not to freak out that something had happened to Ptarckas when he didn't get back to me when he said he would? A year. Honestly, it's so embarrassing. If I care about someone at all, I'll worry about them incessantly.

This came to a head in high school when mom caught me literally crying because my little sister had been crying in the car on the way home and there was no way for me to help her. She was lonely in high school and missed her middle school and all the friends she had there. Fast forward two years and she's fine, of course, having found her own friend group. I still have no idea how to be a good big sister to her, and I know that's my fault too, and I will never stop regretting that.

My mom caught me crying, anyway, and told me to stop worrying so much. She told me I couldn't solve everyone's problems for them, and I knew that, and it kills me. Which, again, sounds rich, like I'm trying to make myself sound better. But honestly, I worry too much. Way too much. It's ridiculous.

Not to mention I internalize everything. I have the social skills and intelligence of a potato, as I mentioned above. I'm no good with hints or vagueness or stupid, stupid flowery poetry language. I don't pick up on things like that. All my friends learn sooner or later that joking around with me is an exercise in exhaustion because I don't get anything. I never get anything, and it is something I an incredibly insecure about.

I don't know how to be normal. I never have. I've always been this bizarre little girl with a sense of humor that's never quite entirely on track who needs everyone to be overtly genuine and be explicitly clear when they're joking around (I can pick up on sarcasm when it's blatantly wrong) who is a bizarrely open book and has nothing to hide from anyone. My heart isn't just on my sleeve. It might as well be stapled onto my forehead for how mysterious I am.

None of this seems to matter because I still manage to stay friends with people, which some days feels like a miracle. Somehow, I always manage to stay on people's good side. I suppose that's because I've just decided to try and be the nicest person on the planet, so that even if people find me annoying and exhausting, they can't say I'm mean.

I don't really know where this is all coming from except that all my mental energy is being used on something colossally useless, and I had another fail-at-big-sister-ness moment tonight. I've really got to work on listening and not giving so much goddamn advice. As for the other problem, well, it's still my cross to bear. I'd drown my sorrows in alcohol if I wasn't so afraid that would let the secret out in the first place.

yer pal,

I just need a show of hands

Or rather, texts

Since I found out today that Omnia still reads this from time to time, it makes me wonder who else I know in person that reads this.

So. If you're reading this, and you know me in person, please tell me so I can be aware of it. Freckles read this blog for years without me knowing about it and that pissed me off (but that was because she didn't bother telling me she knew about it), but this is different. I just want to know who exactly I am writing for within my own social circle.

yer pal,