On Jealousy

My roommate from first year got into med school. I know about it because of facebook. And I am wildly, nonsensically jealous of her.

This doesn't make any sense, it's not like I've ever expressed a desire to get into med. It's not like I was trying at the same time she was and I didn't get it. It's not like anything. It doesn't make any sense. And the only reason I can think is that she is- and was- a Pretty Girl.

I think more than anything I still want to be one of them. I want to rewrite my past so I was tall and had boobs in the 8th grade, so I was athletic and popular and still smart, so I got all those awards for having the highest social studies grade and be a three or four star athlete. I want to change it so that I figured out makeup somehow and figured out clothes and came to my adult life looking like the girls who look put together every day.

There's not even an excuse for me anymore. I could do all those things, I know that. This isn't my old roommate's fault; she was always very hardworking and I'm sure that this was no exception. She deserves good things and I'm happy for her. She isn't a bad person. And I could be one of Those Girls too, if I wanted, I could let go of my inhibitions about everything in life and start wearing makeup and dressing myself nicely and fuck, I don't know, going out to drink?


I feel like maybe there's also a lot of pressure on me to want to go into med. My dad is a physician, and I'm doing lab work in a medical science lab, and I guess the other lab I was in was medical science too. I have good grades and a desire to help people and I'm interested in biology and health research. I still feel like I could do it... it I wanted to. Do I want to? I don't know. I do want to do a master's degree, or a Ph.D. I do want to work in science. I've considered a job outside of academia, in industry. I've considered programs to become a genetic counselor and a cytogenetic technologist. I don't really know what I want to do.

And med always looks so impressive- just like law or dentistry would too, I'd imagine. But med always seems to take the cake. Everyone has such high respect for doctors (rightfully so), everyone knows medical school is hard to get into and hard to complete and that a life of work as a doctor is challenging and demanding but also rewarding and part of that reward, I think, is being judged very positively in your community for your vocation. I can't lie and say none of that appeals to me. But I think I need to make a career choice based on the fact that I love the work I am doing and it feels important and rewarding to me. But it still feels like I'm always going to be ranked against my peers that went into med.

I have friends that want to get into med (and I have no doubt they will). Redbeard wants to get into med (and again, no doubt). These people are all smart and talented and hardworking- just like my first year roommate. Just like me, I hope. But I feel like no matter what I do, especially at this point in my life, it's never going to look as impressive. That people will judge them as smarter and more talented and harder working than me (and consequently all the other kids who don't do med or any professional program but instead do research or go into industry, or even teaching, which I guess counts as a professional program of sorts anyway). There's such prestige associated with getting into med, and that's what I want.

It feels stupid but it's human, and I know that. It's human to want to be praised and thought of as a good, smart kid- I want the things I do to reflect well on my parents, too, even though I know it's not my job to make them look good by having their offspring succeed. I know my dad would be happy that one of his kids followed in his footsteps. I know my parents would be able to help me since they're both involved in health careers.

I just... I think about medicine. I think about learning about the body and how it works, and that seems cool. I think about applying that to actual people, and... ick. I think about long days and charts and paperwork, and billings. I know my dad loves his job. I don't think I've ever heard of or met a doctor who didn't love theirs. I just don't know if it's for me and I feel like there's so much pressure on me to keep that option on the fence all the time.

Sometimes I wonder if arts degrees are appealing for that reason. Because maybe if I just got an English degree instead, everyone who knows what my dad does would shut up about asking me if I want to get into med. I know these people mean well, I'm not mad at them, they're certainly not trying to offend. But god, I'm so tired of getting asked and having to answer. They don't react one way or the other when I tell them maybe or just plain out "no, I don't think so." But I can never fully commit one way or the other and it feels like there is always some kind of silent pressure on me to swing towards yes, and I think it's because I'm in a field that's so close already. Do you know how many times in first year I heard biology majors say they wanted to go into med? It's like half the program here has their heart set on being doctors. It's insane.

I think the jealousy too is that like- the hardest part is over, and I think a lot of people would agree with me on that. In med, you have classmates and instructors who want you to stay in the program and will help you out. Once you finish, you can get a job anywhere you want, and it will pay well. You barely have to plan your life out anymore. And that- that- is what I think is most tempting. The security- not just financially, but like, in terms of thinking. I'm sitting here wondering, is it worthwhile to get my masters and then my PhD, or should I just get a PhD, but will that even be useful? Should I bother doing special training programs for biotech? I think I want to work in industry for a while because I like the idea of applying results more than just generating them, like in academia. But what if I take those courses and get in there and hate it? But in academia you have to be so much to the community, you have to teach and research and be involved... Like, if I was just in med, I could just say "all right, now I can just focus on the next two years of class. Then, I can just focus on the two years of"... fuck, is it residency? I don't know how med school works. Then the big decision is specializing, and getting through that training, and more residency, and then you have to start out and deal with hurdles like that but then you just... keep... working. And it feels like you get like built-in job security because we always need doctors. And if you're something special like a highly trained surgeon your job is high stress and high reward and you will always been in demand. Always. Whereas in industry... I'll be competing forever.



I've just had a really bad day, and everything sucks right now and I have one year of my degree left and I have NO IDEA what to do with my life. I know I should just concentrate on my classes and clubs and having a good final year and working hard and learning what I can from my research project. This year I was given opportunities to present which let me learn that I have some good presentation skills, even if they do need a little honing; with help, I was able to design really good, logical presentations and learned what should and shouldn't go into them and that you NEED TO MAKE GRAPH TEXT REALLY BIG and I actually had so much fun with that and felt so confident afterwards. I loved my research project. So maybe I am talented? Maybe? Maybe I'm good at writing too, even if that needs a little honing? I realized the other day when hearing that a program required 3 reference letters that I had at least 4 people I could ask who are all big fancy PhD people.

Maybe I'm doing something right after all??

I still wish lab jobs paid minimum wage, though.

-swegan

Strict

I'm pretty sure that when it comes to the ideal child, I hit it pretty close.

I know how vain that sounds, I get it. But I'm starting to think there's a great deal of evidence for it. When my parents made rules, I obeyed them, no matter how much my friends insisted it was unfair or wrong. There may have been times when I was tempted to rebel, in simple, tiny ways, but I never did. I was always too afraid.

Hearing the stories of other kids who grew up with strict parents is always interesting. Most of them are online, a few are real life, and all of them make me think that my parents weren't nearly that bad. I was allowed to have friends over if I wanted. When I got a car (and hey,  I got a car), I was allowed to go places as long as I told my parents where I'd be going, who would be there, and when I'd be back, and gave them the address of where it was. Which I guess seems reasonable. I know they were just worried. It wasn't like they never allowed me to go out. Freckles and I got bothered about practicing piano a bunch, but we were never forced to practice, though my mom tried several reward techniques. After a certain age, we were allowed to monitor our own junk food intake- not that there was much in the house to begin with. We were allowed to have friends over and sleepovers and eventually, to walk to the corner store alone. When I became a teenager, my mom finally let me ride my bike further than just up and down the street in front of the house. When I graduated, my mom let me go to a grad party at the last minute, despite the fact that a month earlier she and my dad had barely let me out for a different one. I got a cell phone in high school. I had a very decent allowance. We were allowed to hang out at the mall unsupervised with friends. As I got older, they got much more lenient.

But then I think about how I'm so scared of life now. Being here, being away from home, has helped so much; I'm not afraid to get on the bus for an hour to go get my skates sharpened (that was a bad choice of location on my part). I'm not afraid to just walk down my own street and window shop. I'm not afraid to be out when I please. But I'm still afraid. More so of big adult things, like getting a credit card on my own, or spending large amounts of money, or making my own travel plans, but still.

I'm not really sure if that comes from me or my parents. On the one hand, big adult things are scary for a lot of people, even those who had really lenient parents. Some people just don't like to go out and explore much, that's just how they are. On the other hand, I do know people who just... for them, trying new things or giving themselves permission to do something they love or even just find something they love- it's easier for them. I can tell.

I just wonder- because there were so many things I wasn't allowed to do because my parents were concerned, am I forever destined to be the annoying person who worries about everything? "Let's go out drinking! Swegan, do you want to come?" Sure, but I don't want to drink, and how are you guys getting home? Does anyone need a ride? Okay, but no puking in my car. Where is this place? Are you sure that part of town is safe? "Just order something new, like I'm ordering this drink and I've never had it before." Yeah, but what if I hate it? Then I've spent money on something I don't even like. And it's wasted on me. It just goes down the drain, or in the trash. "In order to participate in this, you're gonna need to have [things I do not currently own]." Okay, but I don't really know if I like this yet. Am I sure I want to buy all this stuff? What if I hate it? Then I've wasted a bunch of money and now I have crap I don't need and will never use taking up space. "So just sell it online." How? Don't you have to make an account somewhere? How do I meet up with people? How do I decide on a price? What if they're creepy? It's better just to not bother, then I don't have to worry at all. "Just get a credit card." Okay, but I look really young and naive. How am I supposed to know if the bank is pulling a fast one over me? How do I know if I'm getting a shitty deal that will end up costing me money? And how do I pay that off? Isn't it time consuming? I'd have to go to the bank... I'll just do it later. "Skating hours are Sunday from 3-4:45." Okay, but those hours are prime homework time for me. I really want to skate, but... school's gotta come first. I'll see how it looks next Sunday... ooh, but wait, I won't be here. Well, maybe the Sunday after? (Then I consequently forget). "Come hang out." But I have all this stuff I want to get done so I'm not up working until 11. I need to get enough sleep. If I don't, I get dizzy and grumpy and it's no fun at all. Plus I want to make sure I study adequately for this exam. I have to get these things done. I have to get SOMETHING done, I haven't done anything all day.

Do you see what I mean? I never let myself do anything. And it sounds a bit like my worries are overwhelming the way I've phrased it, but they're really not. This is just how I think. This is how I operate. Unless I can completely justify doing something 100%, unless I'm completely (or reasonably) sure it's a good idea, unless I'm totally convinced there's really no chance of it messing my life up or ME messing my life up, I just won't do it. And sometimes it doesn't really matter, like when I order my favourite thing at a restaurant all the time, but other times it does, like when I can't get a credit card and thus still haven't built up any credit at all.

Sometimes I think it helps to think of all the things I just do now that my parents are none the wiser about. They don't know my study habits, or my eating habits. They don't know that sometimes I leave my building at 10:30 and walk down the dark alley to Safeway. They don't know that sometimes I go for walks in the river valley and get lost. They don't know that I rode the bus into the north end of town for an hour, maybe into a questionable area, just to get my skates sharpened. They... well, okay, they know I took the bus home from the airport instead of just calling a cab. I just... I know these are stupid, tiny little things. I do. But to be able to live my life, at least in part, like it's really mine, like I get to decide how I spend my time, is incredibly freeing. Which is what makes me think my upbringing was "strict" in any way at all.

I know I'm still a stick in the mud, despite the fact that I know people don't hate me. People like me, but they also find me amusing. I worry about everything. Constantly. I can't stop it. I don't really want to. I didn't spend my teenage years running about, doing what I wanted to. I spent a lot of them at home, in my room, doing homework (there's the other thing- I was and remain a very boringly good student. In science, no less).

This may explain why I found it so wonderful when I was finally allowed to drive myself to school, even though I was still late. For some reason, being late when it was my fault didn't give me nearly as much anxiety as when I was late and exactly who was at fault was less clear. Because driving myself to school allowed me, in some small way, to control my own life. Not to mention I got home a hell of a lot earlier, and my parents didn't have to deal with having to come pick me up.

I'm still not good at this. I think maybe it's just that a lot of other people I know had to grow up much sooner than I did. I was given the luxury of remaining a child when I was still a child. Now I have to grow up, and when it seems like everyone around me is just unafraid to do simple things because they want to do them, I feel very, very lame. Sometimes it feels like I'll never catch up, like I'll forever be a step behind my friends as we progress into our adult lives. Sometimes I wonder if I'm only so intensely self-aware of this because I'm growing up now, rather than at 11 or 13 or 16.

The other thing that I know to be true is that one day I won't have my parents to lean upon. I won't have them around to tell me what to do, even when I want them to tell me. I've gotta have my shit figured out by then if I have any hope of coping.

As for my parents being strict... the issue is best summarized by explaining the facebook rule: I wasn't allowed to make an account until they said so. This is a weird rule; it's pretty hard to enforce (and was considering neither of my parents were on facebook at the time) or police, and yet I never even thought about going against it. And I didn't. Perhaps this says something about my parents' ability to trust me (and I am glad now that I wasn't permitted access to something that permanent when I was 13, oh my god), but I also think it says a lot about me. Or the time my parents forced me to write all my grade 10 exams, even though I was exempt due to my grades (they argued that there weren't going to be exemptions later and I should learn how to study now). Everyone (including my teachers) thought that was insanely unfair, and asked why I didn't just... not do it. And I could have, too; my mom never followed me into the school when she dropped me off. I could have just sat in the hallways or a bathroom for a long enough time that it would make it seem like I had finished the test, and called them to pick me up, and lied through my teeth. "How was the exam?" "Fine." But no, I went and wrote them all anyway.

Long story short: I don't have an ounce of rebellion in me, at least not when it comes to my parents, and I still don't know if that's because of me or them.

yer pal,
swegan

FUCKING VOTE

It bothers me to no end when friends I have say that they're not going to vote. They offer up excuses- the most common of which is "I just don't care"- and it is so infuriating. To hear that so little of the population votes is even more so. THERE IS NO EXCUSE NOT TO VOTE. NONE. Canadians living in other countries are figuring out how to vote. There is no excuse for you to be lazy and irresponsible.

Don't care? Too bad. Democracy only works if you take the time to figure out who you think should be making our country's big decisions. If democracy isn't working, it's your fault. I'm not even kidding. It's not the fault of the politicians, it is the fault of people who did (or didn't!) vote them in. So don't bitch to me about how the government sucks when you didn't take the time to fucking vote.

"I don't have time to get informed" too bad, it is your goddamn responsibility, take half an hour to skim through the platforms and make a decision about what matters to you. Pay attention to the news. Decide what issues matter to you personally and which person, or party, or whatever, is going to best represent those. You have no excuse for being lazy, I'm just... augh. AUGH. VOTE. PLEASE.

This isn't even because I want Harper out (which I do, but if you wanna vote for Harper, you have every right to do so and I will not stop you). This is just because democracy only works if people fucking participate. Your voice matters. Your vote matters. It's not even hard. You stand in line, you mark a circle, you hand in a slip of paper. Done. Boom. You are legally required to get time off work. There are advanced polls. You can mail in a ballot. Figure out how you're going to do it, and then do it.

Apathy is no excuse. Being ill informed is no excuse. "But my vote is just one of millions!" is no excuse. You are lucky, you are privileged to be born in a country in which you are able to have a say in who governs you. I will smack you with a fish if you try to tell me otherwise. There are people in the world who can't vote. There have been suffrage movements to get certain types of people to vote.

The only honest-to-god excuses I can think of are if you're living in Canada and haven't gotten your citizenship yet (I honestly do not know how that works, but you probably do), or if you're under 18. If you're a citizen over 18, you have to vote. Why? I said so. Democracy says so. Just do it. Don't make me smack you with a fish.

It's a privilege, a right, and a goddamn responsibility. Please, fellow Canadians- and, what the hey, anyone living in a democratic country- FUCKING VOTE.

yer pal,
swegan

Competition

A long time ago, an aunt of mine shared an article on facebook. I don't remember exactly what the title was, but I do remember that the jist of the article was about "don't do so much! Slow down and enjoy life!" I remember feeling incredibly bitter about that. How in the fuck, I thought, am I supposed to slow down and yet compete with everyone my age for the same scholarships and jobs??

Of course, the article's intended audience was obviously people around my aunt's age: people who have already done any post-secondary they might intend to do, people who are no longer young, people who have had kids and gotten married and worked for quite a while. You know, like, real adults. People with established careers and nice houses and cars, shit like that. I am not one of those people, obviously.

A lot of my insecurity about the stuff in the last post revolves around this. I'm happy not doing a lot, for the most part. I feel like I ought to be more well-rounded, but a lot of the worry there comes from the fact that I'm painfully aware of how well other people my own age are doing. This, coupled with the fact that I've always felt like I'm in the bottom of the top of the heap, gives me quite a bit of anxiety. I've never had a leadership position in my life. I'm not one of those kids who gets Really Good Holy Shit Amazing grades (and I get pissed whenever a character in a book that is depicted as Smart has a 4.0, because I know literally nobody with a 4.0 (or if they have one, they're not telling me)), I'm just one of those kids who gets Grades That Are Good. Like, my GPA isn't bad, but I'm always so aware of the fact that it could be better by it being LITERALLY 0.1 BELOW WHAT I'D NEED TO GET ON THE HONOR ROLL (I am so mad about this, in case you couldn't tell). I have some volunteer experience, but I'm always aware of the fact that I could have more (and the bulk of mine is from high school, anyway).

The other issue is that I tend to befriend people and like people who, at least in my eyes, can successfully do this- volunteer in things, get actually really good grades, maintain a group of friends. Win scholarships. That sort of shit. Some of them excel in certain categories more than others, but that's just the thing: they excel. I've never really felt like I excelled at anything. The only time I remember being the best was in 7th grade when the unofficial class appointed #1 smart kid left for four months, and I, as the unofficial class appointed #2 smart kid, became #1 for a brief and glorious period of time. I was never the best at piano. I was never the best at dance. I was never the best at writing (though, I suppose, I was the most prolific of anyone I knew for quite some time).

I still feel that way, that I'm this weird kind of Good Mediocre, that I'm doing okay, but I could still be doing better. And I feel that I can't just sit there, complacent, and accept that I'll probably get somewhere being Good Mediocre, because I feel like- and this is compounded by the fact that I attend a large university- there are literally hundreds of thousands of my peers who are competing for the same stuff I am. I know that's not quite accurate; my university isn't that big, nor is my faculty (though it is the biggest), nor is my specialty, nor is the group of people interested in my field of interest (medical research, at the moment). But there are still other kids out there, and they are studying harder and volunteering more and winning more awards than I am, and they are always out there.

I know I should strive to do better, all that, but honestly, sometimes I feel like I'm already doing as much as I can reasonably expect of myself, and other times I look at the amount of effort other kids put into assignments I decided were not worth that much stress, and I think there's your problem. While other kids are doing shit like going to the prof and the TAs and spending hours working over some god-awful what-the-fuck-is-this genetics problem set, I said "this is worth 5% of my grade and my biochem midterm next week is worth 40%" (and yet I still did not study hard enough for that biochem midterm) and consequently put in about 8 times less effort into the problem set. Unless those kids are lying (which, if you are, literally go fuck yourselves I hate you), it feels like I'm not doing enough. Constantly. Which is annoying, because I know how to fix some of those problems, but not all of them, and all of it stresses me out probably more than the aspect of getting a degree and having to venture off into the real world.

Then, I think, there are still heaps of students who say things like "I don't feel like going to class today, let's go get lattes" or who sit in class and look at tumblr and facebook and youtube instead of paying attention. I am definitely doing better than those kids: I save my tumblr and facebook and youtube for when I'm at home and supposed to be reading some stupidly boring chapter in my chemistry textbook (guess what, I barely did any of the reading for all 4 chem courses, and I've passed them all with varying kinds of Bs), or for after the hour of 8 (or 9, or even 10, depending on the point of the semester) when I know I'm not productive anymore and can't get anything done. But I don't really care about those kids. They're not even good competition.

And in that, I think- maybe those kids who are trying that hard are good to have around, because they make me try harder. Wouldn't I just get lazy if I knew I was already at the top? Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe I should just accept that I'm not the best- certainly not at everything, maybe not at anything right now. I'm still good enough to get a few awards, I still push myself enough to participate in a few things outside of class, I still have a pretty decent social circle. And maybe, because it's August and this is probably one of the last summers of my life during which I get to be this lazy, I should go and watch TV with my sister.

yer pal,
swegan

Hierarchy

This whole boy fiasco, lovely as it has been, has forced me to confront a rather unfortunate way of thinking. It seems I picked it up about 8 years ago, and despite how far I've come since then, I still can't get rid of it.

See, I told the boy that he was the first normal boy to like me. Which is, of course, ridiculous, as normal is a stupid concept with no meaning and no clear definition and one that is used to make people feel like outsiders. You're not normal. The reason I said it was because he is the first boy to like me who isn't incredibly nerdy. You know, the video game playing, slightly antisocial, obsessed-with-things-like-star-wars kind of boys. Nerds. Geeks. And I had decided oh, okay, these are the only kinds of boys that I'm ever going to get to be with, and that's okay, they're not so bad, and I guess I'm pretty nerdy too. Only the thing is, there's a lot of girls out there way nerdier than me, and they fit with those boys a hell of a lot better than I do.

But some part of my brain is still 12 years old, because I was phrasing this to myself in the way of normal boys don't like me. They never will. That's ok. Which is fucked up, because what I was really saying was I would really like to date a boy who isn't obsessed with video games but I am convinced that that is never going to happen based on extremely limited past experience.

Those boys that I would be able to date, from what I can tell, were not popular in school. They're the stereotypical losers, the ones that always get teased in movies, the ones that get told no girl will ever like them. My mom used to say that the boys that liked me probably did because I was nice to them, and nobody is ever nice to them, much less any girl, was the unspoken end of the sentence. This was probably true then, but it's an incredibly fucked up way to think now. And through this, I thought, this makes sense: I am a loser like them, I am not normal, I don't fit in. I always wanted to have one of the boys who did fit in, but I had convinced myself that that was never going to happen because I didn't fit in and that didn't happen and it's really amazing how I only spent three years of my life being classified as a loser and yet how badly I internalized it.

If there's anything high school and subsequently university and the real world have taught me, it's that thinking of people in this way gets you nowhere. You miss out on opportunities to get to know really cool people by being a judgemental asshole who looks down at people who are different. And the people I admired, the people I really liked, never seemed to care. They'd befriend anybody, no matter what they looked like or what their hobbies were or how weird or abnormal or whatever they might be. And when I first got to high school, I was still trying to look down on people who might be weirder than me, still trying to convince myself that I wasn't at the very bottom, and I met people who didn't think that way and accepted me as I was and that was a big shift for me.

Now this is happening. I'm thrilled that it's happening, and I'm trying very hard to work through this shit, because I feel awful for thinking this about people- thinking there are normal people and losers- and thinking it about myself- that I'm still not one of the normal ones. Now it comes through when I realize I don't know how to be a girl "correctly", I never did, I never naturally went to makeup and fashion, I never got that. I still don't. So I stand behind these girls in the elevator of my building, with their perfect hair in cute hairstyles they somehow picked up, their flawless makeup done with skills they somehow picked up, their artfully matched clothes, popular yet their own, done in a style that they somehow picked up, and I know girls like that can be perfectly nice but some of them still give me looks like I got when I was 12 and it just sucks because I'm standing there in jeans and a t-shirt and big ugly boots and my bangs are stuck to my forehead, which is covered with zits I don't know how to hide because I never learned how, and my hair is pulled back in a shitty braid because I keep it long and never know what to do with it. And I feel like a loser all over again, and I think, he must like girls like this, girls who know how to be girls, girls who know what they are doing, and then it turns out that no, no, people aren't as fake as I think they always are, people are capable of liking people like me because there's nothing wrong with me in the first place, and people are better than I give them credit for most of the time.

I don't know why unlearning this is so hard. I don't know why I still act this way, like I have to put myself above people who are even more "loserly" than me in an effort to get up with the girls who know how to be girls. Because it's mean, and petty, and stupid, and costs me a lot of meaningful relationships. But it is effort for me still to live in the real world and not look at their world as pretty and perfect and beautiful. Even if it is, I have to not care. My life will not be any better if I figure out how to apply eyeliner and wear those long, layered necklaces, and learn to french braid my hair. My life will not be any better if I go out drinking with them, and party with them, and study the way they do. My life doesn't necessarily improve if I learn how to "be a girl" better.

My life is already filled with real and interesting people, who aren't just pretty pictures. They are their own people, they are kind and smart and generous, and they are real and warm and loving. I don't live on a magazine cover. I don't know why I keep feeling like my life is empty when it's so full.

But this is what's behind all that, behind me just saying "He's normal, and he likes me." He's not normal, neither am I, and yet we both are. We're human. We're people. We're falling in love with each other. I need to let that be enough.

Maybe, though, just maybe, this is what finally gets me over this way of thinking. The boys I dated before were perfectly good boys, they were kind and caring and sweet and didn't wish me harm, we just didn't work. For both of them, I wish only the best, and the nicest, kindest, nerdiest girls who will love all the shit they do.

yer pal,
swegan

Edit: I should probably give those girls in the elevator more credit, too. The nastiest they've been to me so far is just the looks, nobody's ever said anything mean to my face, and they did welcome me into their group at one point. I don't know what kind of people they are, I just know that they look at me like people who were nasty to me once.

And they're still there getting degrees alongside me, they have just as much a chance as greatness as me. The universe doesn't owe me anything for all the shit I put up with, and despite how much they tell you the popular kids won't succeed- oh, they will. They'll be right there next to you. And that kind of sucks to think about.

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,
swegan

On Writing

Hey, if Stephen King can write a whole book on this, I can write a blog post on it.

I often wish I wrote differently. Like, I read a lot of writing, I think I know what good writing sounds like at this point. But I can't be one of those poets who writes those long-ass poems you read on tumblr, what with all their flowery language that somehow makes you feel cool while reading it. I can't write good essays, I mean like I write good essays, but writing essays isn't my calling, you know? Like I have the ability to write stuff and not have it sound like crap, but not have it not sound like crap enough to show it to anybody, ever.

I miss it.

I miss writing now more than ever, what with my miserable horrible feelings for people that I feel absolutely horrible about because the key word there is people and not person and I don't know how to deal with that. I miss writing when exams are piling up on me and I have to pass ochem, I have to, so that I don't have to take it again, and I miss writing when it's 2 AM and I'm bored to tears and there's nothing at ALL for me to do on the internet.

But everytime I try to go back, I cringe. There was some period of my life when I could suppress the inner editor, when I was like "what I write is absolute fucking garbage that reads like the worst fanfiction you've ever read except about my own characters instead of someone else's" and it was fine because nobody had to read it. Except then I had to quit for practical reasons and there is nothing else I regret more.

I know, I know. I'm not supposed to live with regrets, and I really try not to do that. I have very few regrets in life. The list is probably: 90% of my actions in middle school, not ending my high school relationship 8 months sooner, and quitting writing. That's it, that's my whole list of life regrets. Out of all the things I've done on this earth, those are the ones I wish I hadn't. But this one really bugs me, because now I am friends with someone who actually writes a LOT, and I am intimidated by it because I miss it so much.

But I look at my writing, which is all YA-targeted (mostly because I did it when I was a young adult myself) and bad. I have read many a YA book (adult books bore me to tears and have too much sex), I know what good YA sounds like. It is not my writing.

Yes, yes, I know, I know, first drafts are always terrible. Always! But the problem with me is that I'm far too lazy to go back and edit my own writing. It's one thing when it's a 5-6 page essay for my Women's and Gender Studies class. It's another thing when it's a 40K word novel I wrote that has the shakiest plot foundation ever. It's much easier to correct arguments in a paper I have to write for class than it is to build a stable world in which two characters would end up going on a road trip together. How would that even happen? Argh.

This whole post doesn't even sound like me. It sounds like someone trying to be good at writing, and that weirds me out. It's like I've become too self aware now. I don't know how to lose myself anymore. Everything has to have structure and make sense and blah blah blah whatEVer, I want to lose myself again.

I want to be able to write that crappy fanfiction-style Camp Lame-o shit that I used to. I want to be able to do that, to get carried away in oh-so-convenient plots that just HAPPEN to throw my very own self-created OTP together every single time. That is my favourite thing to write: create two characters with hella romantic tension and throw them together. What will happen? I don't know, but it'll be fun! And crappy!

My current plans for next NaNo are very much along these lines. I debated just spending the whole of November listening to Shania Twain and writing the cheesiest fucking country romance I could think of, but that became a problem because 1) I know nothing about cowboys, and 2) I cannot spend that long blushing. Blushing, why? Because I would be constantly embarrassed that I would be writing that, even if nobody else ever read it and nobody ever would.

I still need to find a use for that poem I wrote, though. I'm ridiculously proud of it, and I know that I could one day recite it to my kids as I put them to sleep/read it as a fucking vow at my wedding or something (it is that versatile, ladies and gentlemen, and it is abso-fucking-lutely that cheesy) but like those events are like 7-10 years away and I CAN'T WAIT THAT LONG.


I kind of ran out of steam there. I think I've said all I want to say on that topic for right now.

yer pal,
swegan

*That* girl

Basically all of my life, I have been somewhat underweight.

I was a very short kid, my mom was a dietician and has a BSc in Nutrition, and I danced about 5 nights a week. I was lucky enough to be one of those girls who, during my teenage years, really didn't have to worry about what I ate. My mom made pretty much all of my food, and that was always healthy, and even though I complained about not getting the same kinds of snacks in my lunch as the other kids and not eating dessert at all until I was like 12 (seriously, dessert for me is still not something that is "required" after a meal), I know that it was just mom looking out for me and trying to keep me healthy.

Of course, now I am living away from home (and I miss home food terribly). The food in my building is good, that's for sure- lots of fruit and vegetables all the time, and meals at very regular times, which is something I appreciate- although I have become more picky about it and as a result, eat less and less of it.

Last semester, I decided that restricting myself from eating what I wanted was silly, as long as I didn't spend too much money. That did not turn out well for me. I mean, obviously I'm still fine, but since then I have decided that that mantra is not a good idea. Not only did I waste a shitton of money, I ate a lot of crap. Like, a lot. And I mean, I'm young, I'm in university, it's almost expected that I gain weight at some point. I think I've avoided that thanks to avoiding uni campus "dining halls" and meal plans, but I'm still kind of restricted in what I eat. The meal plan here is already paid for until the end of the year, so I can't really cook for myself that much.

This is why the whole "fitness movement" type stuff (especially "fitspo" etc) on the internet really bugs me, especially when it says "what's your excuse?" my excuse is that I live on a meal plan because I am a student, you twat. If I want to get good grades and maintain a social life and enjoy myself, it becomes very hard to fit in waking up at 5 AM to go running every day. Plus, I live in Canada. It's fucking cold outside. I know some people can run in winter, but that requires some kind of special workout gear or whatever. So if I want to do that, I have to invest time and money into figuring it out. And as for a gym- I'm too self conscious about my complete and total lack of fitness knowledge to even bother to go, since I wouldn't know how to use the machines, and I don't have a plan or anything.

Furthermore, eating healthy is expensive. Frozen pizza is pretty darn cheap, from what I understand.

And yet every time I think of these reasons why I cannot for the life of me commit to changing my entire lifestyle right at this moment, there is still a part of me that thinks "but those are just excuses. If you really wanted this you would do it instead of being lazy." Which I think is ridiculous. Not everyone has the money and time to devote to changing their whole entire life.

What I wish fitness movements were about was encouraging people to work to the level they are comfortable at. Like, maybe I can't restructure my whole entire diet. But I can try not buying extra junk food so much. Maybe I don't have the time to figure out how to make time for exercising every single day. But I know that if I leave a little earlier, I can walk to school daily, and I can take a very intense exercise class once a week. Those are all things that are good for my health, and yet I still feel like by the standards of Fitness Types Everywhere, I am failing.

This doesn't even include the standards of Beauty. Basically every kind of media I see- movies, TV shows (when I get around to watching them), shit, even some youtube videos (ESPECIALLY music videos) have girls that are tiny, with flat stomachs and nice cheekbones and all those other things I get self conscious about. Recently, that kind of stuff has really been getting to me, especially considering all the weight I have gained last semester and over the summer (when I probably bought chocolate pretzels from bulk barn at least once a week, possibly more).

I know these things are ridiculous. I know it is stupid, because I am smart and funny and kind and those things should matter far more than how much I weigh or whether or not I have "the right" cheekbones or cellulite. But they still get to me. Sometimes it is just in the form of "These pretty dresses I have don't fit me anymore!" which is like well, duh, you bought those two years ago and since then you've moved out and started university. Sometimes it is shopping for school clothes with mom and getting comments like "weren't you wearing (slightly smaller pants size) last year?" or something like that. Sometimes it is even just acknowledging that I know people who are very fit and in shape or who don't weigh very much (sometimes that is just by virtue of their genes or body type). Often, it is stupid fitness stuff on the internet.

I wish I could be satisfied with myself for making small changes within my life. I wish I could feel like walking more and eating less junk food and taking a TRX class was acceptable. There is still a big part of me that insists that You used to be so skinny. All your life, you have been a skinny girl. The skinniest. With a BMI that is underweight. What happened to you? Who are you now? and it's like without the identity of being the super super super tiny girl, I have to define myself by other things. I never had to worry about my weight or what I was eating before. Ever. Never in my life have I had this stress. I don't like it. I miss being able to just eat whatever I wanted and still have a BMI of like, 17.8 because that was how I was, and I don't like this new realm of motherly advice consisting of weight-related things.

But I feel like the only way to go back to being the way I was is to be that girl. The girl who denies herself everything, who says "no cake for me, thanks" or "I don't really do dessert" or "can we get something else instead of pizza?" or "I'll just have a salad" (I have nothing against salads, but there is something about saying "I'll just have a salad" that implies restrictions) or who makes herself go running and works out every single day and never, ever, ever touches a cheeto or a potato chip or a brownie. I do not want to be that girl. I don't want to deny myself food because I'm scared of being fat, I don't want to work out every single day for a flat stomach and a thigh gap, and yet I feel shitty about it.

I don't want to be that girl, I don't want to be fat, I don't want to be unhealthy, I don't want to continue to get comments from mom about "don't let your thighs get lumpy and ugly" or "you're growing out and not up now so you have to watch what you eat" or "do you really need that size of jeans now?"

I don't know what to do beyond continue on my present course of baby steps because it's still better than doing nothing. My relationship with food has clearly become very complicated and annoying. I don't want to analyze everything for its nutritional value before eating it. I don't want to feel guilty for eating junk food, or carbs, or sugar, like by doing so I've done something wrong. But I don't want to look the way I do now, and that seems seriously fucked up to me because I'm pretty sure I am within the range of normal health right now.

yer pal,
swegan :S

ok but like what even is love

I'm for serious on this one

Like, everyone describes it as something so overwhelming and amazing and "I love you more every day." This makes me worried because I definitely do not feel overwhelmed by my relationship with Ptarckas, and the way I feel about him is definitely not overwhelming or exciting or a huge rush. I just like hanging out with him and talking to him and doing stuff together, no matter what it is.

I suppose there was one point in the relationship near the beginning when everything was very exciting and new and I maybe did feel like that. I still feel like I love him, but I don't really know what that means. I don't want to see him hurt, I want him to be happy, and I enjoy being around him. Is that really all that love is?

I just feel so lied to. Pop culture paints love as very different from this, and I kind of feel like literature does as well. But it seems like it would be absolutely exhausting to feel that way about someone all the time, not to mention distracting. I have school to focus on- I can't be distracted by being starry-eyed all the time.

For now, I have decided that if we both like this arrangement we have and we both feel like we love each other, we really shouldn't care what other people think. If that's how this is going to work, then that's how it's going to work.


The only thing I have for sure right now is that we discussed this earlier, and the tone of the conversation made me very afraid we were heading for disaster. That was distracting. I was sick with worry, even though it really turned out to be nothing- but the relief I felt was still overwhelming. I don't know if this is just me being stubborn or if I'm just used to this- I don't know. I just knew that if we were to stop seeing each other, I would be really sad and lonely, and I didn't like the idea that he would be too. So it seems like continuing the relationship is the logical idea...

Ugh. I don't know how to do this. But I guess that's what being young is for?

yer pal,
swegan :S

Failsafe

I was talking to Ptarckas about this today after I got a B+ on a presentation/essay (I'm not sure if it was for both or for one, but either way it's pretty good) and I started thinking about what GPA that B+ will convert to, and I think it's around 3.

To begin, there are a few things I think I could do with this degree I'm pursuing
1) Go into a professional program (medicine, dentistry, pharmacy, education, nursing, etc)
2) Go to graduate school
3) Attempt to get work experience so that I can get a job later (via internship program at my uni)
This is really all I can see coming out of a BSc in biology. I don't know what the fuck else to do with it. Professional, research, or some kind of career... which I would probably need at least a graduate degree to go farther in. I don't think there's actually much I can do with my degree on its own, it's more of a building block.

The problem, per se, is that I need it to be a good building block. I know that to get into grad school, I need a GPA of at least 3.0 for my last 60 credits or something and then probably letters of reference and stuff. For professional programs, I'm of the impression that I need good grades, volunteering hours, and work/research experience. Which is a lot to balance at once. For work experience, I need to have a good resume and then good interview skills and obviously, an employer willing to hire me. My position as a general student doesn't help that, unfortunately, but I can't even apply to that until next year so if I find something I want to specialize in in the meantime, I guess I can do that.

Today was just a bunch of worrying what if based on that B+. What if my grades aren't good enough to get into grad school? What if I can't get an internship? What if I can't get into a professional program (should I choose to go that route)? It just worries me that I could theoretically fail at all of these options. I could theoretically not go anywhere with my life.

I mean, this is a narrow and limited view, probably because I'm young and inexperienced. But it seems to me that I don't have something I can fall back on- some kind of career or experience or SOMETHING that it would be really, really hard for me to fail at.

That's how I got through IB for a large part- I knew that I'd already been accepted to a university and that even if I bombed all my IB exams, I'd still go to university. It really took the pressure off, although I still put pressure on myself to do well, study hard, etc. And I did pretty well on my exams in the end.

I just feel like now I have to put so much pressure on myself, and I have to be competitive, too. Sometimes it feels like I'm battling hundreds or thousands of other people for the same positions and jobs, that there are a whole bunch of other people in my field who want the same things I do and who are willing to work harder than me to get them.

Every time I don't do all the extra practice questions, I feel like shit about myself. Like with biology this semester, there are peer assisted learning sessions every week I can go to, but I never really feel like I need to. So far I feel like I understand everything, that I have a good grasp on all the material, I just need to review it because we learned some of it weeks ago already and I need it to be fresher. But it all makes sense to me (and labs have helped). So to me, going to these PAL sessions would be a waste of time. I already understand things, I'll go to a session when I don't understand something. But when I don't go, I constantly feel like going would have helped anyway, but I don't want to bother to put in the effort (the only one I can attend cuts into my lunch on Wednesdays).

I guess I'm just worried that I won't ever get anywhere. Especially because I'm lazy today, I don't feel like doing anything at all, and yet I have a midterm on Wednesday and a paper to organize and a lab tomorrow and I just don't want to do any of it.

Hopefully over thanksgiving I can get a bit of a break. That way I also don't have to pack heavy textbooks in my suitcase for the trip home...


And I mean, realistically, I know that things will work out somehow. Some way, somehow. As long as I keep trying and don't give up, I'll find a career I enjoy, and maybe it will be many careers, but I'll be okay. Besides, like I said, I'm young and inexperienced, so I should probably take myself with a grain of salt right now.

yer pal,
swegan

I did not want it to come to this

I just unfriended my brother on facebook.

Now I know some people won't think that facebook is even a big deal at all. And I'm sure other people might think "How could you do that to your own brother????" BUT, neither of those people read this blog... I think. I'm fully aware of how low my readership is but... ehh. that's not the point of this post.

First things first: My brother. Is. An. Asshole.

I mean, I love him, but god, he's an asshole. He is! My own mother has confirmed it. She won't let me swear ever, except when I am calling my brother an asshole. He's impossible to deal with. I don't like having him around because he aggravates everyone. He posts offensive things on facebook (hence why I have unfriended him). I don't want any of my friends to meet him. If I ever get married, I don't think I want him at my wedding.

All of this sucks. I don't like it either. But he seems hell bent on offending me lately, posting these horrendously offensive things because he knows they piss me off. I've listened to my mother describe his behaviour and that of his friends in the past, and it sounds exactly the same.

Just... we had him out at the cabin last week, and not only did he not offer to help with dishes or dinner ANY of the nights he was there, he also made a big scene at dinner by just... having annoying opinions that are really offensive and continuing on and on AND ON while my sister's friends had to sit and watch it, and it was so embarrassing. Later, when my sister's friends all decided to sleep together in one room and have a big sleepover kind of thing, he thumped on the floor when they were maybe giggling a bit too loud (this was at midnight, too- not even late). Passive aggressive much? He could have, I don't know, gone downstairs and asked them to be quiet?

He has a problem with everybody, and I'm sure he's only going to get worse now that I've unfriended him, but I don't care. My plan for the future is to avoid him as much as possible. I know my mom feels the same- she hates it because she feels like a bad mother, but shit, it's not her fault he's decided to behave this way. The only person he'll even listen to anymore is dad. NOT TO MENTION when we went to Ireland (a trip on which he paid for NOTHING, by the way) he started ranting about how "disrespectful it was" for mom to show up late for dinner. I was like, excuse me, who paid for you to be here? Of course I didn't act that way outwardly, I was an awkward mixture of trying to diffuse him (we were in a nice hotel and I didn't want to make a scene) and trying to agree with him (I have my own grievances about mom making me late, which I have acted on perhaps not so nicely in the past- and probably here, and frankly, I'm embarrassed about it). Another one of my sister's friends had to witness that, and she later said it was weird.

Honestly... dealing with him is like dealing with a 4 year old, only worse. He doesn't know how to be an adult, he doesn't know how to make polite conversation, and having him around is a liability since he's bound to embarrass us all at some point.

Most of why I've unfriended him is due to not wanting to see his offensive shit anymore (seconds before I did it, I commented on a selfie of his that I really enjoyed his facial expression, which was pretty great). I want him to be a part of my life, I do. I want to talk to him regularly, I want to be close to him, I want to want him at family events. I want to be close to him, but he makes it impossible. My family continually invites him to Christmases, birthdays, and on family vacations, and he continually acts like an ungrateful ass. Honestly at this point I'm embarrassed to be related to him, and I hate that I have to say that because I love him and want to have a relationship with him. He's my brother, for crying out loud.

Of course, I'm now afraid he might come by the house and blow up at me, call me a bitch to anyone who will listen, or ... shit, I don't know, slash my tires. What does it say about him that I wouldn't put any of that past him?

They say you're supposed to cut poisonous people out of your life. My brother has become a poisonous person. Because I love him and because I still want to have a working sibling relationship with him, I will hold out hope that he can change or at least learn to bite his tongue, and I will take him back if he proves he is willing to grow the fuck up. I want that to happen. But I can't do it for him. He has to change for himself, and I'm not going to sit around and listen to his shit while I wait for that to happen.

I'm sorry, brother. But this is what it has come to.

sincerely,
swegan

How To Fix Everything In My Fucking Life

I think lately why I've been feeling sad is because I keep feeling like I'm doing everything wrong. Like for starters, I need to show up earlier at work. There's another girl there who is studying for her MCATs by taking night courses at the same time as she's doing a summer of lab work and she comes in at 8:30, right when the lab opens. I need to research more at home so that I can actually understand what it is I'm researching and come to conclusions like I was asked to.
Furthermore, I stopped exercising. I need to do that because I am still gaining weight and too much more will be too much for my frame. Like I should be riding my bike, every day, at least five laps around the lake, and while I'm at it, I need to stop buying chocolate pretzels from bulk barn.
That way, I can save money to go out with friends, because I've fucked up at that, too. Does it matter that the movie starts at 10 on a weeknight? Of course not, I need to do these things with friends! Or else I won't have any!!!! Obviously all plans with friends must be attended. Friends are important. Friends are one of the most important things in the world.
While I'm on the subject of relationships, it seems like I should end my current one since I am dating someone who doesn't really have a direction. Who cares that he makes me happy! Who cares that I'm only 18??? I need to worry about the future NOW, obviously. And I need someone who will be able to support me financially when I inevitably have 2.5 kids at 30 and need to buy a house.
And on the topic of the future, I need to get my schooling together. Like start taking a foreign language, and volunteer more- obviously I need to do all of that AlbertaSat reading so that I can be super helpful, and I should be filling the newsletter with fun space news and interviews with people who work for the group. Oh, and I should really also enroll in a physics course- I only have two labs, I can handle the extra one. I'll just put it on Wednesday nights!!! No big deal, right? Of course not. Because if I'm going to go to med school, I'll need to get used to working hard.
Med school, you say? Well, of course! It's the only logical choice for someone like me because I'm hardworking and driven, and definitely smart enough to do it. Plus if I want to maintain this kind of lifestyle, I need to have a good job. It's either this or something like dentistry. Research isn't solid enough, and it requires a lot of school that is not as laid out as med school. Which is why I need to take physics!!! And foreign languages!! And volunteer more! I should probably spend my next summer break volunteering somewhere far away, only to come back to work at a lab job again, maybe in a different lab. And I need to make sure I keep my GPA above 3.5 so I can get research grants, because THOSE look really good on med school applications!!
And then with finances, I need to start investing in stuff, and putting money in an RRSP. And I need to stop spending so much- I should only spend on necessary stuff, like clothes. And time out with friends, I guess. Which is why I need to stop buying myself things like expensive swimsuits when they have them for $15 at target!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHA. OOPS.

AND THEN THE KICKER: I must do this all while pretending that I am ok. Lately I am walking around feeling like I am not allowed to not be ok, and telling my parents that I have felt sad for the past two weeks results in my mom insisting that it's because I spend all my time in my room. Thanks, mom. That's really helpful. That clearly also explains my sudden need to scream at anyone who drives the slightest bit incorrectly on the way home- before I start crying, that is.

I don't know what's wrong and lately I just feel like it's me. I am not doing things right. And the worst part is, there's really an easy way to fix this. It's just that now I feel like I might be too late in some areas, particularly the friends one. I've really fucked up there.

I guess all I can do is move forward and try. Maybe not with this, which would obviously make my parents happy (hooray, our daughter has plenty of friends and is normally social with good grades and bright doctor future ahead of her with her boyfriend who is also on the path to success and pays for dinner sometimes (yeah, that actually came up tonight)), but with friends, and with exercise. The rest, I don't know.

I don't know.


I think I'll start with riding my bike sometimes and doing more things with friends. I feel like that is, at the least, a good place to start. Maybe I have seriously fucked up some relationships. I can still try to fix them. Also I can fix my habits of being inconsistent with what time I will stay out until. Usually I am more willing to stay late if the event starts earlier than if it starts later. I need to quit being inconsistent like that.

One step at a time, I guess.

yer pal,
swegan

p.s. on an unrelated note, i have spent the weekend at my dad's cousin's cabin with her daughters, mine and freckles' second cousins. They're adorable beyond belief and really easy to entertain and i have actually really been feeling relaxed and enjoying myself. and i finished the last book in the mortal instruments series today. A very good conclusion, I thought. Left me with feelings, but also left me feeling satisfied. It was a good wrap-up. I strongly recommend the series (The Mortal Instruments).
Just so you know I'm not always all weepy-sad like this. Today was actually a good day. I just think a lot sometimes.

On Fitness

I've started riding my bike again lately, and I am trying so hard not to make it into a weight-loss thing. The fact that I am the heaviest I have been in my life (which isn't saying much when we're talking about me anyway so there's no reason to make a big deal out of it) should not influence whether I go biking or not. I just like bike riding, I do. I get to see the city, be outside and surrounded by nature, and get some exercise. I am being very firm with myself that losing weight should not be a motivator in riding my bike. I am still at a healthy weight. I am not unhealthy. I'm not very active, and I can count on one hand the number of strong muscles I have in my body.

But sometimes I feel like though I may be biking also for those myriad other reasons (and it is something I really enjoy as it lets me see the city without using a bunch of gas in my car and having to drive super fast, but I'm still going somewhat fast and I don't get tired as quickly), I am also biking to lose weight. I hate this. I don't want to be obsessed with this. I haven't for most of my life, and I thought that was because I was above all of this, but really it's because I've been stick thin and weeny-tiny all my life until now and I don't know how to handle it.

While BMI may not be the best indicator of health, my mind still fixates on it. For most of my life I have been underweight, just slightly. I am now firmly in the middle of "healthy weight" and it's weird. Given, I was small for most of my life because I was dancing all the time, and because I guess some kids are just like that. I wasn't developed yet, I was very active, and my mom never bought dessert.

I think it was in my last two years of high school that that changed, because I wasn't doing gym class anymore and was spending a lot of time just sitting and studying. Which meant I became pretty smart (and insecurities about intelligence are a completely different topic-- let's just say when you're hanging out with the really, really smart and hardworking kids all the time, you start to feel bad about your own abilities when your grades don't measure up), but also meant that I gained weight. This wasn't a bad thing. I'm not going to say I was unhealthy before, when I was a twig of a girl, but it's not like I was unhealthy after. I just weighed more. That was all. And there wasn't anything wrong with that. I was still healthy.

In my last year of high school, as I'm sure you all know by now given how much IB still rules over my life, I had to find a way to do 50 hours of action activities. That meant like physical activity, not taking action on causes- something which was covered by the 50 service hours I had to complete as well. I ended up taking TRX classes at the gym- something I tried to go back to this summer, but the schedule at that gym has now changed (they used to do punch cards- as in you buy a card, when you show up for a class, they punch your card-- very handy-- but now they do 8 week "sessions" and while I would need something for june-july, there's only may-june and july-august so I meant really I'd be paying for two sessions and only going to half). I really liked TRX- I had actual mucles. In my arms, too, which was really something for me. I also gained about 10 pounds over the course of the year, which I attributed to muscle mass building. I don't actually know if that's accurate or not- I only went to the class for an hour a week, but it was pretty intense. Over the summer I wasn't able to go as often and so the muscles faded.

Over the past year at university I will admit I have been snacking. A lot. I was more concerned about the financial burden at the time, seeing how much money I probably wasted buying those damn hershey's drops, but I think it was a small act of rebellion. My parents- my mom especially- weren't around to police my eating anymore. I could buy snacks whenever I wanted to... and no one could judge me. Mom wasn't around to say "your thighs are so beautiful, you don't want them to get lumpy and ugly" when I was snacking on saturday nights while my roommate was out at the bar. Mom wasn't around to give me judgemental looks and tell me to "be careful with the chips, dear". Mom wasn't around to say "you're growing out now, and not up, so be careful with the chocolate." I get that my mom loves me and that she always will. I get that she will always be proud of me. I get that she will always be there for me. But it just dawned on me now that my desire to lose weight is probably obviously really, really, really tied to my mother.

Because while I realize that she will always love me and support me and be proud of me, I still feel like she would be more proud of me if I was back with my BMI firmly at underweight. Like she wouldn't make these comments. Those comments imply that she thinks I don't know what I'm doing, that I'm doing something wrong, that I'm forever on the cusp of being ugly and I had better be careful, because I'm just about there, and if I don't watch myself, I will be ugly. If I don't watch myself, all I will get are judgemental looks from my mom.

Much as I don't want it to be, my issues with my weight and health are all tied up with my relationship with my mom. I don't want her to comment about this at all. I don't want her to give me looks for eating doritos or chocolate or brownies or ice cream. I don't want her to tell me to "be careful" with food. I don't want her telling me how to eat or how to treat my body. I want that to be left to me.
I want to have a good relationship with my mom, too. I want to be close to her, I want to be able to talk to her about anything, and I want to feel like she loves me and is proud of me. Perhaps I am putting too much weight on these things she says, but they're still really poisonous to me. When she says something like those things, I feel my heart rate increase, my stomach twist into knots, which is exactly the same response I have before writing a hard exam, or the response I had in middle school when I had to interact with those idiot boys who treated me like shit: I get anxious. I get nervous. And being home is hard because of that. I'm always waiting for her to say something.

I just want to feel like my mom isn't judging me for how I eat. I want to feel like she isn't judging me based on how my stomach sticks out now, because I've gained about 10-15 more pounds in the last semester alone (the freshman fifteen is apparently real... although I think it was just me snacking before dinner and then being full and then making myself eat dinner anyway because it was good for me and being way too full like if I just snacked after dinner then that wouldn't have been a problem). Yesterday I wore a purple shirt to my sister's piano recital, a sort of stretchy one that I've had for a few years that hung on my stomach awkwardly. And I was worried that my mom would say something about it. I contemplated not wearing that shirt because I was worried of what my mom would think, of whether she would say "I don't think that shirt is the most flattering shirt on you, dear." But I did wear it, and thankfully, nothing happened (beyond getting insecure at the recital again because a) I can't play piano well anymore and I hate that, b) because now my sister just loves her new piano teacher and everything we ever had to do with the old piano teacher is poisoned, and c) because there were two girls there who just won like all the awards in the universe for piano that the teacher had to tell everyone about and it's like yes that is good for them and obviously they worked hard for it but you're still a little jelly). Mom and I both ate two cupcakes at the recital (albeit, they were tiny ones), and nobody made a big fuss over it. All was well.

I'm just... I'm actually questioning my own motives for wanting to start biking regularly. Is this about weight loss? Should it not be? Does this even matter? Can't I just say I'm doing it for health? But what does that even mean? Doesn't 'doing it for health' imply that weight loss is part of it? What happens if I don't lose any weight despite biking lots over the summer? What if I don't gain a lot of muscle, either? Was it all for nothing? And part of me is starting to think that maybe I should just fucking bike and if anyone tries to say that I'm doing it to lose weight I can tell them to go fuck themselves because my weight is nobody else's business, and I am slowly trying to reclaim it from my mom.

I get it. She's my mom. She worries about me. But seriously, if she wanted to help me out here, she'd stop with the comments.

As for why I can't comment on this to her and ask her to change, one time I said it really sucked being late all the time for school and I mentioned that I blamed mom for it (because seriously, she would say "be in the car by 7:30" and then casually not be in the car until 7:45, making me embarrassed and late all the fucking time) and I was a little rude about it and my mom's response was to act like I was being totally mean and ridiculous and deliberately hurtful and the next morning my dad drove me to school because my mom wouldn't (or at least, that's the impression I got from asking why he was driving me). I felt horrible, tore myself up about it, cried a lot, and then apologized to my mom. She was completely cool about it when I came in, teary eyed and hating myself. She said she wasn't mad about it, and kept a neutral face the whole time. That unsettled me. She was like the popular girl, acting like I was the one making a scene and getting emotional over nothing when she refused to drive me to school. My point is, if I try and confront her about this, she will get defensive, I will get blamed, and my dad will be no help at all because he tends to agree with her. Like a lot. I will feel horrible, apologize, and be made to feel like it wasn't a big deal at all, and nothing will change. It's just not worth it.


I love my mom. I do. We have our moments, there are times when I love spending time with her and feel that she is a source of wisdom and strength. But as I get older I find those moments becoming more and more rare. I hate it. I'm probably exaggerating the story above. Of course my mom is supposed to be perfect and hardworking and admirable, and she is hardworking and admirable and I just want to feel close to her. Maybe this is some kind of delayed teenage rebellion thing. I don't know. It just makes me sick, and I want it to end.

yer pal,
swegan

Everyone is travelling

I am beginning to experience the phenomenon of feeling like your life is sub-par via facebook. Usually this is true for people in their 20s, watching friends get married and start having kids. I just graduated high school last year, so we're not quite at that stage yet, but I do have a couple of friends (3 on facebook, to be exact) who keep travelling places all the time.

Okay seriously I need a nickname for one of these people, as I have been seeing her more and more. TIME TO USE GOOGLE TRANSLATE TO FIND A WORD AND THEN ALTER IT SO IT SOUNDS GOOD ENOUGH TO USE.

Hmm, it seems I can actually use the name "clara" which is close to one that I think kind of fits. It is odd to think of calling this person clara, but hey, I have a friend on here whom I refer to as "vince" and I have gotten used to that.

So there's a girl whom I knew very well in ninth grade who's spent a whole year in Europe. I think she already had some friends over there to visit, though, which does make travelling easier. But she's been there for the whole entire year and now she's there for the summer with another girl from high school and they look like they are having such a blast and I AM SO JELLY. But swegan! you cry. You just went to Ireland! That's true, I did, and it was awesome, just like it was last year, plus this time we knew what we were doing. I'd go back to Ireland again any day, as conflicted as I am about their stance on abortion and as confused as I am by how the separation between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland works. All I know is that my parents told me to not wear orange while we were there, and I can't remember why, so I just didn't bring any orange clothing. Better to play it safe, I suppose, even if I might be totally wrong about this whole orange thing.

Anyway, there's another girl I sort of knew (well, I'm facebook friends with her, so I knew her well enough to add her) who's spent her entire year on a student exchange in Brazil. She hasn't posted quite as many photos, but she seems to be having the time of her life as well, and again, JELLY. SO JELLY. (Gah, I sound like ptarckas when I type WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME MAKE IT STOP).

And then there's Clara, who went on a trip I think in high school with a tour company, and I think she's been on one or two more since then. They're very short trips but she got to go to Switzerland and JUST I WANT TO GO TO SWITZERLAND SO BADLY OH MY GOD, so yes, JELLY.

I feel like it is almost expected of me at this age that at some point I will travel to find myself. Or just travel to see the world. I think I already have a pretty good idea of who I am, and I've already been lots of places (something for which I consider myself insanely lucky). I do actually have a trip I'd like to do, and it's one my parents took us on before to visit old friends in Oregon they'd gone to school with. We stopped somewhere in BC for a wedding on our way over to Vancouver, then Victoria Island where we visited some friends (that is where I first learned the magic of guacamole on a sandwich). Then we took a ferry down into the states and drove through I think Olympia on our way down the coast. I can't remember where we stopped and stayed once we got into the states, just that we went down the Oregon coast and oh my stars, it was gorgeous. Somewhere along there, I learned how good clam chowder was, too, and then we got to Portland, which actually seems like a really cool city (and now that I hear more about it, very hipster-y, which I'm not sure is entirely good or bad). On the way back up we didn't go by the coast again, but we went through Spokane and did back-to-school shopping, since, as always, there are stores in the US with way better selection and jeans that actually fit me at the time, and I think it was cheaper because we didn't pay taxes (and it wasn't a pain like not paying taxes in Europe, where you have to fill out forms and stick receipts in envelopes and show your purchases at customs which is a pain since then you can't pack them in your suitcase like srsly Europe what the butt).

I'd change a few things about this trip. Firstly, I'd like it to take more than three weeks- not that that was a short time period, but that in order to do the trip I want I would need more time. I'd go down the Oregon coast again, the same way (stopping in Okanagan valley, maybe heading over to Victoria Island, etc) but this time I would stay longer, do more hikes, take more pictures, explore more (and eat more clam chowder, for the love of god). I don't know if I would visit Portland again, maybe. Whenever I think of Portland I just think of the cupcake place and the used bookstores (where I got a couple of books I have reread many times). That is Portland to me. After Oregon, I'd head into California, because in all honesty I actually do want to visit California. I really want to see the redwoods, Big Sur and Yosemite. And San Francisco, because that actually seems like a very cool city. I don't know how much farther south I'd want to go, nor how we'd get back from such a long trip. You can't drive the same way again, that is boring, but I fear that going inwards means hitting a bunch of desert and I can barely stand driving through Saskatchewan sometimes, so I don't know how I'd handle the desert. At least Saskatchewan sometimes has hills (and even trees!) when we drive through to Regina and Saskatoon and sometimes Moose Jaw (and eventually, Indian Head- which I thought more people would know about as a kid since it was plainly obvious to me as we went through there every time we visited my grandparents). Anyway, my point is that it would probably scare me and I'd worry about the car breaking down in the middle of nowhere and just... yeah. I have no great desire to visit anywhere that is a desert (is that where the word "deserted" comes from? Or is it the other way around?).

On that note, Saskatchewan is actually really pretty, for as much as I complain about driving through it. Sometimes it just gets so desolate, and there's no civilization for hours and hours and hours and oh my god, the one time my dad let me drive in Saskatchewan was the worst. There was a grain elevator in the distance, and I could see it, but it never seemed to be getting closer, and the sun was hot and the road was hazy and painfully straight and I just kept almost dozing off... driving there is hard. Like really, really hard. But then I remember my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary and standing outside the old round barn just outside of Indian Head and watching the sun set, and let me tell you, there is nothing like a sunset in Saskatchewan. You can see everything. It's really beautiful.
My dad once said to me that he finds it sort of irritating the way people go on and on about the natural beauty of mountain wilderness and how it needs to be protected. "I think that they're right to protect it," he said, "but I happen to think the prairies are very beautiful and that they also need to be protected." (I'm paraphrasing, this was a long time ago). I've never forgotten that. My heart may be in the mountains, but my soul (if I have one, which is a discussion for another time) is on the prairies. I've always thought that that was the most succinct way of describing it.

anyway. I actually have a desire to travel now, which is really something. But for now, I'm just here, waiting for my lab job to begin (it was supposed to start Wednesday but then the lady who runs the lab (who is the one hiring me) is the only one who knows where she wants me to work and who I am working with and what I will be doing and she hasn't emailed me back. I don't know when to go in to start work. She did just get back from a trip, but that was (supposedly) on Tuesday night, and I've emailed her three times since then. Nothing. I don't want to just go in and sit around all day, but I really want to do something other than sit around and watch movies this summer. I'm starting to fear that this job will never materialize, that I will never hear back, not even if I go into the lab and sit there all day waiting for her to show up (which I really don't want to do but may have to resort to soon if I don't hear back). I feel very useless just sitting at home. I think if I don't hear from her by... well, probably by Monday or Tuesday, I'm going to have to just go sit in the lab all day. Bring a book or two, settle in, and wait. She has to show up eventually, and then I can find out if I still have this job or if something has come up and I'll be working in dad's office all summer). Sigh.

yer pal,
swegan

Stressful dreams

Well, first I broke my knee, but then later it was my elbow for some reason. I snapped a tendon in it, and when they fixed it, my arm automatically snapped straight more than it bent. It was bizarre. And that was stressful, but then suddenly I was in the midst of some kind of post-apocalyptic war, and I was on the wrong side of it, because there were people invading my house and I had to hide. We were going to run and so I had gone to look for some suitable shoes in a slightly altered version of my mom's closet. Then, for some reason, I knew they were coming in there to look for me, so I had to hide. That was stressful enough, because I knew if they found me, they'd kill me.

I frequently have recurring dreams like this, where I have to find a good hiding spot and sit there and worry about whether or not the people in my house who for some reason are trying to hunt me down are going to find me. It really stresses me out, like I'll wake up with my stomach in knots and feeling full of needles, you know that feeling? It's horrible

Later in the dream, I was in a piano competition but realized that I didn't know my part of the songs and I would make my partners lose. It was horrible, trying to make chords based on what they were playing. Afterwards for some reason we were at some border and a bunch of people joined us, including Ptarckas for a brief moment. I asked him to say something in Hungarian, and then he did. He also said something in Russian for some reason. Then later he wasn't there and I was with I think Vince and an old childhood friend and some other girls and we were above the highway on these concrete things and suddenly one girl slipped and fell a little ways and got knocked unconscious. So then suddenly the highway was a river and we somehow managed to get her onto this floating dock thing most of the way across, but for some reason we couldn't get her the rest of the way. I had seen a sign that said we were near Red Deer (I have no idea how) and so I knew if we could just get her to shore and find a phone I could call an ambulance. There was a guy on shore with a bunch of dogs, like all swimming and laying in the sun. I swam to shore and asked if any of them were rescue dogs, but he said no (I guess I was looking for a newfie). He went to go ask some other people (he appeared to be camping, he was wearing a really ugly too-small shirt over his large belly and also swim trunks and sandals as he barbecued on the beach wearing sunglasses and a hat and drinking beer) but then when I looked back everyone else on the floating dock had discovered one of those pool floaty things and floated the unconscious girl across the river. I said "nevermind" and we ran inland and found some weird milkshake shack thing that was really beachy-looking and then we got thrown in a back room with a phone and one of the girls who ran the stand dialed the police really fast and then hung up and then said "look, if I press 237, it automatically connects me to the last number, so don't try ANYTHING." somehow I managed to convince her that I just needed to phone the police, but when I tried dialing 911, it asked where I wanted the bomb dropped. I clicked some "no" button on the phone but for some reason it just kept moving through this process of bomb-dropping so I hung up. Then the girl who was unconscious was conscious, but she was moving really slowly, and for a second I got a glimpse in her head, and everything was spinning and her heart was beating really slowly, and there was something about the number 7 that I remember. She was drinking cups of toffee the girls at the milkshake stand had given her, and when I was asking them what it was my asthma started getting really bad so I asked for some coffee because I heard once that that helps. Then my next idea was to use the phone to call mom and ask her to call the ambulance because I was pretty sure I now needed one because I was on the verge of an asthma attack. But I kept getting the number 3 confused with 7 and then FINALLY, I woke up.

For a brief moment, I was actually really wheezy, but that faded. I was also really sweaty, no doubt from the stress. I really, really hate dreams like the first one there, where I have to run and hide. I'm always worried my hiding spot isn't good enough and if it isn't then I'm basically screwed because I'm cramped up in some tiny little corner and can't move to run. Perhaps joining the hide-and-seek club at uni isn't the best idea in the world. Despite how much fun it looks like, I'm really competitive and no doubt I would go into that weird kind of panic-mode the longer I sat. That panic-mode even used to happen with Freckles: we'd be running around and I'd try and stay away, and then suddenly the idea that she might catch up to me and get her hands on me was absolutely terrifying. Then she would, and the terror would immediately pass. I know Freckles got this way, too, she told me once and exhibited the same responses I did when I was chasing her.

That's often another feature of those dreams: I'm being chased, so not only do I have to find a hiding spot, I have to find one NOW and FAST and that's really stressful when there's people with guns coming after me.

Anyway. I'm awake now and nothing like that will happen to me. *deep breaths* Also, my elbow isn't broken and I'm not having an asthma attack. Woo!

yer pal,
swegan :S

I realized the other day that I am the sum of my experiences

I realized that other people probably have completely normal middle school experiences. Middle school always sticks out for me as an experience that has shaped me, probably because it sticks out for me as such a glaring example of why I feel so horribly guilty when I am the least bit mean to other people unfairly, and why I try and be kind to everyone and be cute and sunny.

I just want to analyze the whole experience every time. So I'll start with elementary school- grade five, just before I had to leave a school I loved and go to middle school. I was extremely popular and I honestly have no idea why- I had lots of friends and everyone wanted me to sit at their desk at lunch and I think at one point we made a schedule?? I might have let the power go to my head a couple of times, but then again, I was 10. Even then there was some indication to me that I wasn't quite one of the perfect pretty popular girls, but they were never mean to me. No one was ever directly mean to me, and if they were, it was minor, not an ongoing thing, and was resolved quickly. I have wonderful memories of elementary school.

Sixth grade wasn't so bad, I suppose, except that I was probably used to being popular and well liked by everyone. I made friends, and they were good people- they were insanely kind to me even when I was probably kind of mean and bitchy. I'm not sure what it was about middle school, but it made me really nasty. I noticed that when I finally got to ninth grade and met people who I am still friends with now, and I don't know if they had the same experience or not but suddenly having friends meant I just had to be nice and so I adjusted. I said some really mean things in ninth grade- trust me. I'd like to think I've come a looong way since I was 12.

Anyway, seventh grade I think was the worst year. I became absolutely head-over-heels infatuated with a boy for absolutely no good reason. He got shitty grades, was popular so he never had to worry about anything, good looking, and absolutely horrible to me. In the beginning, we just had to sit next to each other, and I didn't think much of it. He and the girl behind him (an ordinary, makeup wearing, fully developed and yet somehow not horribly mean girl) and I would talk sometimes about stuff, and everything was okay. I wasn't a total loser- I definitely wasn't up there with the cool kids, mostly because of my extreme lack of athletic abilities, but people hadn't been very mean. He said something the week before thanksgiving weekend. My family went out to our shared cabin that weekend, and I distinctly remember making the decision to like him on the way there, curled up under a blanket and practically backwards in my seat in the dark. I can't remember why anymore, and if I had to pick one decision in my life that I would do over, it would absolutely be that one. I would go back, shake myself furiously, and shout "DON'T FUCKING DO IT." I don't know how that would have affected the rest of my life- pretty sure my nickname wouldn't exist- but I'm sure it probably would have been better.

Of course it wasn't horribly intense at first- it was just a stupid little crush, which was fine and manageable, but over time it grew into something very big and scary (when I think back on it now). I tried so hard. Although when reading my old journals, I'm impressed at how positive I was. I made a big deal out of middle school issues like sports days and fundraisers, cared about things, had pride for the school, etc. I did everything they asked me to. I tried in gym class- really, I did. I made other friends. I let the boys jump over me in gym class when we all had to sit in our "squads" (neat lines of five or six that we sat in while the gym teacher introduced the class). Of course my gym strip was... decidedly not cool, since I wasn't about to go buy cool gym clothes I would never, ever use. I still danced at that point so I was already athletic in some way, so it didn't matter.

I don't even know how it got so out of control. Of course, being the person I was at 12, somehow I accidentally let the whole fucking seventh grade know about who I liked, and from that point on, I was not shown any mercy. Looking back now I can say I think the motive for his being so horrible to me was trying to drive me away. I made him look really uncool; I'm sure his friends teased him about the fact that I had such a huge, glaring crush on him and it was dragging down his reputation. Knowing that I made his life in any way more difficult is incredibly satisfying. Believe me, he fucking deserved it. And a lot more than that, too.

The list of names he called me is not actually that long- in fact, he began calling me "swegan" which of course my friends caught onto and then started calling me in front of him, so he realized that his nickname had caught on (which, unfortunately, made him pleased with himself). I went through other nicknames, the most notable of which were "melchy" (a play on my last name, really annoying but it never caught on) and "smeagol", which was just mean. He is also definitely on the record as calling me ugly, a fucking bitch, and faggot, and I'm not even sure why I remember these things if they hurt so much, but I feel some compulsive need to not forget all the vitriol he flung at me for the crime of liking him.

I think everything came to a head in the seventh grade dodgeball incident. That was by far the worst thing, in my memory. 12 year old me did a pretty good job of describing it in my journal, so I'll just put that here. I won't change his name because honestly I think he deserves any small amount of public shame he gets here, even if it's stupid and petty to wish this on someone who did this seven fucking years ago. (all other names will be altered in some small way).

~ From my journal, May 10, 2008
ughhhh. i’ll tell the story. even though i don’t like telling it.
second period on friday we had fitness friday, right? and so after all the other groups left it was mr. [F]’s group (the one i’m in) and mr. [U]’s group (the one the ugly jerk and his TWIN brother and other friend are in) were left, so we played probably the worst game ever invented because it singles people out and makes them embarrassed.
loser dodgeball.
it’s just like regular dodgeball, if you get hit you’re out, and then everytime your team hits a mat on the opposite side one person gets out. but if you get hit with the green dodgeball, you have to wear the PLC ([school name] loser crown!) i mean, come on!
just hearing we were playing dodgeball gave away the fact that the jerk and his “goons” (i like to refer to them as that) were going to gang up on me. and they did. they hit me once, that wasn’t COMPLETELY horrible, but they did laugh at me and boy, do they throw way too hard! of course after i got out i watched steve try to hit me and hit [C] on the back and then later [C] hit steve on the back of the head. i enjoyed seeing THAT.
then he hit me a second time- HARD on the hand. my fingers were sore until lunch, when we went home! and i had to hold my hand because it was sore and red, and then at the end of the day, when everyone’s going out to the bus, he MOCKS me! he puts this sarcastic crybaby look on his face, holds his hand, and imitates me! oooooooooooo,  that was annoying. not to mention EMBARRASSING! right in front of everyone! and then he was like “oh, smegal, did we hurt your feelings?” and then I screamed right out loud “YOU’RE SUCH A JERK!”
~End

Vince, bless her soul, said she wanted to "punch him" when I copied and pasted that into skype, and it was so awesome. I still want to punch him. I think I'll probably want to punch him for the rest of my life. I know they say that you should be the bigger person and forgive your enemy and whatnot, but I can't forgive him. Honestly, I go through my life not thinking about seventh grade 98% of the time, and I'm completely fine and have managed to get over most of the residual hurt. (On a cruelly ironic note, the song that just came on on the songza playlist I'm listening to is "Obsessed with me" by Mariah Carey and given what I'm thinking about right now, this song is decidedly not something I want to hear). But then sometimes I hear something about bullying, or I read something about being 12, or I watch youtube videos of girls doing makeup just for kicks and come across one of a 12 year old girl and become so curious and somewhat jealous that she is so normal when I couldn't be at that age.

At the time, I was bizarrely positive about everything, like I said. I was trying so hard to pretend my life was fine, and certain parts of it were. I was certainly doing well in school, and my teachers liked me, and I had some friends (some who were not exactly the most loyal people in the world, but I was never severely betrayed by them). I think the biggest thing was that at the time, when I was ever engaged with by the popular kids, I always assumed they were treating me as an equal, because that's how I viewed myself. That when they had serious conversations with me that always had a hint of teasing that I chose not to care about, they weren't talking down to me. Looking back, that's the only way I can see the experience. I can see the whole thing from a 3rd person point of view, can see me sitting in my desk, extremely short, mistaken for a 3rd grader quite easily, with hair down to my waist and fledgling bangs I didn't know how to work with, as they would talk to me and appear to be taking me seriously. I remember quite clearly a conversation with his twin brother, who was promising me that he'd talk to Steve for me. When I remember the incident in the light of now, there's other people watching in, either entertained or confused as to why I'm bothering to pay attention to one of the popular kids. I'm not sure if that's my memory being tricky or not, but I think at least some small part of it must be the truth.

I also remember several instances of light teasing in the beginning of seventh grade that could have easily been interpreted by a naive swegan as people being friendly, just friendly teasing, rather than choosing to tease me because they knew I liked the attention and would react to them; now my view of it is that they must have teased me because I was a loser who was easy to rile up. It doesn't excuse their behaviour in any way, not at all, but that's what I think their logic was.


I feel really, really, really pathetic still being hurt about all of this, especially since it wasn't really that bad in the grand scheme of bullying that kids deal with. It still makes me shake- I have a physical response to reading old journal entries from middle school sometimes.

Sometimes I just think that all I really want is for them to apologize. I know it happened 6 and 7 years ago, I know we were all stupid then, but I really just want them to say "I'm sorry about middle school" or "I'm sorry we were so shitty to you" or "I'm sorry we were so mean" or even just "I'm sorry." I feel like that might give me some kind of closure. My only other current option is just continuing to live my life out as I am and enjoying it (as I am) and just wait for this to all fade away. I'm really, really, really, REALLY fucking done with caring about middle school and I can't let it go. I'm afraid it's because I like being a victim or something, or that I want special attention. For christ's sake, middle school was so fucking long ago and we were all stupid and my life has gone nowhere but up from there and I even still have some form of positive relationship with a favourite teacher FROM middle school and why is this even a big deal anymore, it doesn't matter, none of it matters! I hardly cared then, given my apparent positivity. The dodgeball incident was definitely the worst of anything, and that was like exactly 7 years ago come May (the journal entry is dated). That's practically a decade. I have had a decade to be over this.

Seriously, I want to analyze this, but at the same time, I feel like such a gigantic whiner. Other kids have it way, way worse than I did.

Honestly, though, I am putting this post up for 1 part sympathy and 100 parts airing my thoughts. I feel a little more done with everything every time I post about it. That's a good sign, I'd say.


In completely unrelated news, I found a tea that I like! It's jasmine green tea. And I have come into possession of  a whole tin of it via the kindness of strangers, which is a story for another time. For right now, I have to go to bed. I have class tomorrow, y'know.

yer pal,
swegan

I have also decided that that name is no longer associated with him. So many of my friends have been the only ones to call me that now for so long that it's a term of endearment now. It's a friendly nickname, a play on my name and the word "swag" or something. It's mine now. I have taken it and reappropriated it. Deal with it.