so often I just feel so tired and unmotivated to do anything
i’m so worried all the time
my stomach constantly churns with anxiety
i don’t have any friends
my family is never ever there
i feel like i’m constantly floating
trying to care doesn’t help
it only makes me notice things more
i can’t look people in the face
for longer than the 3 seconds it takes to say hello.
I have never wanted to be a male more than now. I feel so utterly disparate to people around me. I don’t feel like I identify mainly with females, nor do I feel that I should with males. I’m not saying at all that there is a stabilized gender binary that makes it impossible for me to have characteristics of either. But most of the time I’m feeling completely left out of either male or female companionship. So many of my friends are males because of ROTC, but so often I feel a wall between us that makes it impossible for us to ever just become friends. Also so often I get treated as if I’m stupid. I’m not talked to like any other guy. I’m talked to more like a child being explained what is right and wrong. I’m just so sick of it.
I’m not very picky about many things, except movies and music. I am picky about those. I have my own acquired taste, and I feel like I have a solid enough foundation to be able to properly critique things (and I have a wide range of tastes).
I do not understand people who don’t see the difference between something that is campy and something that is obnoxious. I can usually tell based on finding out a few of their likes/ dislikes or views on matters of music and movies if I would get along with them. I don’t believe this is prejudice; I find that I am good at discerning.
I find, more often that I want, that I am alone in this town. They say that people have three layers: the person in public, the person with close friends and family, and the person alone. The person alone is the one that is most honest to your character.
In most cases, the two former persons are that which we choose. They are that which we use to hide the latter.
This is my first experience with loss. I don’t know how to act. The pain brings a constant numbness, only sometimes ignored when distracted by friends. I can’t concentrate in class. My eyes have been red for a week. The crying has busted too many blood vessels. Realizing I’ll never hear her unique voice or hold her veiny, fragile hands again is a brand new feeling of permanence that I didn’t know was possible. I will never meet someone as beautiful as my grandmother. She was my best friend.
So I have to lead tomorrow’s class discussion on a deconstructive reading of two chapters in Moby Dick and I am so nervous… Seriously, you’d think finding multiple meanings in things would be easy but it’s SO difficult. It’s hard enough to just find one good meaning in Melville’s description of whales, let alone finding a second to completely oppose the first. Praying people did their readings so as to help me out. -____-
It’s 5:41 AM and I haven’t got a bit of sleep. I have been reading philosophy and deconstruction for the past 6 hours. I suppose I am a bit of a night owl. Perhaps I enjoy having my mind intellectually blown in the middle of the night in a quiet deserted library rather than while surrounded by the busy activities of the day that regulate a college campus. I know no one is around me. I share my excitement with no one, rather than look up in anticipation of shared excitement from passers-by only to be disappointed on the realization that I am alone in reading this. The awareness of reading alone gives no room to the outside world, to opinions or suggestion from others, to solidarity among your peers. I am entirely alone with this text and I find it scary and arousing at the same time.
In short, the readings for my classes give me boners.
Happiness makes me stupid. Makes me say stupid things. I am careless when I am happy. In a weird way, I have higher self-esteem when I am sad. I take myself more seriously when I am sad. When I am sad, I have substance to work with. When I am sad, things…
Eloquently worded by my internet friend Alayne. Paradoxically, being sad makes me feel happy. I enjoy working with the awareness of the sadness in life, it pulls in meaning and delivers truth. In the past couple weeks, I have changed drastically and learned new lessons in life. I took a risk with someone and explored new territory with someone I fell in love with, but now our time is over. I’m sad that it’s over, but I’m also not sad it’s over. I’ve crossed boundaries and learned many things. In particular learning that he was not my key to happiness, but that hard-work, my own goals, supporting myself and my family, and that sadness that accompanies the hard road is my key to happiness. Rich awareness and meaning to life lies in sadness.
Today in my Naval Engineering class, we met our new teacher/advisor, a lieutenant in his mid-30’s fresh from the submarine force. We were learning about valves and pumps when he decides to use an analogy for the movement of water through pipes. “A group of 15…
Obviously I need to clarify here because people are going crazy. When I said rudely, I mean that I found it rude, but my tone was not. My tone was casual and humorous to suggest to him that I was not offended and his correction I found unnecessary. He, and the rest of the class, laughed, and I found that it broke the awkwardness in the room after his correction. It was not snide, I did it for laughs to make him feel more comfortable despite his rare encounters working and teaching with females. As for feeling that I will be one of the first few navy pilots, I used the term BROADLY in my post to suggest that a hundreds of years from now, people will reflect on the history of women’s rights and see that women began flying in the navy in the 70’s and would possibly extend that group of firsts to possibly as far as 2020, so 50 years. I think it’s safe to say that in that sense, I am in that group of (still few) hundreds or thousands of females in that half century to begin the movement of evening out the imbalance of males and females in the fleet. That is all I meant. Sorry if I offended anyone, but I just found the fact that for someone to need to consciously remind himself that women are “a people” is slightly surprising to me and I just wanted to reflect on it a little.
Today in my Naval Engineering class, we met our new teacher/advisor, a lieutenant in his mid-30’s fresh from the submarine force. We were learning about valves and pumps when he decides to use an analogy for the movement of water through pipes. “A group of 15 guys - ” when he quickly stops talking, looks at me, the only girl in the room of midshipmen, and says “Excuse me, um… people. I was actually on the first sub that allowed females on board… er… they’re a hard working people.”
To which I blatantly, somewhat rudely rolled my eyes at him and sarcastically replied, “Yes we’re a proud people with a long and illustrious history.” I kind of regret being so unprofessional with a lieutenant, and I understand he’s fresh from the fleet and used to working in an all male submarine environment, but I couldn’t hold my tongue. This is exactly the type of attitude I know I’m going to encounter very often in my military career as a female officer. I’ll be dealing with much older male leaders adjusting to women being considered “people.” It’s crazy to think about, but in the view of the entire history of women’s rights, I will be, broadly, in the group considered some of the first female naval aviators. I felt history happen in my class today guys.
I conquered today just as I had intended. Got a 100 on a pop quiz in critical theory, made some profound inquiries towards structuralism, and got my francais on. Cleaned the entire kitchen and living room for the roommates, and now I’m about to go meet some new friends to study.
So, my new friend is super awesome. He has really decent taste in music, he’s from the other side of the country so he’s not into this whole southern football culture, he’s hilarious, has the cutest little dog named Brutus that he takes especially good care of, sings amazingly, and wants to become an Elvis impersonator. Finding new friends in this bible belt that I feel comfortable being myself around is truly a feat.