My Elderly Self

I have this weird way of thinking about how my day is going. I'm constantly worried that I'm going to have a bad day. If I have a good day, I'm worried that the next day or the day after that will be a bad one, just to "balance" everything out. If I have a bad day, well then I'm miserable because my day's bad. It's not easy to stop thinking about.

Sometimes I blend into crowds just because I'm unremarkable. While I was waiting for my morning class to start (which it didn't because it was canceled), some guy was handing out brochures or something to everyone in the hallway. As I was leaning against the wall, he started on my right, made his way through a throng of people to my left, then returned to my right without handing one to me. I didn't mind not getting one; I'd probably just throw it away. But it's strange. Maybe he doesn't like me. Maybe I give off a disgruntled, angry vibe. What if he's an unobservant guy?

It seems like the more I drive the slower I drive. I seriously drive like an stereotypical elderly person. But it really annoys me when I see people flying past me at 60 on a 40 mph street for no good reason. I mean, if you're going to save someone's life and driving that fast was the only way to save them in time, then I guess that's a good reason. But seriously: What are the chances of that happening? Oftentimes I think it's because everyone's always in a big hurry, like they've got something life/death important to do. But I've got news for you (people who drive unsafely): no one's that important to be endangering lives on the street. Plus you're wasting gas!

(I sound like a grumpy old man.)

A Fine Misty Day

I had a fine day today, and even though the weather was thoroughly depressing in a misty, North of England kind of way, I didn't mind.

What did bother me, however, was a girl in my math class who kept coughing in an 'I'm quite sick' sort of way. I hope I don't catch her cold.

I feel guilty for handing in a crappy English paper, especially when I really like my professor. He's a stuttering, knit-picky kind of guy, but he's smart and he's straight-forward about what he knows and what he doesn't, and he shares my belief that suffering in school is for the purpose of becoming better people more than obtaining a diploma and a subsequent career. It's nice to know I'm not alone in that thinking.

I nearly fell asleep listening to my CD player (yeah, I still use mine after 6 or 7 years) while misty rain wafted around my car. The vaporous gray clouds hid the afternoon sun as I awaited a time when no honorable man rise against his neighbor, and for 6:30 when my class would start.

I've been reading a lot more lately. I just finished Great Expectations (fantastic book), and am currently switching between Wuthering Heights and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It's funny that a few years ago I wouldn't have understood any of these books, and now I'm reading them for a bit of morning enjoyment. I think I'm starting to come into my own.

I've also been writing a lot more recently, mostly fiction. There's not much more to that except I'm not very good yet, but I'm a lot better after practicing every day in March, and only hope to become better in the upcoming months. After all, creative writing is my freakin' major!

Deeply Apprehensive

I'm so deeply concerned with my future right now. It feels silly to talk about, and as I'm typing this sentence the sick sensation in my head is starting to dissipate. But nonetheless, I'm feeling very strange and nostalgic. Except it's the opposite of nostalgia, because instead of looking back I'm imagining forward. For some reason it's disheartening, like I'll never be happy again. Is this why so many people are unhappy with their lives when they reach middle age? Because they failed to achieve the visions of life they had when they were twenty?

I think it's mostly apprehension that's startling me. I don't know what kind of future I have, but I'm terrified it'll disappoint me. What are these feelings? So many people have failed to bring contentment into their lives that I'm afraid of living another day. Not every thing will go as expected, nor should they because it may not be what we need. But I at least want to find meaning to my life.

Know what it's like? It's like a dreary afternoon where you don't have anything to do but sit in your room and think. You've stopped being so busy that you finally have time to relax into the moment, and when you do you realize that something's not right, and you don't know what it is or when it happened because you were too busy to see. It's like a dreary afternoon inside me.

Life: The Untold Story

Not everything can be perfect.

Did I know what was going to happen today? Heck no! But that's just another one of life's surprises. Who knew I would be taking care of a kitten that my sister's friend found? Seriously, you can't plan life. It's the greatest story you can tell. There's no way you can figure out what's going to happen next. Nothing's for sure, I'll tell you what.

Blahblahblahblahblah!

This one's about scarves

This one’s about scarves.

I wore a scarf to school today. Actually, that’s only partly true. Let me explain.

The night before I put one on because my room, being one of the coldest in the house, becomes a meat locker as I sleep, and I didn’t feel like putting on my heater just because I could do without the stifling heat. So I woke up wearing one.

I took my sister to school, came home to browse the internet, and then got ready to go to school.

I was still wearing the scarf when I left because it was cloudy and windy outside. But when I finally parked and started walking to class, I did something I hadn't anticipated doing. I took off my scarf and threw it in my car. I didn't give much thought to the decision at the time.

Looking back, maybe it's because I rarely, if ever, wear a scarf in pubic. It's not part of my public wardrobe (the fact that I've chosen what clothes I can and cannot wear in public says something about me). I felt self-conscious wearing one, as if someone would stop me and say, "You don't look attractive with a scarf. Take it off."

My first class was Intro. To Sociology. At the end we watched a clip from ‘Scare Tactics,’ a prank reality show. In the clip, some guy is pressured into drinking a glass of juice by a group of ‘cult members’ (including his friend), despite suspicion of poison in it.

In the discussion that followed, the class thought he was stupid for doing it, and most asserted that, had they been in the same situation, they would not have drank the juice. I felt very strongly that I wouldn’t. My professor said people naturally conform to society’s whims, and that our lives are pervaded with social norms we follow just because everyone else is doing it—the American dream, going to college even if we don't want to, and dressing in fashionable, unpersonalized clothing.

She said everybody, at some point, drinks the juice--just like the guy in the video--even if it's just a little bit. I heartily agreed. Then I realized I unconsciously drink the juice earlier that morning.

This is about the Simpsons

This entry is about The Simpsons.

I was watching the Simpsons while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with milk today. I love this show. It's absolute wit, genius, and entertainment in half an hour. It was the one where Springfield enforces it's 200-year-old prohibition law. Even though it's 13-years-old, the episode still holds up for it's brilliant jokes and tight story structure.

As I sat in my desk chair, munching on my sandwich and drinking a warm glass of milk, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic. I grew up on the Simpsons; I acquired my comedic chops from these characters. And today, as I watched them, the same as they were over a decade ago, I realized that the jokes, writing, and stories never change--only I do. And I think there's something to be said about that.

Blank

I have nothing to say about anything. This worries me.