I swear sometimes I feel little knives floating around me instead of an aura. I can't help it. There are some days when I just really, really don't like people. Most people. It's a rare day when I don't like cats.
I want to go home.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Thanks for nothing, Sunday
Fuck today. Fuck obligations. Fuck everyone.
I spent most of the first 18 years of my life being non-judgmental, friendly, and accommodating. I feel like that should be worth something, like I now have the right to be a bitch every now and then.
I'm going to be honest, I don't have any friends I wouldn't change. I don't know of any person I approve of 100%. I'm not saying that they should seek that approval, I'm just saying that I hold myself to exceedingly high standards, so it's only fair if I hold everyone else to the same standards. I wish I could have one day, just one, in which I could go up to every person with whom I have an emotional relationship and tell them exactly what I hate about them without their being able to retaliate.
I hate that you'd condemn me before getting the whole story from the source instead of through rumors.
I hate that you love her more than you love me, even when you claim to be impartial.
I hate that you loved me more then than you love me now, even though I'm still the same person, and you're the one whose perceptions have changed.
I hate that you accuse me of taking you for granted when you've been taking me and my sacrifices for granted all along.
I hate that you claim to be my friend, but only care about that which pertains directly to you.
I hate that you're such a whore.
I hate that you bitch and moan about your work when what you're doing isn't even half as difficult as what I do on a daily basis.
I hate that your relationship with your mother is so much more open than my relationship with mine.
I hate that you slack off and take good grades for granted when I work so damn hard for so little recognition.
I hate that you took away my dreams and then accused me of losing them.
I hate that you were such a shitty, unreliable friend.
I hate that you're shallow, but every time I talk to you, I still hold onto the hope that the conversation will be fruitful.
I hate that you made me doubt the only thing I thought I could count on.
I hate that you make me feel so damn stupid and like I'll never be good enough.
I hate how you poisoned my heart and made me just like you so that I would hate me too.
Because every day I go through the list of things I hate about myself, and it's not fair for me to have to suffer my own venom alone. There are so many things I hate about other people, and so little I love, it's really no wonder I feel so alone all the time. I'm not proud of housing so much resentment. I feel even more resentment towards those who tell me to "just let it go", as if it were that easy. I don't want to forgive people their faults any more, because too often it feels like no one's forgiven me. Like they've never forgiven me, and I'll always be a fuck-up in their eyes, beyond redemption.
I'm tired of being the good guy. I'm tired of taking the higher road. I used to be so forgiving and understanding, and all that did was it made me a whore and a failure. I still care about people, but when I voice my concerns, they take it the wrong way and suddenly I'm the bad guy for not being an enabler. So fine. I won't forgive anymore. I won't try to understand. I'll stop caring.
And just wait, I'll still be a bad guy. Except maybe this time it'll be on my terms, and I'll be able to choose my own labels. I'd rather be a bitch than a whore. I'd rather be heartless than a failure.
I hate that you said you'd never give up on us, but really, wasn't that just all words? Don't you give up every time?
I spent most of the first 18 years of my life being non-judgmental, friendly, and accommodating. I feel like that should be worth something, like I now have the right to be a bitch every now and then.
I'm going to be honest, I don't have any friends I wouldn't change. I don't know of any person I approve of 100%. I'm not saying that they should seek that approval, I'm just saying that I hold myself to exceedingly high standards, so it's only fair if I hold everyone else to the same standards. I wish I could have one day, just one, in which I could go up to every person with whom I have an emotional relationship and tell them exactly what I hate about them without their being able to retaliate.
I hate that you'd condemn me before getting the whole story from the source instead of through rumors.
I hate that you love her more than you love me, even when you claim to be impartial.
I hate that you loved me more then than you love me now, even though I'm still the same person, and you're the one whose perceptions have changed.
I hate that you accuse me of taking you for granted when you've been taking me and my sacrifices for granted all along.
I hate that you claim to be my friend, but only care about that which pertains directly to you.
I hate that you're such a whore.
I hate that you bitch and moan about your work when what you're doing isn't even half as difficult as what I do on a daily basis.
I hate that your relationship with your mother is so much more open than my relationship with mine.
I hate that you slack off and take good grades for granted when I work so damn hard for so little recognition.
I hate that you took away my dreams and then accused me of losing them.
I hate that you were such a shitty, unreliable friend.
I hate that you're shallow, but every time I talk to you, I still hold onto the hope that the conversation will be fruitful.
I hate that you made me doubt the only thing I thought I could count on.
I hate that you make me feel so damn stupid and like I'll never be good enough.
I hate how you poisoned my heart and made me just like you so that I would hate me too.
Because every day I go through the list of things I hate about myself, and it's not fair for me to have to suffer my own venom alone. There are so many things I hate about other people, and so little I love, it's really no wonder I feel so alone all the time. I'm not proud of housing so much resentment. I feel even more resentment towards those who tell me to "just let it go", as if it were that easy. I don't want to forgive people their faults any more, because too often it feels like no one's forgiven me. Like they've never forgiven me, and I'll always be a fuck-up in their eyes, beyond redemption.
I'm tired of being the good guy. I'm tired of taking the higher road. I used to be so forgiving and understanding, and all that did was it made me a whore and a failure. I still care about people, but when I voice my concerns, they take it the wrong way and suddenly I'm the bad guy for not being an enabler. So fine. I won't forgive anymore. I won't try to understand. I'll stop caring.
And just wait, I'll still be a bad guy. Except maybe this time it'll be on my terms, and I'll be able to choose my own labels. I'd rather be a bitch than a whore. I'd rather be heartless than a failure.
I hate that you said you'd never give up on us, but really, wasn't that just all words? Don't you give up every time?
Monday, April 25, 2011
Disappointing
Semester's almost over. Only one more exam to go. I'm not feeling that great about it, but what can I do? Just study as much as I can and lump through it and hope I get a B- or better. This last exam is for the class I'm least confident about, since I don't always show up for lecture and even when I do, I usually fall asleep against my will.
I had an exam today and the results were posted this evening, which is shockingly fast turnaround time and makes me wonder if the professor isn't in a hurry to be somewhere. He has an accent and I wonder if his summer plans involve being somewhere where he won't. Have an accent, that is. English is hard at two in the morning.
My score wasn't traumatizing. I had been hoping for better, but I was still slightly above the average, even though the increase wasn't significant. What caught my eye was the fact that two homework assignments from a month ago were showing up as zeros. (Zeroes? fuck numbers. fuck spelling.) I knew that I'd done the assignments and that I'd turned them into the drop box outside the department mail room, but I didn't remember whether I'd gotten the assignments back or not. I thought I had, but after digging through everything in my teeny dorm (twice), I had to accept that either I'd left it at my boyfriend's (unlikely) or I'd never gotten it back in the first place.
I emailed the professor, explaining the situation, and his reply was pretty much "No proof? Too bad, too late." I'm hardly paraphrasing. He didn't try to make me feel better.
What irks me is that I hadn't even realized they were missing until tonight. The grades just remained blank, like someone intended to put in a nonzero grade, they just hadn't gotten around to it yet, so when I saw the zeros tonight, it took me by surprise. My homework grades haven't been spectacular, especially since his wording is so vague and sometimes isn't even related to the lectures (now I'm just pushing blame), but I'd never received zeros for them.
No. Actually, what pisses me off is the fact that someone lost my homework assignments. Two of them. My grade was kind of borderline and their stupid mistake pushed it under. Even if I had discovered it earlier, what could have been done to avoid this mess of a grade that I have now?
It's been more than two hours since then and I'm still in a foul mood. I'm angry at the professor for not being more helpful or sympathetic. I'm angry at the graders who lost two of my assignments. I'm angry at my poor sick boyfriend for resting instead of looking for my homework at his place in case by some slim chance it actually did end up there. But mostly, I'm angry at me for letting this shit happen to me. This was the course that I spent the most time and effort on. This was the course I liked, because I was learning stuff that was interesting and useful. This was the course that was difficult, but didn't seem too difficult, and I thought my grade couldn't be that bad.
Except it was. I gave it my all (ok. 90%. I refuse to give up sleep.) and in return I get a shitty grade and no way to redeem myself.
Fuck you, universe.
I had an exam today and the results were posted this evening, which is shockingly fast turnaround time and makes me wonder if the professor isn't in a hurry to be somewhere. He has an accent and I wonder if his summer plans involve being somewhere where he won't. Have an accent, that is. English is hard at two in the morning.
My score wasn't traumatizing. I had been hoping for better, but I was still slightly above the average, even though the increase wasn't significant. What caught my eye was the fact that two homework assignments from a month ago were showing up as zeros. (Zeroes? fuck numbers. fuck spelling.) I knew that I'd done the assignments and that I'd turned them into the drop box outside the department mail room, but I didn't remember whether I'd gotten the assignments back or not. I thought I had, but after digging through everything in my teeny dorm (twice), I had to accept that either I'd left it at my boyfriend's (unlikely) or I'd never gotten it back in the first place.
I emailed the professor, explaining the situation, and his reply was pretty much "No proof? Too bad, too late." I'm hardly paraphrasing. He didn't try to make me feel better.
What irks me is that I hadn't even realized they were missing until tonight. The grades just remained blank, like someone intended to put in a nonzero grade, they just hadn't gotten around to it yet, so when I saw the zeros tonight, it took me by surprise. My homework grades haven't been spectacular, especially since his wording is so vague and sometimes isn't even related to the lectures (now I'm just pushing blame), but I'd never received zeros for them.
No. Actually, what pisses me off is the fact that someone lost my homework assignments. Two of them. My grade was kind of borderline and their stupid mistake pushed it under. Even if I had discovered it earlier, what could have been done to avoid this mess of a grade that I have now?
It's been more than two hours since then and I'm still in a foul mood. I'm angry at the professor for not being more helpful or sympathetic. I'm angry at the graders who lost two of my assignments. I'm angry at my poor sick boyfriend for resting instead of looking for my homework at his place in case by some slim chance it actually did end up there. But mostly, I'm angry at me for letting this shit happen to me. This was the course that I spent the most time and effort on. This was the course I liked, because I was learning stuff that was interesting and useful. This was the course that was difficult, but didn't seem too difficult, and I thought my grade couldn't be that bad.
Except it was. I gave it my all (ok. 90%. I refuse to give up sleep.) and in return I get a shitty grade and no way to redeem myself.
Fuck you, universe.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
SRSLY
I am going to take my suitemate's radio and stuff it down the toilet. If she were hearing impaired or possibly deaf, I'd forgive her for playing her shitty music so goddamn loud. But she's not. So I won't.
She takes at least two showers a day and every time, she turns up her awful music to ear-shattering volume and it pumps right through the flimsy wall that separates my room from the bathroom.
I'm confused in general by people who must have music when they shower, but I usually tolerate it because it's usually at perfectly respectable volumes. And hey, I like most kinds of music.
But any music, no matter what type, sounds like UTTER SHIT when played that loudly.
SHOWER IN SILENCE, YOU FILTHY GIRL. SHOWER IN SILENCE.
She takes at least two showers a day and every time, she turns up her awful music to ear-shattering volume and it pumps right through the flimsy wall that separates my room from the bathroom.
I'm confused in general by people who must have music when they shower, but I usually tolerate it because it's usually at perfectly respectable volumes. And hey, I like most kinds of music.
But any music, no matter what type, sounds like UTTER SHIT when played that loudly.
SHOWER IN SILENCE, YOU FILTHY GIRL. SHOWER IN SILENCE.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Definitely Friday
It's definitely Friday, and I'm definitely not sober. I hesitate to say drunk because I've only been severely drunk once, and anything less than that I regard as "sort of tipsy". Because I'm a girl and I can get away with shit like that.
Anyway, I caught myself doing that thing again where I write teeny blog posts by updating my status and then commenting on my own status in lieu of paragraph breaks. I find this a productive act of creativity, and besides, who doesn't like seeing long, rambling, non-sober status blogs in their newsfeed? But it's also sort of a waste because those things are hard to archive, and I'm nothing if not obsessed with keeping all my shit together.
So here's what I was thinking:
You know how people are always saying, in movies and TV and shit, how if there are aliens and they come to Earth or try to contact us, we should be friendly and inviting? Or at least tolerant? I mean, it's subverted in other shows like in V, or in earlier movies, aliens are just plain evil, but in general, there's this feeling that we should be tolerant. Just in case, you know, the aliens come in peace and whatnot. We shouldn't shoot up a store before we check if there's cash in the register.
It makes sense in my head. Fuck you. Stop judging me.
Well, my thought is, What the hell? Aliens? Shoot them up! Get 'em out of here!
Here's why:
We humans are pretty damn fucked up. It's 2011 and we still haven't achieved world peace. Far from it, in fact. Just look at all the shit that happened in this year alone, and it's only April. Most people, if not all, still harbor their own prejudices regarding race, sexual orientation, sexual identity, and some other shit that I'm too tipsy (ok, drunk) to form words for right now. If we can't even get world peace right, what the hell are we doing trying to be nice to aliens? We want to treat aliens better than we treat each other? What the fuck is that?
Fucked up shit is what.
I want world peace as much as anyone, but you gotta realize, things are complicated. People are complicated. We're independent thinkers, and most of us want what's best for ourselves and ours. Not many people (if any) are inherently evil, but most of us want to be in the better boat, and that means someone's gotta be in the shitty boat. We can't even make nice with each other; we're a long ways away from making nice with the citizens of another planet.
And that's why I hope aliens take their time getting here, if they're even interested in us at all. I mean, if I were an alien race that had accomplished intergalactic travel, I'm not sure how interested I would be in stupid things like humans. They might like our plants though. They'd take all our marshmallow plants. Bastards.
I've also discovered that I perform better on Angry Birds when I picture people I dislike as the green pigs. My internal monologue gets pretty ugly, but it's effective.
My elbows are getting numb, so I should stop typing. No one reads this thing anyway. Just me. That's the way it should be.
Anyway, I caught myself doing that thing again where I write teeny blog posts by updating my status and then commenting on my own status in lieu of paragraph breaks. I find this a productive act of creativity, and besides, who doesn't like seeing long, rambling, non-sober status blogs in their newsfeed? But it's also sort of a waste because those things are hard to archive, and I'm nothing if not obsessed with keeping all my shit together.
So here's what I was thinking:
You know how people are always saying, in movies and TV and shit, how if there are aliens and they come to Earth or try to contact us, we should be friendly and inviting? Or at least tolerant? I mean, it's subverted in other shows like in V, or in earlier movies, aliens are just plain evil, but in general, there's this feeling that we should be tolerant. Just in case, you know, the aliens come in peace and whatnot. We shouldn't shoot up a store before we check if there's cash in the register.
It makes sense in my head. Fuck you. Stop judging me.
Well, my thought is, What the hell? Aliens? Shoot them up! Get 'em out of here!
Here's why:
We humans are pretty damn fucked up. It's 2011 and we still haven't achieved world peace. Far from it, in fact. Just look at all the shit that happened in this year alone, and it's only April. Most people, if not all, still harbor their own prejudices regarding race, sexual orientation, sexual identity, and some other shit that I'm too tipsy (ok, drunk) to form words for right now. If we can't even get world peace right, what the hell are we doing trying to be nice to aliens? We want to treat aliens better than we treat each other? What the fuck is that?
Fucked up shit is what.
I want world peace as much as anyone, but you gotta realize, things are complicated. People are complicated. We're independent thinkers, and most of us want what's best for ourselves and ours. Not many people (if any) are inherently evil, but most of us want to be in the better boat, and that means someone's gotta be in the shitty boat. We can't even make nice with each other; we're a long ways away from making nice with the citizens of another planet.
And that's why I hope aliens take their time getting here, if they're even interested in us at all. I mean, if I were an alien race that had accomplished intergalactic travel, I'm not sure how interested I would be in stupid things like humans. They might like our plants though. They'd take all our marshmallow plants. Bastards.
I've also discovered that I perform better on Angry Birds when I picture people I dislike as the green pigs. My internal monologue gets pretty ugly, but it's effective.
My elbows are getting numb, so I should stop typing. No one reads this thing anyway. Just me. That's the way it should be.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
St Patty's a bitch
Guy 1: Dude, I wanna get high. Just once. JUST ONCE.
Guy 2: No, I'm not gonna let you get addicted.
Guy 1: I don't wanna, like, smoke it all the time. But I, like, wanna get high. Just ONCE.
Guy 2: Ok, but I'm not gonna let you get addicted.
Guy1: JUST ONCE.
Guy 2: I'm your friend, I'm not gonna let you get addicted. I would expect the same from you.
Guy 1: I wanna get high!
Girls 1 thru 5: WE ARE SO DRUNK AND DESPERATE. WHOO HOO WE ARE TEH SLUTTEH!
Girl 2: I LOVE YOUUUUUU.
Girl 1: It broke again. It broked more.
Girl 5: Aren't I so good sex right now?
Guys 1&2: We are cool and fighting!
Girl 3: You two can't fight because I LOVE YOU BOTH, Cedric.
Girl 4: Haha, I dropped my phone again!
Fuck you, Saint Patrick's Day. Fuck. You.
They come in shifts. When one drunk group drifts drunkenly away, another, rowdier bunch takes its place. The girls are inevitably drunk and desperate for attention. The guys are inevitably high out of their tiny brains with delusions of manly prowess. They all stand outside my window, bragging about how drunk and horny they are.
I've given up on wishing these people away. If I wake up tomorrow morning and the space outside my window hasn't been vomited or urinated upon, littered with remains of joints, or set on fire, I'll count my blessings.
Guy 2: No, I'm not gonna let you get addicted.
Guy 1: I don't wanna, like, smoke it all the time. But I, like, wanna get high. Just ONCE.
Guy 2: Ok, but I'm not gonna let you get addicted.
Guy1: JUST ONCE.
Guy 2: I'm your friend, I'm not gonna let you get addicted. I would expect the same from you.
Guy 1: I wanna get high!
Girls 1 thru 5: WE ARE SO DRUNK AND DESPERATE. WHOO HOO WE ARE TEH SLUTTEH!
Girl 2: I LOVE YOUUUUUU.
Girl 1: It broke again. It broked more.
Girl 5: Aren't I so good sex right now?
Guys 1&2: We are cool and fighting!
Girl 3: You two can't fight because I LOVE YOU BOTH, Cedric.
Girl 4: Haha, I dropped my phone again!
Fuck you, Saint Patrick's Day. Fuck. You.
They come in shifts. When one drunk group drifts drunkenly away, another, rowdier bunch takes its place. The girls are inevitably drunk and desperate for attention. The guys are inevitably high out of their tiny brains with delusions of manly prowess. They all stand outside my window, bragging about how drunk and horny they are.
I've given up on wishing these people away. If I wake up tomorrow morning and the space outside my window hasn't been vomited or urinated upon, littered with remains of joints, or set on fire, I'll count my blessings.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Have dinosaur, will doodle
I have this weird habit where I doodle dinosaurs on all my test papers. Well, usually just one dinosaur per test. Dinosaurs can be super territorial, or so movies would lead me to believe.
As someone who used to be a perfectionist, I feel like I owe instructors something when I feel like I didn't do so well on an exam, or even if I do feel pretty good about it but fear the possibility that I'm completely off my rocker and accidentally read all the questiosn backwards. So I draw them a dinosaur. Not an outrageously accurate one. Most of the time I don't even shade. I'm almost sure no actual dinosaur ever looked as lumpy or apologetic as my dinosaurs turn out. But it feels like I'm writing my own extra credit question and answering it correctly.
Draw a dinosaur for extra credit.
DONE.
I have not yet collected conclusive evidence that the inclusion of a dinosaur doodle improves my test grades. There's even the marginal possibility that I'd do better if I used my dinosaur doodling time to review my answers one more time or attempt to properly answer questions that I BS'd the first time through due to utter cluelessness. But for now, I am going to operate under the assumption that these dinosaurs are awesome and they put a smile on graders' faces and convince them to be a little more forgiving when they're marking my test papers.
As someone who used to be a perfectionist, I feel like I owe instructors something when I feel like I didn't do so well on an exam, or even if I do feel pretty good about it but fear the possibility that I'm completely off my rocker and accidentally read all the questiosn backwards. So I draw them a dinosaur. Not an outrageously accurate one. Most of the time I don't even shade. I'm almost sure no actual dinosaur ever looked as lumpy or apologetic as my dinosaurs turn out. But it feels like I'm writing my own extra credit question and answering it correctly.
Draw a dinosaur for extra credit.
DONE.
I have not yet collected conclusive evidence that the inclusion of a dinosaur doodle improves my test grades. There's even the marginal possibility that I'd do better if I used my dinosaur doodling time to review my answers one more time or attempt to properly answer questions that I BS'd the first time through due to utter cluelessness. But for now, I am going to operate under the assumption that these dinosaurs are awesome and they put a smile on graders' faces and convince them to be a little more forgiving when they're marking my test papers.
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