- Ok, well here goes another great indepth post. Not. Ah well, I'm tired and watching House, so I suppose this will have to do.
- I love House!
- But it sure doesn't help my hypochondrial tendencies
- On that nore, I have a funky rash on the left side of my back, right about where my bra strap sits. There's a bunch of bumps and it's itchy and sore. I've had excema on my back before, but it's never presented like this before. I showed it to Mom, and she said she thinks it's just my excema, but maybe it's shingles. Great. Now I can't stop thinking about that. Plus I made the mistake of looking it up on the internet, and the pictures kind of look like my back. Please let it just be excema.
- Hmm, don't think I've ever said that before.
- My car still isn't fixed. Boo.
- I think that it's time to take it to a real "mechanic" but of course, my HS thinks he can still fix it. If it's not better by tomorrow, I think I'll push for that idea even more.
- I need my car to get to school.
- I need my car to get to camp this weekend.
- Bah, I have to go to camp.
- I can barely take 2 hours with our girls, how am I going to last a whole weekend?
- Well it should at least make for some interesting posts. Unlike this one.
- I hate Tritter.
- How am I getting to school tomorrow? My grandparents. Yep, I 'm getting dropped off at university by grandma and grandpa. Awww, how sweet. Not.
- I could continue, but it's just going to go downhill from here and House is over so I am going to bed.
- Tomorrow: study for my Religion Buddhism test so I can take my test before it closes; do my Latin assignment; get my Logic test back; start my Logic problem set; see if my Philosophy test is marked yet . . . exciting, eh? I know.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Random Bullets of My Day
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Alone
I am alone . . . and lonely
My own sadness makes everything around me
more beautiful.
The dusk falls softly,
As simply as a page turning or a bird lighting on the ground.
The sky grows dull rose near the rooftops
And, high above me, a sea-blue green.
I am caught up in it all - and small.
I search for words. I ache with words I cannot find.
Inside, the phone rings.
"Where's Kate?" Dad asks.
I am here - but I say nothing.
He calls - but I do not answer.
"She's not in yet," he says to someone.
"I'll tell her you phoned."
I could go in.
Soon it will be suppertime anyway.
Time for eating and talking and being part of things,
Belonging again to the horrible, boring, nice, funny,
noisy, angry, loving world of people.
I'll go in when I have to.
In half an hour, I'll even like it.
Now . . .
Now I'll stay out here, hugging my separateness,
my oneness.
I am alone. I am lonely.
I am growing into me.
- Jean Little
My own sadness makes everything around me
more beautiful.
The dusk falls softly,
As simply as a page turning or a bird lighting on the ground.
The sky grows dull rose near the rooftops
And, high above me, a sea-blue green.
I am caught up in it all - and small.
I search for words. I ache with words I cannot find.
Inside, the phone rings.
"Where's Kate?" Dad asks.
I am here - but I say nothing.
He calls - but I do not answer.
"She's not in yet," he says to someone.
"I'll tell her you phoned."
I could go in.
Soon it will be suppertime anyway.
Time for eating and talking and being part of things,
Belonging again to the horrible, boring, nice, funny,
noisy, angry, loving world of people.
I'll go in when I have to.
In half an hour, I'll even like it.
Now . . .
Now I'll stay out here, hugging my separateness,
my oneness.
I am alone. I am lonely.
I am growing into me.
- Jean Little
Poetry
I've been thinking about poetry a lot lately, for various reasons and in various contexts, so when I saw this meme, I thought it would be the perfect thing for a lazy, snowy Sunday afternoon in November.
1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was . . .
While I'm sure I heard many poems from my parents and grandparents as a baby and toddler, the first poem I personally remember, and the first I would claim as my own, is the first poem I ever recited at a speech arts recital. I don't remember how old I was - 5 or 6 maybe? It was in a lecture theatre type room at the local community college. I was wearing a red/white/black 101 Dalmatians outfit. I was so painfully shy when I was little. I've been told I whispered the whole thing. I have some other memories of that night, but I'm not sure if they are true memories, or things I have made up over the years that fit with the story and embellish it. Anyways, the poem was I Had A Little Turtle - Anonymous.
1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was . . .
While I'm sure I heard many poems from my parents and grandparents as a baby and toddler, the first poem I personally remember, and the first I would claim as my own, is the first poem I ever recited at a speech arts recital. I don't remember how old I was - 5 or 6 maybe? It was in a lecture theatre type room at the local community college. I was wearing a red/white/black 101 Dalmatians outfit. I was so painfully shy when I was little. I've been told I whispered the whole thing. I have some other memories of that night, but I'm not sure if they are true memories, or things I have made up over the years that fit with the story and embellish it. Anyways, the poem was I Had A Little Turtle - Anonymous.
I had a little turtle
Who lived in a box.
He swam in a puddle,
He climbed on a rock.
He snapped at a mosquito,
He snapped at a flea.
He snapped at a minnow,
And he snapped at me!
He caught the mosquito,
He caught the flea.
He caught the minnow,
But he didn't catch me!
Who lived in a box.
He swam in a puddle,
He climbed on a rock.
He snapped at a mosquito,
He snapped at a flea.
He snapped at a minnow,
And he snapped at me!
He caught the mosquito,
He caught the flea.
He caught the minnow,
But he didn't catch me!
2. I was forced to memorize [name of poem] in school, and . . .
I'm not sure I remember ever memorizing a poem in school. I remember having to memorize lines and songs for Christmas concerts. Oh wait, we had to memorize poems as a class for the Kiwanis Festival, but none of them really stick out. I've had to write poems in various English classes throughout the years. In English 10 I had to memorize a passage from both Julius Caesar and Twelfth Night to perform in front of the class. All the poems I remember having to memorize have been for Speech, not for school. Of course, like practically everything else I do, I would start out with the best of intentions, but then usually left memorizing them completely for the night before I had to preform them. By some incredible stroke of luck, I never had to face the embarrassment of forgetting my lines in front of an audience. Of course, that meant I wasn't always word perfect. On more than I occasion I paraphrased into my own words various parts of various poems because I could remember the basic idea, but couldn't remember the exact words. I'm not sure that that went over much better than just outright forgetting them would have.
3. I read/don't read poetry because . . .
I enjoy reading poetry, but I have to be in the right mood. I don't sit down with a book of poetry and read it straight through. Instead, I will flip through, reading poems as they catch my eye. Sometimes there will be a certain poem that matches what I am feeling exactly, and I will search that poem out and read it multiple times and wallow in it. Usually I read novels as pleasure reading, but there are sometimes when only poetry will do.
4. A poem I am likely to think about when asked for a favourite poem is . . .
Hmm . . . this is a hard question. There are a lot of poems that I really like and would consider favourites depending on when I am asked. It's hard to choose just one. I think I would probably go with Alone by Jean Little. I really like a lot of her poems. They seem to capture exactly how I feel - this one especially. It suits me perfectly.
5. I write/don't write poetry, but . . .
I do write poetry. Kind of. I go through phases where I write poetry constantly, and it's actually pretty good. Then there are times when I really want to write poetry, but I just can't seem to do it. If I can even manage to get something down on paper it isn't even worth being called a piece of crap. The third type of phase is when I just have no interest in writing poetry at all, so I don't even bother trying. The first phase is awesome. The middle phase is awful. "I ache with words I cannot find." I'm in that phase right now. Hopefully it will pass soon.
6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature . . .
I am always reading a novel, every free moment I have. Poetry, on the other hand, only gets read occasionally, when I am in the mood for it. If I am not, then I get nothing out of it. Sometimes I will read a poem just once, and then lead it. Other poems I will read over and over and over in one sitting -sometimes to try and understand it, sometimes just to drink it in. Reading poetry is something that I do just for me, unlike much of the other reading I do.
7. I find poetry . . .
Everywhere and in everything, especially if I am looking for it. I love, however, when I find poetry somewhere unexpected, or when I don't realize that I am looking for it.
8. The last time I heard poetry . . .
It's been a long time since I've heard others performing poetry. Probably not since I last performed in the Kiwanis festival. I've been thinking lately of going to check out one of the poetry readings that some groups in town put on occasionally. I enjoy hearing people read their poems, but for the most part, I prefer to experience poetry by reading it myself. It is a very personal thing, for me, I think.
9. I think poetry is like . . .
A good thunderstorm . . . staring into a deep, calm, summer lake . . . a hug . . . a good, long run . . . crying . . . friends . . . comfort food . . . laughter . . . a release . . . fish . . . an ache . . . the wind . . . God . . . a well . . . a good, loud scream . . . falling in love . . . a look into the human soul . . . I think poetry is wisdom.
As seen at The Hobgoblin of Little Minds
I'm not sure I remember ever memorizing a poem in school. I remember having to memorize lines and songs for Christmas concerts. Oh wait, we had to memorize poems as a class for the Kiwanis Festival, but none of them really stick out. I've had to write poems in various English classes throughout the years. In English 10 I had to memorize a passage from both Julius Caesar and Twelfth Night to perform in front of the class. All the poems I remember having to memorize have been for Speech, not for school. Of course, like practically everything else I do, I would start out with the best of intentions, but then usually left memorizing them completely for the night before I had to preform them. By some incredible stroke of luck, I never had to face the embarrassment of forgetting my lines in front of an audience. Of course, that meant I wasn't always word perfect. On more than I occasion I paraphrased into my own words various parts of various poems because I could remember the basic idea, but couldn't remember the exact words. I'm not sure that that went over much better than just outright forgetting them would have.
3. I read/don't read poetry because . . .
I enjoy reading poetry, but I have to be in the right mood. I don't sit down with a book of poetry and read it straight through. Instead, I will flip through, reading poems as they catch my eye. Sometimes there will be a certain poem that matches what I am feeling exactly, and I will search that poem out and read it multiple times and wallow in it. Usually I read novels as pleasure reading, but there are sometimes when only poetry will do.
4. A poem I am likely to think about when asked for a favourite poem is . . .
Hmm . . . this is a hard question. There are a lot of poems that I really like and would consider favourites depending on when I am asked. It's hard to choose just one. I think I would probably go with Alone by Jean Little. I really like a lot of her poems. They seem to capture exactly how I feel - this one especially. It suits me perfectly.
5. I write/don't write poetry, but . . .
I do write poetry. Kind of. I go through phases where I write poetry constantly, and it's actually pretty good. Then there are times when I really want to write poetry, but I just can't seem to do it. If I can even manage to get something down on paper it isn't even worth being called a piece of crap. The third type of phase is when I just have no interest in writing poetry at all, so I don't even bother trying. The first phase is awesome. The middle phase is awful. "I ache with words I cannot find." I'm in that phase right now. Hopefully it will pass soon.
6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature . . .
I am always reading a novel, every free moment I have. Poetry, on the other hand, only gets read occasionally, when I am in the mood for it. If I am not, then I get nothing out of it. Sometimes I will read a poem just once, and then lead it. Other poems I will read over and over and over in one sitting -sometimes to try and understand it, sometimes just to drink it in. Reading poetry is something that I do just for me, unlike much of the other reading I do.
7. I find poetry . . .
Everywhere and in everything, especially if I am looking for it. I love, however, when I find poetry somewhere unexpected, or when I don't realize that I am looking for it.
8. The last time I heard poetry . . .
It's been a long time since I've heard others performing poetry. Probably not since I last performed in the Kiwanis festival. I've been thinking lately of going to check out one of the poetry readings that some groups in town put on occasionally. I enjoy hearing people read their poems, but for the most part, I prefer to experience poetry by reading it myself. It is a very personal thing, for me, I think.
9. I think poetry is like . . .
A good thunderstorm . . . staring into a deep, calm, summer lake . . . a hug . . . a good, long run . . . crying . . . friends . . . comfort food . . . laughter . . . a release . . . fish . . . an ache . . . the wind . . . God . . . a well . . . a good, loud scream . . . falling in love . . . a look into the human soul . . . I think poetry is wisdom.
As seen at The Hobgoblin of Little Minds
Friday, November 24, 2006
Sigh. Weekend Where Are You?
TGIF? Not so much today. I'm hoping that this was just an off day and not a sign of how my weekend is going to go, because I really need a break.
* I'm am dreadfully fearful that by calling it names, I am only further angering my car, and now it is going to have even more wrong with it than just a dead battery. I'm sorry, car. Please forgive me. I didn't mean all those things I said. I just want you back. Please.
** Gee you'd think that today was the first day it's snowed and dropped below -10 and whatnot since last winter. Oh wait, it is. And it's only supposed to get colder from here. -25 to -30 this weekend, without the wind chill factored in. It's all going to clear up before next weekend when I have to go camping, though, right? Yes, you read that right: camping. Coming soon to a computer near you: Im-Kay's Winter Camping Adventures!! There will be some good stories from that, I can tell you that right now. I love our girls, but oh boy, are they a handful. And there are 14! of! them! 14, I tell you! We have never had that many girls before. They are making me sound and feel like my mother. I am not that much older than them , I swear. But I digress. I could have used unseasonably sunny weather for a couple more weeks yet. (Global warming? Climate change? What are you talking about? That can't be bad - it makes it warmer! Riiiight.)
***We'll not get into the whole HS as bus driver thing right now. You'd think that for that reason his kids would be riding the bus all the time. Ya. Not so much. You won't get any of us on the bus unless absolutely direly necessary, and even then we will drag our heels about it and complain. But again, that's another story for another day.
****Because, you know, my day was so terribly horrible in the grand scheme of things. I am healthy. I am safe. I am warm. I am fed. I am loved. Hell, I'm even alive! I could have it much worse. (On a related note, go check out AtomicTumor. It is so insanely sad and real.)
*****Oh ya, right under my left breast, where it connects to my torso, really hurts. I think my bra was rubbing the skin raw, but the position is such that I can't really see, and I'm too lazy to go look in the mirror. But it hurts! Badly! Ok, ok, I know. TMI. I'm going now. I promise.
(But it hurts)
- It all started this morning, or really, last night, when I forgot to leave the front door unlocked for our cleaning lady who comes on Friday mornings. This means that she couldn't get into our house this morning, which means that one, our house is still really dirty and now I am going to have to clean it, and two, my mom is going to be mad and I'm going to have to listen to her go on and on about being responsible. I wasn't the only one home. Blondie could have remembered too, but of course I'm the oldest, so it's all my fault. Whatever. I'm the one who'll end up doing all the cleaning, too, not her.
- Anyways, then I had to drop Blondie off at school, because she has a spare in the morning and no vehicle. Needless to say that I had to wait for her to be ready, so I was running late.
- Then I skipped a couple of classes to hang out with friends, which wasn't really a good thing, per say, but I haven't hung out or even really talked to them for a long time, so it was much needed. After that I went to Latin, because I can't skip that class, and we had a quiz and assignment due and stuff.
- After that I was done class for the day and was supposed to meet up with friends again for lunch, but somehow we missed each other, so I went to Tim's for my usual BLT.
- Which took freakin' forever to get, because they had one till open with a huge line and the majority of the employees standing around in a clump watching the window painter decorate the windows for Christmas. When I finally got my sandwich I went to leave and decided to start eating it in the car because I was Starving! So I unwrapped, which, it turns out, was a good thing, because
- They put mayo on my sandwich even though I specifically specified NO mayo and the person who took my order told the sandwich maker that, so I went back in and spent another 20 minutes of my life waiting in line. Yes everyone was still watching the window painter. I finally got a new, mayo free sandwich, which I promptly devoured on my way home. I made myself feel super sick, I ate so fast, but I was hungry. When I got home I went to shovel the sidewalk and
- Promptly shredded my knuckle against the brick on the front/side of our garage. It wouldn't stop bleeding, but I couldn't feel it because my hands were too numb from the cold, so I let it bleed all over my jeans (unbeknowest to me, of course). When I finally finished, I went inside, and oh god, did it hurt. It didn't help that my hands were trying to unfreeze themselves in the most painful way possible. My fingers finally became functional just in time for me to realize that
- I had forgot to swing by my grandparents to pick up some box of bacon my parents bought from my cousin's fundraiser. But I didn't have time to go get it then because
- I had to go to work, where I had to deal with notoriously difficult artists all night, because it was the annual Christmas sale, so needless to say I didn't get
- Any homework/studying done, and I won't again tomorrow, as the sale continues, and as the HauntedOldSchool boss is coming in as well, so I will have to make small talk with her all day long. But work finally ended and I was actually able to leave at a decent hour to meet up with my friends, only to learn that
- They had decided to go to a movie instead and that it started early so I couldn't go (it was one I wanted to see too, finally (Stranger Than Fiction) compared to all the crappy movies I have had to go with them to) but even if it had been later, it wouldn't have mattered, because
- My car wouldn't start! I spent the next ten minutes trying to find someone who could come give me a boost, only to realize that I was staring straight at the van of the cleaning chick who was currently inside HauntedOldSchool cleaning. So I asked her to boost me, which she nicely agreed to do, only my stupid car* still wouldn't start. She offered to let me use her AMA card, so I went inside to do that, only to have to wait on hold for 20 minutes.** At that point, Pops phoned me back, so I just said screw it and got him to come pick me up and left my car there. He's also going to give me a ride to work tomorrow morning. Hopefully my car will start after work tomorrow, but I'm not holding my breath.
- Anyways, that leaves Blondie and I vehicleless this weekend as everyone else is out of town, which sucks, as I had a ton of errands I wanted to do tomorrow and we were going to go shopping on Sunday. Plus, if I can't get my car to start tomorrow, or get it boosted, I'm stuck without a car for who knows how long because I have to wait for HS to get back from Vegas sometime late Sunday or early Monday for him to fix it, but he won't get to it for who knows how long after he gets back, as he'll have to work and catch up on all the rental and sign stuff and whatnot that he's missed. And if I don't have a car to get to school, I will be royally pissed. I am not taking the bus!!***
- So ya, that was my day. And I think I'm getting a cold, and I'm insanely tired, and this has been way too stressful of a week, and things aren't going to get any less stressed for a long time - probably not until after Christmas, actually - in fact, they are just going to get more stressed. All I want to do now is crawl into my nice warm bed and curl up and sleep for a year, but I have to get up tomorrow to go back to evil work (whose fault all this is - rational, I know), and grrrrrrr!
* I'm am dreadfully fearful that by calling it names, I am only further angering my car, and now it is going to have even more wrong with it than just a dead battery. I'm sorry, car. Please forgive me. I didn't mean all those things I said. I just want you back. Please.
** Gee you'd think that today was the first day it's snowed and dropped below -10 and whatnot since last winter. Oh wait, it is. And it's only supposed to get colder from here. -25 to -30 this weekend, without the wind chill factored in. It's all going to clear up before next weekend when I have to go camping, though, right? Yes, you read that right: camping. Coming soon to a computer near you: Im-Kay's Winter Camping Adventures!! There will be some good stories from that, I can tell you that right now. I love our girls, but oh boy, are they a handful. And there are 14! of! them! 14, I tell you! We have never had that many girls before. They are making me sound and feel like my mother. I am not that much older than them , I swear. But I digress. I could have used unseasonably sunny weather for a couple more weeks yet. (Global warming? Climate change? What are you talking about? That can't be bad - it makes it warmer! Riiiight.)
***We'll not get into the whole HS as bus driver thing right now. You'd think that for that reason his kids would be riding the bus all the time. Ya. Not so much. You won't get any of us on the bus unless absolutely direly necessary, and even then we will drag our heels about it and complain. But again, that's another story for another day.
****Because, you know, my day was so terribly horrible in the grand scheme of things. I am healthy. I am safe. I am warm. I am fed. I am loved. Hell, I'm even alive! I could have it much worse. (On a related note, go check out AtomicTumor. It is so insanely sad and real.)
*****Oh ya, right under my left breast, where it connects to my torso, really hurts. I think my bra was rubbing the skin raw, but the position is such that I can't really see, and I'm too lazy to go look in the mirror. But it hurts! Badly! Ok, ok, I know. TMI. I'm going now. I promise.
(But it hurts)
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Thanksgiving? No Thanks
So it's Thanksgiving in the US today and just another Thursday up here. I like it that way. I like that we have a seperate Thanksgiving from the US. I don't like being Americanized and the more differences between us the better. But besides that (and I could go on and on on that theme - even the fact that we are so aware that it is Thanksgiving there today and I am writing about it bugs me) I much prefer our Thanksgiving date for more practical reasons as well. Sure it's a nice lead in to the Christmas season, but it's too close. Why would I want a break from school now when there's only two weeks left before the semester is over anyways? I'd rather have the day off back in October when there's no other break. We have class all September, and then just when we are first starting to get sick of it, we have a break for Thanksgiving. Then we have another month or so of school and then get a break in the beginning of November for Remembrance Day, leaving just a month of school before we break for exams and Christmas. Having Thanksgiving in October spreads the breaks out much better - and for that I am truly thankful!
But not as thankful as I am to be Canadian. : )
(On a related note, my HumanSuperman (or HS) and QuestionBoy (QB) are in Las Vegas this weekend for a soccer tournament. They left this morning at 1 freakin 30 in the morning to drive to the worst city in this province for a 6:00 flight. Hope they're having a safe trip, a good time, and that they bring me back something cool! Plus Mom left this afternoon for the cool city where Batman now resides, so it's just me and Blondie here this weekend. Yay for the peace and quiet, but I wish I didn't have to work so I could have gone with her and gone shopping at the giant mall and spent the whole weekend illogically hoping to run into Batman and then being disappointed when I didn't. But that's a whole other story)
But not as thankful as I am to be Canadian. : )
(On a related note, my HumanSuperman (or HS) and QuestionBoy (QB) are in Las Vegas this weekend for a soccer tournament. They left this morning at 1 freakin 30 in the morning to drive to the worst city in this province for a 6:00 flight. Hope they're having a safe trip, a good time, and that they bring me back something cool! Plus Mom left this afternoon for the cool city where Batman now resides, so it's just me and Blondie here this weekend. Yay for the peace and quiet, but I wish I didn't have to work so I could have gone with her and gone shopping at the giant mall and spent the whole weekend illogically hoping to run into Batman and then being disappointed when I didn't. But that's a whole other story)
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
I should be happy . . .
. . . I am finally finished with the one (that's right - 1!) paper that I had to write this semester. But, oh boy, was it a process. The prof that it was for has a system of due dates that I really liked. If we handed our paper in by the first due date, it would be marked with copious comments throughout. However, we had a weeks grace period after that date within which we could submit our paper without penalty, the catch being that it would be marked without comments. After this week was up, we had another week in which we could submit it, but we would lose 10% each day. Like I said, I really liked how he had this set up.
So anyways, when we first got the assignment, I had my time all mapped out. I was going to get this paper written in plenty of time, and make it an awesome paper. I needed it too, as I bombed my mid-term pretty badly (for me at least - some may argue it was still a decent mark, but not I). I had every intention of having my paper written in time to hand in for the first due date. I like me my comments! Needless to say, even despite having a long weekend to write it in (not to mention the month or so since it was assigned), that didn't happen. Ok, so then I planned to write it the next weekend, thus still giving myself time to edit and revise and generally make it a great paper. Well that didn't happen either. What a surprise, I found myself furiously writing the night before it was due, trying to pull a half-decent paper out of my ass.
Of course, this shouldn't have been a surprise, as it is the exact same thing that happens with every single assignment I complete and every single test I study for. It can be seen in all the classes I skip and the reading I don't do. You see, I have this horrible habit of sabotaging myself. I always start with the best of intentions, but those intentions never translate into actions. The part that really bothers me is that I don't know why I continue to do this to myself when I know that it is not good and when I don't want to do it. I don't know if it is because I am bored with the things I have to do/find them too easy and so am trying to challenge myself. Maybe it's because I want to see how far I can push it before I crash and burn. Perhaps I'm trying to show myself/others how great I am - Look! I can leave this to the last minute/not study/etc and still pull off an A.
I suspect it has a little to do with all of the above and is also related to being seen as the goody-two-shoes/teacher's pet/nerd/genius/etc by the vast majority of people. It drives me crazy when people, especially my friends who knowknow the answer, or how I can't make a mistake, or how I'm a "genius," or about how much smarter I am than them, or about being valedictorian, etc, etc, ad infinitum. I think that I'm trying to push it to see how far I can go - how good I really am, and also to make it seem like I'm not so great/perfect/nerdy - that I don't care.
I don't know. I just wish I would stop doing it, because it is insanely stressful and unhealthy. Especially as I am usually interested in whatever it is I am doing, and want to learn more about it, and understand it, and just generally enjoy it when I do get around to doing it (well, not the work part, but the learning part). The worst part is that it results in a finished project that is not my best effort and that really bugs me. If there is one thing that is important to me, it is to always do my best with everything I do. I know that if I were truly to put my best effort into what I do, or at least a decent one, I can do some pretty awesome stuff. I mean, I can do a half-assed job and still come out with A's and A+'s. Not to mention the fact that the work I'm doing now is going to, you know, affect the rest of my life? Ya, there's that little fact to consider as well. I mean, I want to go to grad school and get a PhD. What the hell am I thinking?
I think, too, that some of it has to do with the fact that I am scared about what will happen if I do give my best effort. Either I will do my best and it won't be good enough and I will fail or I will do my best, and it will be really good and then people will expect too much of me and what if I can't deliver on their expectations the next time? I can't be perfect all the time and at everything. That goes back to what I said about not likeing it when poeple refer to me as intellegent, bring up the fact that I was valedictorian, etc. Doing my best on something is just setting myself up for failure on another thing. I'm afraid that I will disappoint/let people down. I know, I know, I just need to stop worrying about others so much and focus on doing right by myself (ugh, I hate that turn of phrase). "I promise to do my best, be true to myself . . . " Oh, ya, that promise I make every week . . .
It's interesting, I'm reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand right now, and I read The Fountainhead previous to this. One of the main themes of these two books, and I gather from that, of her philosophy, is doing your absolute best at all times for your own sake and not being concerned with others. Those who worry about what otehrs think and live thier lives for and through others are at the bottom of the food chain, so to speak. I don't know, I'm not explaining it very well. I haven't thought it through all that much yet. It's still very much at that intuitive stage in the back of my mind, rather than at a stage where I can articulate it clearly. I do have to say, however, that I am really enjoying her books, even without the philosophical aspect, which makes them that much better. She's a good writer and they give me something to think about, which is what a good book should do.
Anyways, whatever the case may be, I don't like this aspect of my personality and am trying to improve it. It's slow going, though. Maybe with the next paper . . .
All this reminds me of a quote that I really like. I first heard it in the movie Akeelah and the Bee which was a much better movie than I expected it to be, but I digress. I am trying to remember its message.
So anyways, when we first got the assignment, I had my time all mapped out. I was going to get this paper written in plenty of time, and make it an awesome paper. I needed it too, as I bombed my mid-term pretty badly (for me at least - some may argue it was still a decent mark, but not I). I had every intention of having my paper written in time to hand in for the first due date. I like me my comments! Needless to say, even despite having a long weekend to write it in (not to mention the month or so since it was assigned), that didn't happen. Ok, so then I planned to write it the next weekend, thus still giving myself time to edit and revise and generally make it a great paper. Well that didn't happen either. What a surprise, I found myself furiously writing the night before it was due, trying to pull a half-decent paper out of my ass.
Of course, this shouldn't have been a surprise, as it is the exact same thing that happens with every single assignment I complete and every single test I study for. It can be seen in all the classes I skip and the reading I don't do. You see, I have this horrible habit of sabotaging myself. I always start with the best of intentions, but those intentions never translate into actions. The part that really bothers me is that I don't know why I continue to do this to myself when I know that it is not good and when I don't want to do it. I don't know if it is because I am bored with the things I have to do/find them too easy and so am trying to challenge myself. Maybe it's because I want to see how far I can push it before I crash and burn. Perhaps I'm trying to show myself/others how great I am - Look! I can leave this to the last minute/not study/etc and still pull off an A.
I suspect it has a little to do with all of the above and is also related to being seen as the goody-two-shoes/teacher's pet/nerd/genius/etc by the vast majority of people. It drives me crazy when people, especially my friends who knowknow the answer, or how I can't make a mistake, or how I'm a "genius," or about how much smarter I am than them, or about being valedictorian, etc, etc, ad infinitum. I think that I'm trying to push it to see how far I can go - how good I really am, and also to make it seem like I'm not so great/perfect/nerdy - that I don't care.
I don't know. I just wish I would stop doing it, because it is insanely stressful and unhealthy. Especially as I am usually interested in whatever it is I am doing, and want to learn more about it, and understand it, and just generally enjoy it when I do get around to doing it (well, not the work part, but the learning part). The worst part is that it results in a finished project that is not my best effort and that really bugs me. If there is one thing that is important to me, it is to always do my best with everything I do. I know that if I were truly to put my best effort into what I do, or at least a decent one, I can do some pretty awesome stuff. I mean, I can do a half-assed job and still come out with A's and A+'s. Not to mention the fact that the work I'm doing now is going to, you know, affect the rest of my life? Ya, there's that little fact to consider as well. I mean, I want to go to grad school and get a PhD. What the hell am I thinking?
I think, too, that some of it has to do with the fact that I am scared about what will happen if I do give my best effort. Either I will do my best and it won't be good enough and I will fail or I will do my best, and it will be really good and then people will expect too much of me and what if I can't deliver on their expectations the next time? I can't be perfect all the time and at everything. That goes back to what I said about not likeing it when poeple refer to me as intellegent, bring up the fact that I was valedictorian, etc. Doing my best on something is just setting myself up for failure on another thing. I'm afraid that I will disappoint/let people down. I know, I know, I just need to stop worrying about others so much and focus on doing right by myself (ugh, I hate that turn of phrase). "I promise to do my best, be true to myself . . . " Oh, ya, that promise I make every week . . .
* * *
It's interesting, I'm reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand right now, and I read The Fountainhead previous to this. One of the main themes of these two books, and I gather from that, of her philosophy, is doing your absolute best at all times for your own sake and not being concerned with others. Those who worry about what otehrs think and live thier lives for and through others are at the bottom of the food chain, so to speak. I don't know, I'm not explaining it very well. I haven't thought it through all that much yet. It's still very much at that intuitive stage in the back of my mind, rather than at a stage where I can articulate it clearly. I do have to say, however, that I am really enjoying her books, even without the philosophical aspect, which makes them that much better. She's a good writer and they give me something to think about, which is what a good book should do.
* * *
Anyways, whatever the case may be, I don't like this aspect of my personality and am trying to improve it. It's slow going, though. Maybe with the next paper . . .
* * *
All this reminds me of a quote that I really like. I first heard it in the movie Akeelah and the Bee which was a much better movie than I expected it to be, but I digress. I am trying to remember its message.
"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. It is out light, not our darkness, that frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brillant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest teh glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone. And, as we let our own light shine, we consiously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others."Yup. That pretty much sums up everything I was trying to say in this rambly, incoherent post. I'm going to bed.
- Nelson Mandela
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Word
Or, of course, I could continue my theme and make it "Verbum," but . . . no.
And no, I am not taking up rap. That is definitely not on my "to do" list.
Rather, I thought I'd do a meme that I have seen on various blogs. It's a pretty lame way to avoid actually thinking of something to write about and what not, but I like this one, and I want to do it, so I'm going. It could be interesting, as if I am anything when I write, I am definitely not brief. Maybe I'll talk about something "real" tomorrow. (Though I really need to write my paper tomorrow, seing as how I wrote exactly one sentence of it this weekend. Of course, that means that I will probably spend even more time reading and posting tomorrow, being the procrastinator that I am. Which is something I want to talk about, by the way, but I digress. Back to the meme.)
You can only type one word, no explanations.
1. Yourself:
Complicated
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend:
Imaginary
3. Your hair:
Schizophrenic
4. Your mother:
Strong
5. Your father:
HumanSuperman
6. Your favourite item:
Laptop
7. Your dream last night:
Lost
8. Your favourite drink:
IcedTea
9. Your dream car:
Fast
10. The room you are in:
Basement
11. Your ex:
Missed
12. Your fear:
Uncontrol
13. What you want to be in 10 years:
Alive
14. Who you hung out with last night:
Internet
15. What you're not:
Sure
16. Muffins:
Fresh
17. One of your wish list items:
PinkyandtheBrain
18. Time:
Insufficient
19. The last thing you did:
Conversed
20. What you are wearing:
Sweats
21. Your favourite weather:
Rain
22. Your favourite book:
Impossible
23. The last thing you ate:
Soup
24. Your life:
WorkinProgress
25. Your mood:
Antsy
26. Your best friend(s):
Laughter
27. What you are thinking about right now:
Bed
28. Your car:
Surprise
29. What are you doing at the moment:
Thinking
30. Your summer:
Gone
31. Your relationship status:
Single
32. What is on your TV:
Stroumboulopoulos
33. What is the weather like:
Confused
34. When is the last time you laughed:
MamboItaliano
Night!
And no, I am not taking up rap. That is definitely not on my "to do" list.
Rather, I thought I'd do a meme that I have seen on various blogs. It's a pretty lame way to avoid actually thinking of something to write about and what not, but I like this one, and I want to do it, so I'm going. It could be interesting, as if I am anything when I write, I am definitely not brief. Maybe I'll talk about something "real" tomorrow. (Though I really need to write my paper tomorrow, seing as how I wrote exactly one sentence of it this weekend. Of course, that means that I will probably spend even more time reading and posting tomorrow, being the procrastinator that I am. Which is something I want to talk about, by the way, but I digress. Back to the meme.)
You can only type one word, no explanations.
1. Yourself:
Complicated
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend:
Imaginary
3. Your hair:
Schizophrenic
4. Your mother:
Strong
5. Your father:
HumanSuperman
6. Your favourite item:
Laptop
7. Your dream last night:
Lost
8. Your favourite drink:
IcedTea
9. Your dream car:
Fast
10. The room you are in:
Basement
11. Your ex:
Missed
12. Your fear:
Uncontrol
13. What you want to be in 10 years:
Alive
14. Who you hung out with last night:
Internet
15. What you're not:
Sure
16. Muffins:
Fresh
17. One of your wish list items:
PinkyandtheBrain
18. Time:
Insufficient
19. The last thing you did:
Conversed
20. What you are wearing:
Sweats
21. Your favourite weather:
Rain
22. Your favourite book:
Impossible
23. The last thing you ate:
Soup
24. Your life:
WorkinProgress
25. Your mood:
Antsy
26. Your best friend(s):
Laughter
27. What you are thinking about right now:
Bed
28. Your car:
Surprise
29. What are you doing at the moment:
Thinking
30. Your summer:
Gone
31. Your relationship status:
Single
32. What is on your TV:
Stroumboulopoulos
33. What is the weather like:
Confused
34. When is the last time you laughed:
MamboItaliano
Night!
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