Here it is!
March: a month where I am prone to illness, confessing bizarre behaviours, and sharing my stupidest observations with the world.
“You scored as Severus Snape.
Well you’re a tricky one aren’t you? Nobody quite has you figured out and you’d probably prefer it stayed that way. That said you are a formidable force by anyone’s reckoning, but there is certainly more to you than a frosty exterior and a bitter temper.”
(back when all the cool kids were taking online quizzes…and also back before we knew that deep down, Snape was one of the good guys)
British Lit: This week we’re going to look at parts of a poem series called “In Memoriam”. It’s by Tennyson… and our book doesn’t have all of the poems in it, but there are 130+ poems, as well as a prologue & epilogue. That’s a lot of poems to be writing about your dead best friend. Yes. That’s what they’re about… they’re the most emo-est poems ever… he wrote something like 10 of them just about the ship that was bringing his friend’s body from Italy back to England. That’s dedication, that is.
Did you ever feel that way? Like it all got blamed on you? Did you ask what you had done wrong? Maybe not…? Did you do anything wrong and feel guilty about it? What can we do to show that we’re sorry? We can’t all of us be amazing all the time and show that we’re all doing right and well.
What made you think we’re okay with what we do wrong? I’m not okay with it and I never was… you have no idea how many days I sit and count all the wrong things I did during the day. The last few hours. My whole life. You have no idea. I’m not okay with it. They can’t be okay with it either… I know some who aren’t. We talk about it sometimes. How much can we keep beating ourselves up about it though? We may as well all just die. We can’t be perfect and recognize every mistake and bad choice and flaw that we act on every moment of every day because it will kill us because we can’t take how bad it really is. We have to try and smooth it over or ignore it sometimes or we will die. Some of us would. We feel that way!
It’s not that we don’t care, it’s that we care so much that if we always made that known we’d never do anything good. We think we don’t as it is. We really think we are useless and now you agree. That hurts a lot.
(Even with the song lyrics thrown into the full entry, I have no idea wtf I was talking about.)
Things are just not fair. They just aren’t.
I know you probably already know that, and I don’t want you to think that I only just realized this about the universe… but I felt like it needed to be said.
(At age 20, my keen powers of observational prowess began to shine forth…)
Ever have one of those days where you just feel like everything you do is stupid and you can point out a hundred times during the day where you made yourself look like an idiot?
Yeah, well… those kinds of days just need to leave me alone because, one, they make me feel really low and I don’t like it very much… and two, they make me really unpleasant to be around, and that in turn just makes me look even MORE like an idiot.
I growl a lot when I’m in one of those moods. Not even joking. I really growl.
The rest of my family all mutter quietly, but I growl.
It kind of feels good to make that noise, so that makes me feel a little better.
It’s like this really rumbly feeling down in my throat… I kind of like hearing myself make that sound. I know I probably sound ridiculous, but it does make me feel better some.
Plus, it gets me away from using swears. I use swears in my stories and poems sometimes, but those are always very deliberate… instead of blurting out swears left and right just because I’m in a bad mood.
Too bad growling makes me feel kind of like an idiot at the same time… since that’s exactly the feeling I’m trying to rid myself of.
(And I still do it to this day.)
I’ve discovered that when British women get really emotional and talk loud, that their voices suddenly become a thousand times less attractive.
Oh yes, it’s true.
(Another diamond of an observation.)
I really hope my university is making a mistake, or there’s gonna be trouble.
For my doppelganger…
Oh yes… I have one, apparently.
What troublesome things they truly are.
(That was the day my university threatened to expel me because of something that a gentleman imbecile who shares my name did.)
The nosebleeds were terrible.
I would be in class, and then I’d have to leave because I’d feel my nose start to run, and I would get out a tissue from my bible case (yeah, that was back when I took my Bible with me everywhere, every day, even if I knew I wouldn’t have time to read it…I’m an idiot now, so I rarely ever take it with me anymore…I should totally start doing that again) and when I’d wipe my nose, ta-da! Bloody. I think I interrupted a bunch of classes that way.
The worst times though, were when I’d have been sleeping, and I’d start coughing and wake myself up, and I’d eventually get over my coughing fit and curl back up and try to go to sleep again, but then I’d feel this tickling sensation in my nose, and I’d know my nose was bleeding. Unfortunately, I am a really lazy person and, instead of reaching for a tissue from the box on my nightstand/chess table, I would just sort of roll over and hang my head off the side of my bed. Big ol’ drops of blood would just fall plip! down onto my fake-wooden floor, and I’d just breathe through my mouth and watch it keep plipping on down, hoping it would just stop and I could wipe it away and that would be that…because pinching my nose to make the bleeding stop would make it even harder to breathe afterward…I don’t know why that happens. It just does.
Eventually I’d realize it wasn’t going to stop very quickly without my intervention, and I’d spend the rest of the night annoyed that I really, really couldn’t breathe and that I had a little puddle of nosebleed to clean up, too…
Anyway, I don’t know what purpose there is in my writing this, except to maybe illustrate that I am lazy and have disgusting personal habits that people who know me would never guess I have…
(That’s quite a confession, coming from me.)
I know my media conspired against me to make this happen.
You see, there’s someone who I can relate all of this back to. There’s someone who, up until I got into the vampire novels, everything I read was about that person. There was always a character that, in my mind, totally made sense as this person, and there was always a character that made sense as me, even in stories I was assigned for class.
Then, when I started reading Dracula and went on through all the other vampire stories I’ve read…it was just me. This other person wasn’t a character anymore, but I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of the same thing I write all my poems about…I think Reeser died, but didn’t die. I write about that a lot.
Music has been kind of similar…when I met Goth music, things were cool between us. I was astonished that it existed, and glad to be its friend. Then I found out that it knew me. It knew about the thing with this character who would always show up in the books I read, and that’s why it had worked so hard to find me. It knew I would need it…
Well, um…that’s creepy and upsetting. I really tried getting away from it for a while, and that’s how I ended up listening to so much alt. rock and befriending Freddie Mercury…but Goth music is too smart for me. It sent out someone more convincing to get me, and I think I let Goth talk me into staying friends since it made things seem like maybe they could be funny instead of depressing after all.
I think it’s introduced me to Voltaire to prove that it has a sense of humor. Just in case I wasn’t convinced all the way.
I think I’m convinced. But that doesn’t mean that I’m completely happy about some things.
(Masterful use of personification, wouldn’t you say? This should’ve been an indicator that I was turning into a crazy person.)
I haven’t thought back about it all evening, but I’m sort of tingling, thinking about it right now. Heehee. Yeah, back when I was sure I was going to Cornerstone back over summer, I wrote in here that I was excited enough to very nearly sprout little bat wings and fly around the ceiling, squeaking (okay, so apparently I almost turned into a little bat…not just wings), and that’s how excited I am right now.
I will try very hard to not turn into a little bat, since that would complicate my life to no end.
(No idea what I was so excited about.)
I’ve never been in someone else’s mind so that I could know for sure, but I’m going to make an assumption about other people’s daydreams. Well, maybe two assumptions. One, that most people daydream in the first person, and that two, most people’s daydreams are actually about themselves.
I hate getting sucked into daydreams with recurrent characters that get depressed and cry at the drop of a hat. What are you supposed to do with them? I mean, it’s your daydream, right? Therefore, you made that person cry, right?
But…if you’re like me, you’re not in your daydream, so how can you get it to stop? Well, you could just stop thinking about it, except that that’s not how daydreams work…ever try to not daydream? Yeah. Neigh on impossible. So you’re stuck with trying to intervene in your own daydream, or waiting for some other character to happen along and get this figment of your imagination to please stop crying…
I think my daydreams are unduly distressing. I should stop having daydreams.
(I still have these same daydreams about the same thing! Less crying…but still…)