Bottoms up.

I’ve got a hot cup of tea (I think it’s herbal, unfortunately) sitting next to me, a study about speaking in tongues staring at me from my left, and a plan to not sleep tonight.

You’d think I have an essay due tomorrow, but in fact, it’s due on Monday. But I need to write the damn thing now because I want to get this shit out of the way so I can study for my important classes which have exams that I should ace because otherwise my report card will be incredibly disappointing.

So right now, I’m not feeling my best.

Then again, I don’t know what my best feels like. I can never fully embrace a good moment because I know it’s going to end and I’ll go back to feeling empty or no good soon enough. The usual seems more real; I don’t trust those times when I’m close to feeling ecstatic. When I get really happy about something, I question my reasons for feeling that way and usually come out on the side of, "My reaction is inappropriate for the level of this event." I am my own wet blanket, yes, but it’s very easy for me to slip into delusions and wishful thinking, I think, so I throw myself the other way.

I must be tired. I reread the previous (previous) line as, "So I throw myself away."

I do love me a good Freudian slip now and then.

After I get over the hump of finals I’ll be returning back to the city I love, but I’m feeling awfully hesitant about seeing my old friends again. There’s going to be another New Year’s do and if it’s a repeat of last year (see January 3, 2006), I’m better off staying at home celebrating the damn thing by myself like I have been for the past however many years.

My goodness that sounds bitter. Am I bitter? I suppose I am.

I don’t know, change hangs over me like some kind of intermittent elephant. I don’t particularly enjoy what I perceive as the personality of my friends "fading" (and part of the symptoms of this are that they "get faded!" This connections kills me). No doubt I have changed from how I was when I started college, but I would argue that the rate I’m going at in terms of in-group display of behavior isn’t keeping pace or changing in a way that fits in nicely with their rates. In general. There is one friend of mine from that group that I think I should actually start hanging out more with as awkward as it would probably be, but I don’t think I’ll be going out of my way to do anything about it. Why? I’m uncertain enough about a good outcome that I’m not willing to muster the effort to try something.

Which is actually probably why a lot of things don’t happen to me. Too damn held back by whatever-it-is to take a chance. I’m not really sure how I go about fixing that. There’s only so much, "God dammit, just do it!" I can act on before I turn into a whiny, useless puddle. I need some kind of catalyst! (My mind is amok with biology and organic chemistry what with finals being right around the corner.)

For example:

An H⁺ walks into a bar and says to the bartender, "I’ve lost my electron!"

Bartender says, "Are you sure?"

H⁺ says, "I’m positive!"

Yes, I am going to some kind of hell for dorks.

On that point, I’d much rather be a nerd, but I’m just not fucking knowledgeable and skilled enough in any academic field to be called that, so general social awkwardness and loser-ness it is.

But I cling to the hope that I’ll make a name for myself in my chosen career and slowly, slowly, I’m starting to see it become real. Have I mentioned that I finally got my ass working in a neuroscience lab? I have my good days and bad days; today was a good one, so I’m hoping the upswing sustains itself for a while. Sure, I’m just a menial "helper monkey" for now, but I can at least see myself conducting research on stuff I think is interesting and coming into the lab and cranking it out every day. The lab I’m at is a neurobiology lab, and the work they’re doing isn’t really what I’d like to go into, but I’m having a taste and extra knowledge is not a bad thing. I’ve always admired those people who can intelligently speak on a variety of topics.

Back to my friends, anyway…

Obviously I’ve got rose-tinted glasses on. I remember I made entries where I was so ready to just more or less tell them to all fuck off, but this distance and time has worn down the edges. Now I feel inklings of being locked in to associate with them every so often, sort of like we’re celebrating shared times past that really didn’t exist and also just because it’s not abrasive enough to warrant me running away. It’s hard to leave what’s got familiarity.

There is a part of me that is kind of excited, though, for festivities. Things don’t have to repeat themselves, so maybe if I give a little, I won’t have to "force" myself to enjoy myself around them (oh, how magnanimous of me).

Mostly I’m just worried about the girl I thought of as best friend. We weren’t really ever, I don’t think, it was kind of floated but didn’t solidify. Her priorities are elsewhere, though I am reluctant to lay out blame on her. I know I’ve written about her before, so I’ll just keep the set-up brief: Why would I want to hang out with someone who’s busy fucking her boyfriend, drinking, getting high, and trying to scrape together susbsistence wages? It’s the first three I can’t work with, because I think she’s got control over that but chooses not to exercise it. I don’t want to abandon her in this time of need, but I’ve no money to give her and I’ve got no business in the other activities, so what good am I to her and what good is she to me? I did try calling her a week or two ago, but apparently the number I have no longer works. She said she’d write, but I haven’t seen anything in my mailbox. I wonder if she ran out of money to pay her cell phone bill.

I am worried about her well-being, because last I heard she was on the downward spiral, but I’m at a lost about what I can do for her. I’m questioning the wisdom of her choices. An 18-year-old doesn’t have a lot of that, most people say; that’s about all I have to go on because I’m not terribly confident in my friend’s rationality. I wonder if she feels any regret about the last six months or so. She is going through a tough time, no doubt, but maybe she brought a lot of it upon herself? I can’t say her boyfriend is exactly the most positive influence either. He’s a nice guy, but he’s also jobless and not in school. Gosh, I guess it’s a lot like TV, when you hear about those young people who don’t feel like they have bright futures. It’s not my place to exhort them to "fight" against the darkness because my life has been downright cushy and I have no idea how they’ve learned to cope with and deal with the world. I don’t think I’m wrong when I say my developmental soup’s very different from the one they’ve been fed on.

Still, I just want to go up to my friend and her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s friends where it can spread from there, and just scream, "WAKE UP!" and get them turned around. We can debate whether I’m just asleep, too, but I think we’re maybe getting too ad hominem. I just don’t think the answer to the big "it" is lying around being a bum, basically. Of course, now I’m assuming that going after some kind of thing like that (if it even exists) is worthwhile. I guess they might be missing or rejecting that part of the idea. I don’t want to be in their face as the presumptuous asshole who has to impose their ways on other people to be happy. Of course, I really am the presumptuous asshole who wants to make them conform to my notion of right, but if it’s getting to where I feel that way, I feel like I should call it quits before I put my foot in my mouth. I could change my view and get comfortable with how they are, but I mean, I really don’t want to do that because it robs me of my best reason to live. It’s kind of funny, because she’s the one who told me to strive for the genuine (around the time high school ended), and here we are now.

I don’t know, I’m in for a karmic bitchslapping any day now, so let’s just make it a big one.

I’m in another one of my moods. One of those where I’m manic and depressed at the same time. I was working the positive version earlier today but now it’s gone the other way into antsiness.

It’s the old "I’m going to disappoint" feeling. I think I really am this time, though. I’ve been slacking so much and now it’s coming around to smack me.

I’m also a little afraid I’m going blind. The floaters have become more prominent and weird shape flashes have become sort of frequent. One of my retinas is probably detached or something. Great. Or it’s something worse! Or it’s "the doctor doesn’t even know what’s wrong." Maybe it’s only psychosomatic. Hysterical blindness or something.

Enough of my hypochondriac musings, though… 

I can’t hit that happy place between stressing out and not caring at all.

I need more self-discipline. (Maybe I’m a lot more like the younger me than even I thought…I got "Needs Improvement" in the row for self-discipline in fourth grade, I remember.)

And just yesterday I was filled with so much joy.

I don’t think I’m bipolar because my manic isn’t very manic nor my depressed very depressed and I cycle between the two too rapidly, but it’s times like these that I don’t have full conviction regarding my sanity. On the whole, I think I’m about as crazy as everybody else, so that makes me thoroughly normal.

Speaking of crazy, the past few weeks or so people have been giving me that, "Sorry, I’m easily amused," embarrassment excuse thing and I have no idea why. I don’t think I’m giving them the "You’re barmy" look so I’m not sure what they’re thinking. It’s been with people I’ve very recently met for the first time so obviously they don’t know about my proclivities but it’s starting to unnerve me. The whatever it is is perfectly fine by me to serve as a small entertainment…maybe they’re used to getting the crazy look and it’s pre-emptive? Or are they trying to convince themselves that they are charmingly quirky? Color me flabbergasted.

(I probably am giving them a look, come to think of it; my facial expressions work a bit different now than they used to—I think I was much better about control before but with the fake laughing and smile becoming something more spontaneous now, things seem to have fallen apart…I think displeasure shows a lot more on my face now, which I need to turn around.)

I don’t know, I’m still working out this whole "being a person" thing. Part of my current identity is being something of a social mongoose (that analogy’s not perfect…) and it’s a part that I like because I think it confers "uniqueness," but the tang of embarrassment is one I could use less of.

With the way I talk, you’d think I was an alien or something. Ah, sweet youth, sweet alienation.

At least I feel better now. The wonders of making my concerns seem run-of-the-mill and petty and ridiculous!

(The following is an experiment, so expect it to be awful. You can be pleasantly surprised if it is at least mediocre!)

As I swirl around in my late-night milieu, reading hither and thither about new things and old things, the nagging feeling that I should be more concerned stalks me.

I have come to a point where I am beginning to feel genuinely comfortable that I am me and that I don’t have to hide, but as we all know, contentedness breeds complacency.

I know the me of even a year ago would find my current carelessness rather appalling. I no longer feel compelled to do everything "right" and I can’t decide whether or not to be worried and change course.

There is something distinctly liberating about going at something freewheeling, but it means I don’t pay as much attention or show as much dedication as I ordinarily would have. I have been lumping things into "stuff I need to care about it" and "stuff I don’t need to care about it" and it’s getting awfully lopsided on one end (guess which).

But some things bring you back around and remind you where your head should be…

So for Thanksgiving a friend of mine whom I knew last year and now lives on the same floor as me in the new dorm invited me (and approximately 15 other people) over to spend the holiday with her family in a richy-rich suburb north of the university.

There were a good number of good parts, but what’s most on my mind right now is of course the stuff that’s hot off the griddle.

Part of me, stupidly enough, in the time leading up to this event, hoped I would be allowed an opportunity to go on my "Drinking is bad!" rant and be impressive (in the good way). I indeed went on a wee rant that left people very silent. I’m sure they all think I’m one kooky bitch, which I think is correct based on my behavior (including maybe talking about myself or making it about me too much) around them (we can debate whether this is a fair assessment of my actual personality rather than just bad first impressions but that’s for some other time) because seriously, what the fuck is that shit about, but though the embarrassment still stings, I am coming around to saying, "Ah, whatever, fuck those people, doesn’t matter what they think of me."

And I mean, I don’t care about the opinion of (one or two of) those people in particular (not people in general) because they’re rather empty-headed. Not that I’m a big thinking juggernaut, but prattle being held as the most enjoyable kind of conversation does not sit well with me. And I know I’ve been engaging in that kind of talk more and more as a matter of trying not to weird people out and be friendly, but I am almost ready to about-face and go back to keeping silent and earnestly dive into the deep. Like, one of them (who was also later part of a duo that made us late for the fast train into town and there’s so much I don’t like about inconsiderateness…) said all her housemates talked philosophy all the time and that she didn’t want it to always sound like she was in class. There were voices of agreement (…including mine, sort of), but even before I nodded, I was thinking, "Wait, what?"

I can try to say (and want to say!) that I’m being Japanese and that a smile or nod doesn’t actually mean that I like it or agree, but that’s the easy way out so yes, I acted to conform.

I am not yet strong enough to unashamedly hold my opinions. I keep telling myself, "Strong opinions but held weakly!" but keeping it fully in mind when I open my mouth is not something that comes automatically for me.

I must try harder and not hold back.

Walking over to the shallow end of the pool, there was this really cute French Canadian guy there (he lives on my floor!) who’s older than I am but only a first year because of college student reasons and he’s very funny and seems smart and serious about learning (even if it’s economics…economics is interesting and important, but it’s a subject I personally abhor studying in depth and I don’t know, the subject doesn’t seem as romantic or beautiful (stirring might be a better word) as pure math or even political/governmental studies). He was in a dream I had last night while I was sleeping at my friend’s house…it seemed so real in my dream (it wasn’t just him showing up, something happened, non-sexual) and I was so happy and then I woke up and was decidedly let down.

Moving back (just a step) from candy, I totally didn’t realize that they don’t really speak English in Quebec. (Give me a break, the only thing I know about French Canada is that Celine Dion is from there.) Boy’s accent is quite thick (which I guess I should’ve figured because Celine Dion speaks accented English). And it’s given rise to two cute stories I now know about him and I do enjoy the good anecdote.

Also, everything of mine is covered in cat hair. Why would you keep four cats when one of your daughters (my friend) is allergic to felines? Is this because she er…looks really different from the rest of you guys?

And I suppose I was ridiculous in thinking that a grocery store would be open Thanksgiving Day at 9 p.m. and in not expecting college students to thirst for the beer. I’m rather relieved the 7-11 dude wouldn’t sell because one of the buyers forgot her ID (she was actually of age, though) and so there was all this business of buying alcohol with the intent of allowing minors to consume it. Two more good anecdote type things about the fellow mentioned above came out of the whole kerfluffle, though, so my complaints there are minimal.

Another thing, I don’t think my friend’s parents liked me much, which was disappointing.

What else?

 "Life’s a garden. Dig it!"

There are certain stories that change every time I tell them. While I’m forming the words, I know what I’m saying isn’t how it was when the event(s) happened, but I don’t bother to correct it either because the new thing sounds better (makes it more convincing or whatever) or it’s not worth the effort (the truth was only fudged a little). It’s like Rashōmon or 1984.

Like (I realize that I might be repeating something I’ve already committed here but 1) maybe I’m not and this stands on its own merit or 2) this version can be compared to the old version and we can test out the fidelity of my memory) the bad times of spring semester junior year. I tell people I was so upset partly because of school and partly because of my parents and their troubles, but really, it was pretty much all school; they were battling and I was rather uncomfortable, but then I just channeled the parents thing as an advantage to get what I wanted. By that point, I realized those people (my parents) fought constantly but probably were never going to part if only because that would be a fucking pain in the ass. At this point, at their age, I think they’re set to grow old and moldy together. Anyway, if I remember rightly, they even patched up whatever spat they were having right in the middle of my little mission so I had to just pretend they were still at it. I figured most people can tell that someone is upset and to what degree, but not be able to really discern the reason why, so if I got frustrated that the outcome was not in my favor, I could display my unhappiness under the cover of feeling terrible that a divorce was happening. I’m a terrible liar, but unless you’re Sherlock Holmes or specifically paying attention to me at the right times, since I really was upset, I don’t think you would’ve been able to see that I was upset for a reason I wasn’t openly stating. By the end, I was crying over how much I’d mucked up my chances at setting the correct gears in motion and how all that hogwash had got me nothing, not family matters. I was only angry that people who somehow had gained the favor of the administration were getting what they desired yet I wasn’t; something was wrong with me, that I could not get Fortune to smile upon me. That was the unfairness to me and that’s what got to me. The slow wearing away came with the daily grind I lived through because the decisions of the people in charge did not budge.

That sounds manipulative, I guess, but really, the guilt I feel is minor. I was dishonest and threw away some dignity, but I wanted to try my hand at playing the system I hated. If the system has to be boneheadedly unfair, then I may have to act in turn and exploit its loopholes, and that is what happened.

Around the dénouement, one of my teachers notified my friends (and one teacher, at least) to be nice to me. My friends mentioned it at some point during lunch and I let out a tortured sob. I was crying about how ridiculous this whole thing had become. What had I gotten myself into? I still don’t know if any of them actually believed I was upset about my parents. I don’t even think I told them that part. They probably just thought I was torn up over school. They probably thought I was getting too worked up about something like that. At any rate, it was nice of them to group hug me even though I still can’t stand hugging.

So what exactly was it about the selection of teachers I got that sent me spiralling down a crooked path? I’m going to say mostly it was wanting the easy way (and getting good grades). That is terrible, I know, but I think to justify my intense dislike of (four out of six of) my instructors, I turned it into, "I’m not learning anything good from them." Really, those people were awful. One was a bipolar writing teacher and she gave out rather silly writing assignments and didn’t show me anything new so I just relied on whatever skills I already had to get through, two of them taught straight from the textbook and didn’t know anything outside of it and refused to explain the concepts, and the other one was so full of himself and lazy and needlessly unpleasant and had his own retinue of ass-kissers that I just wanted to eviscerate myself. I had actually been rather interested in those teachers’ subjects, but learning under them was like swimming upstream. My math teacher was also not exactly loveable, but I’d had him before and actually willingly signed up to take him so he is spared here (also, he wrote some of my college recommendations, including the one that’s got me here at Chicago now, so uh…there you go).

I’m honestly surprised that I seem to remember this stuff so well and that my rage is still so fresh and tender. It’s only been two years, but still. Like when I thought about those ass-kissers, I had this flood of memories and a wave of revulsion washed over. I had hoped that this whole thing would be a bulge in the line and that things would return to normal in my head after it, but I am about ready to say that I’m working under a new mental regime that is unfortunately rapidly descending into apathy and entropy.

I wonder if I would be the same person had I won. Would I have taken that as a sign that I could just run ragged with corruption?

For what it’s worth, I do think that this course of events was proper. I only don’t like that I can’t hear "the straw that broke the camel’s back" without thinking of that time.

Or that I wince a little when I think of certain parts of the instrumental version of Letter to Memphis.