Welll... I'd put up my poem that I wrote in algebra today, but I'm sick of it by now, so I don't want to type it up. :-D (brief fake grin)
g [2/28/2003 09:05:00 PM]
Oh -- A thought: today I realized that I am sick of being so arrogant, of acting like I'm better than everyone else. That's not how I feel, you know. But goddammit it's hard to be humble! I mean, I think I've always been a bit stuck up, so I don't know how not to be. The trouble is, I'm not going to be dishonest, and if I downplay my grades people seem to feel worse because if my grades are bad, what are theirs? So what can I say? I try to be honest, you know... I listen, I enjoy learning. People look at me like I'm a freak. Which I am ... but everyone doesn't have to know it! The trouble is, what is "smart" anyway? There are different kinds of smart; some people know a lot of stuff, some people comprehend theories, some people learn quickly, some people are good at expressing themselves.... I certainly don't fit into at least two of those categories. But I consider myself intelligent. Is that a crime? I don't consider myself "smart," and obviously not "wise" or "genius." Why not "smart"? I think of the word smart to mean people who know a lot ... I don't. I think of the word smart to mean the people who get good grades without trying... which I do in some classes but certainly not all. Then again, an intelligent person doesn't just think, they do ... which I don't. An intelligent person carries out their ideas, but I never seem able to follow through. So what is my problem? I don't know. I don't think I'm stupid, though. Naive perhaps, as people painfully point out constantly. Though I'm sure they're just about as naive as I am ... and at least I know it. See, there I go again, I'm acting like I'm better than other people because I know I'm ignorant. I'm not ... what I mean is ... I don't know what I mean. The trouble is, my arrogance is what keeps my self esteem ok, which it often isn't. And that was an entire paragraph of - basically nothing!
g [2/28/2003 08:48:00 PM]
Every girl loves her bowl of fudge. Not a literally true statement, but it applies to me. Fudge is good - rich, chocolate, creamy fudge. Savoring every tiny moment of it. I love my bowl of fudge.
No I don't actually have fudge that I am eating right now, but it would be nice if I did, wouldn't it?
LOL I'm such a crazy gal...
g [2/28/2003 08:32:00 PM]
Thesis: Finny is not innocence, or even innocent. Finny is the most disillusioned of them all, he only appears innocent.
The hint is in the scene where Finny tells Gene that he had tried and tried and tried to enlist. On the outside, Finny is innocent, believing that there is no war, believing that everyone wins by playing sports (btw mr mckee is wrong, the author meant that Finny didn't realize that the other person lost, I think, not that he thought that playing itself was winning; he had simply never experienced losing). But this is only an illusion. Phineas knows that there is a war, and wants desperately to be a part of it. Phineas knows that Gene knocked him out of the tree. He doesn't want to admit it even to himself but he knows. Finny understands Leper having gone crazy. Deep down, I think, perhaps, that Finny is solemn, depressed even. He tries to do everything the best he knows how, to be honest, friendly. But Finny is not blind. He knows that not everyone follows his "commandments." He tries to set an example, but no one follows it. Finny is not blind. He knows ... understands more than the other characters. And it is knowledge that disillusions. Finny tries to make the world perfect, on the surface, but underneath that is the knowledge that it isn't. Which is why he has to try to make it so. If I still had my copy of the book, I would find telling quotes to back me up, and make a paper of it. I'm not saying this is what the author intended, although if Mr Mckee thought it was, then of course, it would be - no matter how irrational. I'm probably just making it completely up ... so I can relate better to Finny? Not saying I'm just like Finny, but at certain parts of the book, I'm sure everyone relates to him.
g [2/27/2003 08:12:00 PM]
Um.
g [2/27/2003 07:35:00 PM]
Have you ever played minesweeper and relished blowing yourself up?
g [2/26/2003 07:44:00 PM]
I have a few spare moments, so I am going to take this time to complain. If you would rather not hear me complain, I suggest you stop reading Now. Anyway, my complaints start with the fact that I had to get up bright and early both days of the weekend - Saturday for my painting class, and Sunday for Mock Trial. I am tired. I have managed to complete my biology lab ... I think that's all. I still have to study for a test in a class I lost my binder for, re-re-write my opening statement so it's two minutes shorter, write a few paragraphs each on the Cuban Missile crisis and MLK, obtain some sort of business-suit-type thing for the mock trial competition Tuesday, write a paper for Squeak's and my presentation (who knows when we have to go) ... oh yeah and I'm babysitting my brothers, it seems, in like twenty minutes. Wow, that's all! Unfortunately, I'm just not that talented. Oh, speaking of which, I scored a 45 on the Goldberg scale. I've lost my confidence, which means I've lost everything. At mock trial today, Mr Rosenberg acknowleged how well everyone else spoke, but only commented that I was way over the time limit. Because I think I suck, I have no confidence, so I speak less well. I think I suck. I don't think that I can do anything right, ever. I think I am a drag to everyone around me - even though you may not realize it. Essentially - what it all boils down to is - I hate myself. I feel as though life is pointless, and that I can never accomplish anything no matter how hard I try, and no matter how hard I try, I can never understand anything either. My life and my room are a mess. I hung out with my friend and some of her friends last night, and it was a complete waste of the evening; I was invisible to most people, was horrible at basketball, and felt like a slut because everyone else was BAFishly dressed down. I had to wear my jacket zipped up because I was wearing a tank top. A new one that looks really good on me, and I only wore it so my friend could see what I'd told her about online that afternoon. I had to rewrite my opening statement, which I did before going out, but apparently I added in a lot more than I took out - and I didn't have a chance to memorize it, which made me look bad compared to, say, Matt Leskowitz, Mike Thornton, Jacob Schuman, and everyone else who gave an opening or closing statement. There is someone in each thing I do well who can do it better than I can. So why should I even do it? I don't want to move to Africa, I want to die. I didn't realize that until as I was writing it ... but I do.
Oh, Squeak, email me back please, I'll write the paper since you made the slideshow ... please email me soooooon!
g [2/23/2003 03:39:00 PM]
attempting to beautify my blog. Not working. Too lazy to make it work. Lunchtime.
g [2/22/2003 01:08:00 PM]
I come back from my art class, where I'd learned about layering paint. I step out of the van and into the rain, canvas and paints clutched in a trash bag and a cloth one respectively. I walk down the path I had nicely carved out of the snow about a week ago. It is now a stagnant stream of water, about three inches deep. I decide to go around it, and carefully place my foot in the solid-looking snow. It is slush, and soaks my shoe. I try again with the same result. I give up and trudge hurriedly through the freezing stream itself. My sock and foot are soaked through now. My pants are wet halfway up my shin. I'm shivering. But it was worth it. I learned a lot in art class today.
P.S. During the class itself, I got paint on my pants and on my sweatjacket, which is bad because recently I've gotten into the habit of chewing on that sleeve. I hope it washes out. ! : )
g [2/22/2003 12:49:00 PM]
This is what is called "a bad mood." I hate life, the human race, and myself. No, I wouldn't call it hate ... but I feel a revulsion for them. Why? I don't know. I just do.
g [2/20/2003 03:07:00 PM]
No: the truth is, I love my mom and dad, despite their flaws. Isn't that sweet of me? Yeah.... So, today, I started wondering who I am again. I don't know, because I don't know what the world is, what people are. Only this time I started wondering if I ought to be president. Because no one agrees with my ideas, or hardly anyone anyway. I don't know if I even agree with my ideas (lnol). Maybe I should just write a book and hope that someday someone will read it and like it. Not a novel, I mean a book explaining my theories.
Who really knows what will happen? But I don't want to think about not being president; I have to be optimistic or else (lnol) what I think will come true. Sigh, I have to give myself the benefit of the doubt, that some day I'll figure some of it out, figure out what I need to do to make that significant positive impact, and I just have to learn how to express myself, so that when I do understand myself, so will my public. The world. I don't know.
I'm very repetitive, aren't I? Not within the post necessarily, but I've probably said the exact same thing twenty times already.
Well I had a pretty good day, for the most part. Except that I was really tired. ...You know what, though? I don't know what Doug sees in me, I really don't. (lnol) Oh well.
And even though I'm really tired, I don't feel like I could get to sleep just now. Well, I'll try.
g [2/19/2003 10:35:00 PM]
why aren't my comments working?
g [2/15/2003 11:36:00 PM]
I feel mean now. I'm a mean person. I don't intend to be, but I am. I don't want to have to justify myself; why can't I just be nice? Why am I mean? Why am I so sarcastic and mean?
I HATE instant messenger. It's so damned impersonal. So freaking impersonal. I was tired and talking to four people at once, bad things were doomed to happen. Oh, for heavens sake, stop overreacting, Genai. He said it was ok. (I'm sorry!!) I need to be slapped. My sister wouldn't ... isn't that what sisters are for, though? Aaack, I'm in a bad mood. It's bedtime, maybe that's part of it. I want --- ! sigh. goodnight.
g [2/15/2003 11:30:00 PM]
I found my watch. : )
g [2/15/2003 12:56:00 PM]
I've really felt like writing lately, and just now I decided hey I have some time, so I sat down and wrote a hypothetical situation in which I had become anorexic. It's not interesting, nor is it well written, but I felt like writing it and so I'm glad I did. Hey, it took my mind off my parents' poorly masked insults of my still-life painting. "It looks inexperienced,which is what you are" says my mom, as though that will make me feel better. "that's why you're taking the class." Gee thanks.
g [2/15/2003 12:36:00 PM]
I'm really happy, and really depressed. Life is weird like that.
g [2/13/2003 06:42:00 PM]
But the thing is, conscience is not inborn, it is created by the society around a person, so how can it be right or wrong; people are not gods, they don't really know what is right and what is wrong, so they make it up. And you can't fairly judge someone by such arbitrary standards. A person is a product of their environment - totally, I am beginning to believe, and not a product of themselves. Someone is who s/he is because of their genes and the genes of those around me, and not because of their soul or their "personality." Our choices in life are choices, but the decision that we are going to make is inevitable based on how we have lived thus far, which was inevitably going to happen the way it did, because of everything that did and didn't happen previous to that.
There is no right and wrong because everyone believes they are doing right, or they wouldn't do it. Even if they believe they are right in doing what they believe is wrong, for instance they kill someone because they perceive it as evil, they still have their reasons... which they inevitably had due to circumstances beyond their control. So, unless some God up there randomly decides for people whether they are going to be good or evil, and decides what is good or evil, then there is no such thing. Because people have to know what is right and wrong to do either right or wrong, but we don't know. We just think we know.
g [2/11/2003 09:38:00 PM]
I have turned so cynical. You should hear me; I don't believe that there is a difference between good and bad anymore. But still I do what I was taught is right, just in case I am wrong and there is such a thing. Just in case I'm wrong, I don't kill myself. Isn't that depressing; I can choose from being utterly wrong, or death. No, I can't choose; I'll die eventually, and I don't get to choose whether I am wrong or not.
I add a fourth book to the elite of my list, a depressing book that was written almost too well, containing lots of love and joy that is hard to find, in retrospect, through the thick coating of corruption and poverty and death. It is a book about India in 1975, an overcrowded country trying to be beautiful again but failing miserably. It is called A Fine Balance.
I am not really alive just now, in case you haven't noticed; I am simply waiting until I have figured things out, at which point I will wake myself and live again. Right now, I am a restless mind inside a mindless body, the two completely unrelated. I tell the body to yell and scream and throw a tantrum; I fight major wars thousand times over, but the body sits silently, slouching camly as though nothing is happening. Sometimes I control it a little, of course, I can make it talk sometimes, or write. But usually we are two separate entities, and will be until the world has been sorted out in my head. I am afraid that may never happen. What then? I suppose I will die having lived a fruitless life, or perhaps the body will have lived a fruitful life despite the fruitlessness of my thoughts, of Me. That's probably what will happen; I will continue doing "good" just in case there is such a thing, never knowing if there is or not, until finally I die, perhaps praised for the wonderful things I did. And only I will know that I never knew.
g [2/10/2003 08:55:00 PM]