Rampant Epenthesis

School shouldn’t make you feel bad. I know there’s joy to be felt in studying and working hard at something, to then be rewarded for that. I also know, however, that very infrequently do I feel passionate about something to study it in that way. Up until this point, I’ve relied heavily on my ability to just do without practice or commitment. Unfortunately, it’s not been serving me as faithfully as it used to since my college debut. The result of this is hair loss, stress, and extreme anxiety.

I’ve been taking on a lot of course work, only one is truly difficult for me at this point, but the quantity is still daunting. Unfortunately, it’s only one degree between freezing and not, as they say. My highest honors, I fear, might be thrown out the proverbial window. And that terrifies me. But things keep coming up, over and over. Tomorrow is my first day teaching German, and although I know they’re just eight years old, I’m afraid they too will be mocking my math talent, poor GPA, or latest, most recent failure.

Admitting that felt good; I needed that. I have a lot to do, but not all of it is bad. I find myself wanting to wake up at eight o’clock every morning for a class that I enjoy– and I think that is the significance I’ve been hoping for in my classes. The material is not easy, but as hooky as it sounds, I enjoy it. I’ve also just started a new piece, one with so much passion that the ending requires four combined into one grand staff. I find myself daily updating and reviewing the sources to two brand new JIT compilation engines, and I love it. I find myself overwhelmed with the possibility I have to create stories and imagine new relationships, all without even opening my word processor to write. I have more books than I have time for, and so many thoughts to think about.

But it’s all becoming quite overwhelming. Without the security and comfort of home, without sold things I trust, I’m losing it a little bit. I haven’t felt at home for a long time, and I don’t think I will anytime soon, either. All and all though, I’m a bit a head; the usual depression isn’t here quite yet. I feel the stress, though, and my back is straining. I feel like a friend to enjoy coffee with and talk about some of these deeper demons would be a welcome relief, but I haven’t heard from her in a long time. Anyone to talk to might just be enough, but also, of course, things would be a lot easier if I could just have one peaceful night of sleep.

Die Schrecklichste aller Schrecklichen Zeiten

“-und doch ist es so, dass alles, was wir heute schreiben und denken und tun, dass also alles, was uns politisch und intellektuell beschäftigt, ein Echo auf die schrecklichste aller schrecklichen Zeiten ist.”– Maxim Biller

I read this today and it struck me as true. Translated roughly: “and so is it, that everything, what we today write and think and do, and that also everything, what occupies us politically and intellectually, is an echo of the most frightening of frightening times.” I seem to be drawn to this idea, whether out of curiosity out or guilt, that we are preoccupied with the what terribly happens in our lives. This doesn’t mean that it defines our lives, but matters for just an hour or so, just every so often, and that anything might initiate this feeling, a brush of skin, notes of a song, or an innocent conversation. It does mean, however, that who we are and what we produce is intimately related to the these times. The way I feel about you now, so utterly confused, has a lot to do with what happened. I haven’t been able to write for days; I can’t really think of anything else to say, all I can do is sip my blueberry juice.

“Do you believe me, no?– You’re still listening”

Widmung

Du meine Seele, du mein Herz,
Du meine Wonn’, o du mein Schmerz,
Du meine Welt, in der ich lebe,
Mein Himmel du, darein ich schwebe,
O du mein Grab, in das hinab
Ich ewig meinen Kummer gab.

Du bist die Ruh, du bist der Frieden,
Du bist vom Himmel mir beschieden.
Daß du mich liebst, macht mich mir wert,
Dein Blick hat mich vor mir verklärt,
Du hebst mich liebend über mich,
Mein guter Geist, mein beßres ich!

Man Like Me

I want to take a moment to write about myself. I’m not doing this because I feel there is a particular lack of information about myself. I’m saying this, more than anything, because it’s easier, and so much safer. I think, there’s a small part of me that would like to read it too, because between failed pop quizes and fake friendships, all that strife of my college experience, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell who I am.

I like jazz, light jazz. I like easy-listening. I think time listening to music is best spent on something you can sing to, and even though I am not a talented singer, I find I’m happiest when I do. I have a range that spans nearly four octaves, and I’ve played the piano for a very long time. I play because I like to, and I couldn’t bear it if anyone assigned music to me for a grade or paycheck.

I like to eat, which is an odd development considering my childhood. I was notoriously picky eater, but now I’ll touch just about anything (except most mexican food), especially if it has a high price or requires fancy clothes. I like variety and hate eating the same thing, or even something from the same place, twice in a row. I like eating at all times of the day, but that’s a recent development, too.

I enjoy nice things. I’d rather have one really nice thing, than twenty mediocre things (I dislike numerals interspersed in text). I prefer stores that offer a limited selection, a selection which is offered to me in columns, and a selection I can quickly choose from and look my best in. I like to look nice, but it’s rare that I take the time to achieve that result.

I enjoy cars. I love cars. I like driving them, and I like cleaning them. I like shopping for them, and I like naming them as we drive by others. I price myself way out of my budget (but I do prefer nice things), and I’m going to do it again once I get what I want. I feel perfectly free and happy driving, and I love to share that with people who are important to me. I’ll share it with people who are really important to me at night.

My favorite time of day is the dead of night. I prefer nothing more than the wind at night. I think that the darkness invites adventure, and if I can have my way, I’ll be sleeping during the day and living at night. On the same idea, I like rain and snow in much the same way. I like sleep and the number eight. I love to whistle, and do so when I am nervous. I detest authority, but I like kids. I want kids of my own. I am interested in computer science and linguistics; I consider language to be the most pivotal and important achievement of mankind. If being Jodie Foster in the movie Contact were a major, that’s would I would be doing at university. I love to watch movies, especially dramas. I also enjoy plays, a lot.

My roommate is watching some stupid SciFi movie on Spike. You know it’s bad when it’s a SciFi original airing on Spike, it’s not a proud thing. By this, I mean that should know that I love science fiction. Oh– there, Owen Wilson just died. Star Trek in particular is perhaps the most defining aspect of my life, something to which I continually aspire and for which I secretly pine for. I enjoy all episodes in all series, but I grew up watching Voyager. Quote it or just mention it  and you will be my friend off that bat.

I don’t make friends easily. In fact, I am generally very mistrusting of most people, even people I have known for a long time. I find it’s easier to become attached to characters from tv shows and movies and books much before I’ll consider a personal relationship. That doesn’t mean I don’t value friendship, though. If you’re lucky enough to find me out, you’ll know nothing is more important to me. I am socially awkward, and I’m perpetually afraid people dislike me; I constantly analyze what is said, but also what isn’t said. I don’t believe in relationships and especially not monogamy; I believe in friendship. My feelings, though, range for people range from absolute loathing, to paternal nourishment, to deeply unadulterated friendship, to outright lust- pretty run-of-the-mill, I’d say. I like dashes, too. I don’t dislike myself, but I tend to like other people better. And I don’t think there’s any harm or shame in investing a good amount of love in anyone else.

I like this song, too. Continue reading “Man Like Me”