The Asymmetry of Expectations

It’s funny, that even if you’re better than perfect in one thing, less than perfect in another still means less than perfect. I scored better than perfect on two midterms in linguistics last week. In fact, one teacher commented in writing and to me personally after class, imploring me to continue to become a linguist. The sad fact of the matter, though, is that I couldn’t feel happy about this, I couldn’t feel pleased with my accomplishments. I instead continue to feel upset and angry about a completely different midterm I didn’t do as well on. 100/100 and 155/150 seems worthless when on the same table as a 67/100. Sometimes the lows are so low, that the good feels fucking cheap.

I know that I like being in Computer Science, but I also know that the program wasn’t designed for a person like me. I’m having a hard time explaining why the program bothers me, but I can also recognize that I really haven’t enough experience to truly judge it quite yet. On the other hand, I know where the money lies, and the expectations people have of me. I’m positive I love being in linguistics, and I also doing very well. Despite this, I fear the rejection of those “holier than thou”, who deem the field inferior to “hard science”. I’m having a very hard time reconciling my concerns.

I don’t know what to do. I feel panicky and anxious all of the time, which I can only assume to be a natural part of growing up and moving along into an adult life. I’m scratching at the sides of a dark well I don’t think I’ll be able to climb out of, even though I realize that in the end I’ll get out. I feel like a starship taking hit after hit, shields failing and the hull buckling, and yet continuing forward just the same. More than anything, I’d just like to not be afraid anymore, and remember that things do work out in the end. I’m listening to Christmas music early right now, because it makes me feel calm and purposeful.

A Brighter Day Will Come

A certain sadness brings to me a measure of creativity. It sounds a little masochistic, and while in fact I sometimes do seek it out, I haven’t been this way in a while. I’ve been physically healthy for more than a two years now, I’ve stayed far from romance, and I’ve managed to squeak by in school, keeping both my grades and sanity intact. I do honestly believe that this has affected my ability to express myself.

I am of the opinion that many people, but especially myself have no true, authentic self. Instead, I quickly find the most appropriate façade for whomever I am interacting with, and follow through. This, on more than one occasion, has lead many to believe that I have no personality, and I fear this diagnosis correct. In the past, though, this has allowed me an exquisite aptitude and sensitivity to my own feelings as they’re constantly shuffled into new bodies as well as the feelings and thoughts of others while trying to become something more pleasing. If I don’t know you, I won’t know what shape to assume, and this leaves me in a very awkward, shy position. This lack of identity explains my actions fairly well.

I’m the obsessive, ruminating kind of guy. Often I find myself in spirals of thought, wondering why I am and about my relation to the world, and then finding myself starting it all over again. When someone says something rude to me, I don’t feel angry, accept it, and then let it go. No, I feel angry, ask why, and when no one answers my thoughts, I feel angrier. It applies to first dates, too. In a very selfish way, I cannot tell if I like a person when I meet them, simply because I’m too worried thinking about whether they like me or not. One of the things I do is think about something over and over and over again, and that’s when I start writing.

And to put it bluntly, I’ve been pretty happy lately, though I’ve paid a high price for that freedom. I haven’t been able to explain, adapt to, or feel anything with and for anyone for months. On the other hand, before, I also paid a very high price: you can be too sensitive to live in this world. I’ve been called pessimistic before, but I really do see a positive future for us. I’m really terrified though, that I won’t be able to talk about before it comes to take me away. 

Did you know that many of the waitresses in Las Vegas are hired as models instead of waitresses, so that they can be hired and dismissed on the grounds of beauty?

Busily Writing

If I could remember what feelings were, I might be calling them hurt right now.

I’ve not had much time to say anything lately; with tests, work, kids, and my new schedule- ya know, I just give up at night. Last night I seriously felt too tired to fall asleep or move my head, and the second part of that is much more serious than it seems.

I was doing my homework, and this caught my eye. I appreciate its meaning a lot more than I thought I would ever appreciate something from this new class of mine.

Verlassen is nicht weggehen für immer. Sich treenen heißt nicht alleine bleiben. Nicht Heute, nicht für uns. Sind die Herzen verbunden, verhindern die Kilometer nicht den Fluss der Gefühl. Und ein geistiges Band unterstützt uns auf unseren verschiedenen Wegen. -Oguntoye, “Was ich dir schon immer sagen wollte”

I’ll do my best to translate it later, and maybe write something of my own. Until then, you should know I’d love to just talk with you instead.