backyard crowing
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no one knows what goes on inside this head
I just checked the Astronomy website, I made a 58 on my test. I skipped three classes today to sleep so I would be more alert for the test, and I went to all three study sessions this week. I am shocked and too angry to care much at the moment.
It is every morning now I wake up astounded and terrified. This place is not natural for me, it's so crowded and boisterous and awkward. I'm going to stay here, though, if it's the last thing I do. I just hope my literature test grade is better. God, I hope that test is better. An 80 at least I hope.
Why am I here anyway? Does it really matter what I do here on Earth?
Why are people so different? Why do some people hate being alone, but others thrive on their solitude? Is it better to reflect, or to do? My immediate answer is that doing is better, as sitting ducks thinking about the past aren't getting accomplishing anything, they're just reminiscing. But I think I'm a better rememberer, which I suppose is worse. I don't think I want kids, I'd probably screw them up something awful, forever focused on my little dreamland of the moment like the mom in Thumbsucker. perhaps i am still just a child.
Last night I was studying in the study room down the hall and eavesdropped on a couple of gay guys chatting. They sounded like such nice people, I wish I knew them and hung out with them. The one talked about how he was on the edge of failing Rhetoric, yet he loved writing and knew he was good at it. He said that it was the only class he was having trouble in, and that he didn't have a job. He said he figured out the reason he procrastinated, that it was because he was a perfectionist and wanted everything "just so" in order to do it. His friend (or more than a friend, I don't know), told him he had no sympathy for him because he was jobless. He talked about how his parents were divorced and his father made $70K per year and he was going to hit him up. He has a job, apparently, and is supporting himself right now. Listening to their conversations made me smile, and they talked about stuff that I'm going through right now, they talked about real and personal issues. I don't feel like I have anybody to talk with about that stuff. They knew each other so well it seemed like, and were so open with each other about shit in their life--and it wasn't even a very serious conversation! They were just chewing the fat about stuff in their life, important stuff that I want to be able to talk about with other people, too. Maybe I'm afraid of people, so afraid that I push them away because I'm afraid they'll hurt me if they get to know me too well. Maybe I have huge trust issues. Confidence issues, too, I think, because if I had confidence I would go into situations knowing that hurt or not, I would get through whatever there was to be tackled. Then I wouldn't care so much what people thought of me, I would just "keep on keepin' on", so to speak.
I wonder if they'll hate me when I get back home. I'm so tired.
I don't think I have enough energy to be hated.
Cristy is "super competitive", she says. She has said that several times, last night was the last time I heard it out of her mouth. Maybe she feels bad that she's getting these good grades and wants to put a spin on it so that I don't feel as bad or something. I don't know, just a thought. It might be something I would do. What did I do at UTSA? I've never been competitive, but I've always had high goals for myself--goals that didn't involve how other people perform in comparison to me. I mean, I suppose it's fun to be the best at something, but that's not what's important. I just want to be happy, I guess. I'm no different than anybody else in that sense.
And yet I'm thinking about seeing a french comedy at dobie tonight, but I don't particularly want to see anything that will boost my spirits. I want to see something brooding tonight, something sad and tired, like myself this afternoon. I don't want to smile today.
Maybe instead of going to the movie tonight I'll download six sad songs--that would be the same cost of the movie and I might get more out of them.
poem i just wrote:
early morning
2 pm
muffled brooding music
warm underneath black blankets
eyelids falling
defeat engulfs her
ever taxing
crashing down
die
2:17 p.m. - 2005-11-11
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