I keep trying to think of things to become upset about, you know, to feel young, to arouse some emotion. But it’s getting pretty tough to do that. When one opens up the newspaper and reads “Death Tolls in Asia reach 60,000, more expected to die from disease,” everything becomes so small, so insignificant. Put simply, tragic events like these really tear me apart inside. Then with guilty tears rolling down my cheeks, I struggle to tell myself what I should really be feeling.
It’s complex. You read the story about the woman who lost her five children and her husband when the tsunami hit. She lost her 8 month year old baby when the water pulled them apart. She can’t find any of them except for her 3 year old son, whom she found dead in the street.
Those are cruel words to read, and intense thoughts come with them.
Earth, for most of its inhabitants, is not that great. And as an American-human what am I supposed to feel?
Guilt comes to mind first. Guilt for complaining about oh-so-evil traffic that one day, guilt for becoming depressed over that wonderful ex-girlfriend, guilt for not cherishing every moment that I’m alive. Guilt for being able to write these thoughts on livejournal, in my warm townhome, on this leather couch, with this $1500 laptop, with the use of all four of my limbs, breathing clean air, with two wonderful parents still giving me increasingly wise bits of wisdom.
Am I supposed to feel blessed? Am I supposed to donate my money? Who needs it the most? Sudan? Iraq? Asians? Homeless? Orphans? Who deserves the money that I earned in a non-back breaking way? I think I’m convincing myself that I am too young to understand this at this point in time.
It’s difficult to be complacent when you realize how much much much better off you are than the next guy. We’re supposed to be ashamed that we have what we have, but be glad that it’s not us. Far from a beautiful life, no?
Is it time to continue to angst, to mind-wrestle this until I’m sick? Or do I forget about this and watch DVDs until I fall asleep?
– Connecting more neurons in my head seems to be my main focus in life. Tomorrow, when I have access to books, I will begin my reading a book a day for every day of break quest. Taking suggestions, try to keep them under 600 pages.
– I need new jeans. The extremely comfortable ones that I’m wearing, have a hole on the knee from 6 Molar Sulfuric Acid from perhaps February or March, and the area around the feet on the legs (cuffs?) are ceasing to exist. Being a pedestrian biochemistry student is bad for your jeans, and even worse for your sanity.
It was the warmest December 23rd that I can remember. Makes me want to drive a hybrid around, and cut back on my electricity use. Where’s my bike?
Some mornings, if timed correctly, I talk to the housekeeper on my floor. I try to speak to him in Spanish, the key word being try. He’s nice and speaks deliberately, slowly, patiently, whenever I speak my mangled latin-sounding sounds at him. I’m terrible at thinking on my feet, which I think is the main problem.
Even in English, I’m always thinking of things to say after I have made my comment that was jumbled together with a few nouns and ideally a few connecting words, or thinking about how just a flip of the words would have made the whole thought much more eloquent. I cringe. I wonder how I sound to others.
I blame me because I’m speaking less and less. I verbalize fewer times than the average bear. Instead of words coming naturally, I have to think about what to say. Maybe this is a sign of eminence and soon my brain is going to comprehend the universe, and I will explain humanity.
The problem intensifies with Spanish, and I feel strangled by my lacking knowledge of unawkward, normal phrases, but I keep at it. Maybe by the end of the next semester, I will be able to string together more than three sentences at a time in conversation. Pedro will be able to speed up. Maybe he’ll even be able to rapidly yell at me, which in my eyes(ears) is the pinnacle of achievement. Eventually, when I’m old and overripe, I will yell at my children in Spanish, my grandchildren in English, and my trophy wife I won’t yell at. She’ll have that irresistible British accent. Okay that’s it estoy estudiando.
It’s 3:14 am and I have an exam in 4 hours 46 minutes, and another in 7 hours 46 minutes. Sounds…scary when it’s put that way, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m writing to you guys.
I cannot get to sleep. I Haven’t had insomnia in 3 years, and this is the day that my body decides to try it out again. Well it’s making me sad, because I really like sleep.
The sadness is buffered by other emotions, perhaps similar though, that’s good. But it’s bad because it’s keeping me fucking awake.
I’m one-irritated that I’m awake.
Three-pre-remorseful, the trembling hand kind, about my report card that I’m going to see if I do not go to bed within the next 10 minutes.
Four-distressed by the failure of my attempts to get to sleep (reading, eating screaming/crying into a pillow, pacing like a crumudgonly affluent)
Five-i’m curious to know how the hell i got myself into making a list for the second entry in a row. I think about aesthetics like that.
Six-worried about gifts for people, should I get gifts for my professors, co-workers, students that I talk to daily? Ex-girlfriends that I talk to triweekly? Cute girl(s) down the hall? That issue is too complex and it would be April before I could make a decision.
Seven- what is the meaning of life? Is the meaning of life the University of Maryland, College Park? My professor says yes, my other professor says no, my mother says no, my younger friends say, “wtf?!! pwnt in World of Warcraft!!!!” my contemporaries say, “shit dude, it’s fuckin’ like…fuck, oh my god… wait… it’s wait… is this…shit, wha…yo so i don’t even remember last night man…crazy!!111!!1”
I say, it depends on the hour. At 3:43 am on the morning before exams, the meaning of life is to get to sleep so that my life will have meaning(sic) aka being able to work professionally, having obtained a B.S. in Biochemistry from UMD in 2007, and an M.D. from blank in 2011.
Okay that wasn’t an emotion sorry, but it was a slice of my brain at that point. Really, I’m sorry.
The moral of this story is, do not have insomnia, or your mental well-being will pay. Sorry everyone. Lucidity shall return in the near future.
I have forsaken the other, unmentionable weblog. Why?
My decision was influenced by the following:
90% I like titles on my entries.
5% New Community
5% Peer Pressure
When the chance came (a study break) I went for it, and here I am. The hardest part was choosing a username.
That does it for the usual “I succumbed to the weblog machine, I know that it’s terrible, I apologize to my family and my future employers, and most importantly my future self for putting out this information” first post. I’ll entertain you sometime in the near future.