Just a quick update telling the world that it is not even October and I have already written 14 out of 18 of my college application supplements. Plus my Common App essay. And one of my teachers already submitted her recommendation. I am on top of it.
I AM SO ON TOP OF IT
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Put self on line
Sometimes it's okay to sit on the chair by the window and read, but sometimes you have to be bold. Put yourself on the line. It used to be terrifying to the point of sadness-anxiety but now it gives me kind of a rush and a boost of I'm-the-baddest-bitch confidence.
In the past 24 hours I have:
1) made polite conversation with several inebriated college students
2) danced in the same room as aforementioned inebriated college students and was not super self-conscious and actually enjoyed the physical act of dancing
3) given my number to a random kid's brother because we're the same age and live in the same state and I wanted to be his friend
4) talked to a past girlfriend for the first time in a while
(A note on #4: I HATE the word "ex," it's so repulsive to me. Like, what is that word. Don't say it. It's so dismissive and possessive at the same time. Your ex? The fuck does that mean? They belong to you? But you're also stressing that they DON'T belong to you? So what the heck are you trying to say here???)
Put self on line: CHECK
Wrote several college supplement essays: CHECK
Stressed out a little bit about a lot of things: CHECK
Being bold/etc is a complex psychological exercise because it builds your confidence by making you feel proud of yourself but it also puts you on edge because REACTIONS OF OTHER PEOPLE TO YOUR ACTIONS. NEWTONIAN SHIT.
Ah, life. How you baffle me.
I should listen to more radio podcasts. They are so interesting. (I'm talking to you, Radiolab.)
In the past 24 hours I have:
1) made polite conversation with several inebriated college students
2) danced in the same room as aforementioned inebriated college students and was not super self-conscious and actually enjoyed the physical act of dancing
3) given my number to a random kid's brother because we're the same age and live in the same state and I wanted to be his friend
4) talked to a past girlfriend for the first time in a while
(A note on #4: I HATE the word "ex," it's so repulsive to me. Like, what is that word. Don't say it. It's so dismissive and possessive at the same time. Your ex? The fuck does that mean? They belong to you? But you're also stressing that they DON'T belong to you? So what the heck are you trying to say here???)
Put self on line: CHECK
Wrote several college supplement essays: CHECK
Stressed out a little bit about a lot of things: CHECK
Being bold/etc is a complex psychological exercise because it builds your confidence by making you feel proud of yourself but it also puts you on edge because REACTIONS OF OTHER PEOPLE TO YOUR ACTIONS. NEWTONIAN SHIT.
Ah, life. How you baffle me.
I should listen to more radio podcasts. They are so interesting. (I'm talking to you, Radiolab.)
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Anniversaries
Repetition. It's not how memories are made, but how they're kept. The anniversaries remembered recently:
August 27th
September 26th
...and then there are some that have to be remembered every month, not because you want to remember them, but because you can't help it.
April 17th
May 17th
June 17th
July 17th
August 17th
September 17th
A year ago from yesterday (September 26th), I was admitted into the ER as a psych patient. I had welts from failed cuts on my wrists, and the paper bracelet they put on my wrist stung as it chafed my raw skin.
Someday I'll publish the journal entries I wrote during my subsequent 4 day ER stay, 10 day inpatient stay, and 8 day outpatient stay. I feel as though I should re-read the entries to acknowledge how far I've come in that year, but part of me knows that's not the right decision. Because when thoughts are repeated, the mind goes back to where it was the first time those thoughts existed--not completely, but it's transported momentarily. Yet however brief the visit is, that flashback can be dangerous. If revisited too soon, the cuts may not have healed and the picked-off scab will just bleed again. Obviously not as much as the first time around, when the knees fell to the ground and got scraped up on the asphalt. But blood is blood.
Every month is a new triumph. I've made it this far, when a year ago I barely made it out alive. My most recent birthday was celebrated as a day of congratulations to me for making it through the year. I've decided lately that every morning I want to thank the universe that I'm being given another chance to have a new/better/different/etc experience than the one i had the day before. And of course I want to thank it for being able-bodied and relatively able-minded, and not in poverty, and not ill or in poor health, and not in prison or a large public high school. To all those things I'd raise a glass, a glass of water to that, because alcoholic beverages are an anniversary unto themselves, a remembrance of 17s and 17ths. Alack, a story for another night.
August 27th
September 26th
...and then there are some that have to be remembered every month, not because you want to remember them, but because you can't help it.
April 17th
May 17th
June 17th
July 17th
August 17th
September 17th
A year ago from yesterday (September 26th), I was admitted into the ER as a psych patient. I had welts from failed cuts on my wrists, and the paper bracelet they put on my wrist stung as it chafed my raw skin.
Someday I'll publish the journal entries I wrote during my subsequent 4 day ER stay, 10 day inpatient stay, and 8 day outpatient stay. I feel as though I should re-read the entries to acknowledge how far I've come in that year, but part of me knows that's not the right decision. Because when thoughts are repeated, the mind goes back to where it was the first time those thoughts existed--not completely, but it's transported momentarily. Yet however brief the visit is, that flashback can be dangerous. If revisited too soon, the cuts may not have healed and the picked-off scab will just bleed again. Obviously not as much as the first time around, when the knees fell to the ground and got scraped up on the asphalt. But blood is blood.
Every month is a new triumph. I've made it this far, when a year ago I barely made it out alive. My most recent birthday was celebrated as a day of congratulations to me for making it through the year. I've decided lately that every morning I want to thank the universe that I'm being given another chance to have a new/better/different/etc experience than the one i had the day before. And of course I want to thank it for being able-bodied and relatively able-minded, and not in poverty, and not ill or in poor health, and not in prison or a large public high school. To all those things I'd raise a glass, a glass of water to that, because alcoholic beverages are an anniversary unto themselves, a remembrance of 17s and 17ths. Alack, a story for another night.
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