2005-05-25 - 10:49 a.m.
"I'd like to be good, or great, or even any other way, but the best I can get is okay." - Teen Heroes, "Misery"
One entry before the sun goes down.
Every semester, there's this rush of guilt. Goal for every new semester: I'll study hard, even when disinterested. I won't do the pre/post-exam puke/bawl.
I lie to myself.
My life's been built on daydreams, cynicism, and fantasies of aimless wandering. Think too much. Question too much. Start analyzing every aspect of your life, and wonder why you even bother with anything. And that's where I go wrong. Maybe if I could stop thinking and start doing, my life would mean something, b/c it doesn't right now.
What evoked this entry? B+ in that business seminar class. It's a class that I knew would destroy me, from the moment I saw the grading policy on the syllabus - only 65% from exam grades, and the rest from participation and presentations. It's almost like a fucking speech class. Problem: I'm shy, nervous, prone to anxiety attacks, and I have a minor speech impediment. "Breathe. Don't stutter. Take it slow." Get worked up over it, become delirious in your nervousness, and when it comes time to actually speak, stumble quickly through an onslaught of words. Fumble. Stumble. Blush. Shrink back in your desk. Pretend that tomorrow, nobody will remember how you fucked up and made a fool out of yourself once again. They can't focus on your ideas, your contributions, if you can't even get through two sentences without stuttering like an imbecile.
At least I know there's one A for sure, and the other can't be less than a B+, and will probably be at least an A-. The last grade? Up in the air.
It's sick that grades are almost a measure of my worth. Ever since first grade, I've always brought home good grades. My parents wouldn't be happy if I got all A's, but they'd always be disappointed when I didn't. Ridiculous. I'd think that I wasn't good enough, or worthy of being loved. I wasn't a pretty, popular kid, so I had to make up for it in other ways - piano, or school, or solving my sister's algebra problems for her when I was ten. In some ways, I still think that way about grades and school, and I can't help it, even when I know it's not right.
Don't worry. Maybe I didn't speak in tongues, but I'll write another entry soon, and it'll leave you confused and disturbed, as usual.
"Gun in my mouth, still I can't explain. I'm withdrawn, it'll never change. And I'll drown. I'll see you below. And I can't shut it out." - Only Crime, "R.J.R."
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