 |
||
Monday, Sept. 15, 2003 - 11:33 p.m. |
||
|
Been one week exactly since I got to Seattle.
Been thinking about starting new journal and ending this one, new one discussing life here. Suppose all this stems from a need for some sort of symbolic change to mirror the concrete ones. My shoulder hurts, I hate my chair. I hate my chair. I hate my chair. I hate my chair. I want a chair that's really high. Since all I do at my desk is type, all that matters is the typing comfort. With low chairs and high desks (most desks are too high, in my opinion, can't get a low desk, so need high chair), my shoulders have to hunch up to reach the keyboard, so they tense up. It's extremely uncomfortable. I hate my chair. Been putting all sorts of padding on it. That just makes the chair more uncomfortable. I hate how short I am, sometimes. The reason I've not been writing very much lately is because a) I suddenly got self-conscious a few months ago, and b) I feel like the sort of random, chatty topics I write about in here isn't going to make me a superstar, and c) I suddenly got extremely shallow a few months ago, and so I WANT to be a superstar, I worry about fame and popularity and readers for my journal more than I did before. *looks at self in disgust* I'm a monster. But a prettier, slightly-slightly-slightly more in shape monster, with nicer skin and teeth. I even considered exchanging my trademark spectacles for--gasp!--contact lenses. Still not sure if I'm gonna do it, though. But even the THOUGHT of considering this was blasphemy a year or two ago. I should call my new online journal "The Less Ugly Monster." What the hell is my problem? The start of grad school, or grad school at all, isn't the time for this, I think. I think I need the old me now more than I did before. After all, college is for screwing around. High school isn't. Grad school isn't. College is. I'm damned tired. This entry is making me unhappy because it's that incoherent rambling sort, and because I'm so self-conscious now that I worry about this incoherent rambling lowering my readership and turning people off. I'm tired because I'm trying to fix my sleep/body clock--I've been waking up way too late, so I set my alarm for 8 am today. Which means I got about six, six and a half, hours of sleep. Which would have been pretty good before, except I got used to sleeping as many hours as I actually needed during the past year because Aditya would make me go to bed and wake up at proper hours. Do I miss him? Hm . . . yeah, I guess I sort of do. I don't know if I miss the arguments and fights, yelling and tears, but maybe I miss that too. Always been one for melodrama, hah. But as my roommate and I haven't met anyone in Seattle yet (we've just been sitting around the apartment, not sure what to do with ourselves), it's pretty lonely and perhaps that makes it easier to miss people. Then again, I like being alone, so I don't know. Actually, I don't really miss anyone in particular, because over the past year, I got used to not really seeing anyone but Aditya, so I'm already past the missing people stage--I've already been missing them for half a year. This fixing of body-clock thing is a bad idea, I get sick if I don't get enough sleep. Crap. Please don't get sick again, please don't get sick again. I got sick the day before I left Hawaii, was super sick the first days we spent in Oregon, and now it's sort of dying down but I still have a cough. The standard adjectives I use to describe myself no longer apply. I think, or rather, I thought, that I am: ambitious, competitive, intelligent, loyal, passionate, creative. These were the sort of standard adjectives that came to mind when people said, "describe yourself in X adjectives." But now, the adjectives that come to mind are: sleepy, lazy, apathetic, idiotic, shallow. And cries-a-lot. Ick. The cost of buying a new, higher chair would easily be worth it compared to the cost of a chiropractor or back surgery if I sit in this DAMNED CHAIR for another second. AAAUUUUGGGHHHH!!!! I hate being short. I hate people making short chairs. Royal Sandra Decree: from now on, all chairs must be high and fit Sandra. If they do not fit you and this bothers you, we'll just lop off a few inches--you get to pick if you want it taken off your legs or your head. It doesn't matter that I am however I am now. All that matters is that I'm working toward who I wanna be. This is what bothers me most. I don't know who I want to be anymore. I hate this. I'm not passionate about anything. I hate people who are not passionate about anything. Went out with an old friend recently. He seems to have no ambition about anything anymore. Nothing he's totally into, nothing he wants badly, no desire to fly to the stars and succeed. And it disgusted me. It's always disgusted me, whenever anyone's like that. And now I'm like that too. Or rather, no. I have some desire to succeed, I just don't know at what. It's like I just have some random amounts of passion, bottled up, or swimming around in my system, but nothing to direct it towards. I would be excited about living on my own, except I'm not living on my own. I. . . I feel like I hate my parents. I won't say that I do, because I'll feel guilty about saying it. But I'll say that I feel like I do. They took away the joy of moving out and finally being independent from me. Dai dai gave me lots of money, and mom came with me and bought everything for me and put her name on my bank account and whatever the hell else. I don't mind that they call all the time. That's fine. But I feel like I haven't moved out, because half my apartment is stuff mom bought for me. I feel like I'm not living at home, but I'm still living with my parents. So that took all the fun out of being on my own, because I'm not god damned on my own. It's my own fault. And besides which, I should be grateful to my mom for doing all this for me, because if not for her, I'd have had to do it all for myself, and that would have been . . . difficult. Yes, it's an understatement. I hate myself. I hate this. So I should be grateful. I have nice stuff in my room and didn't have to rack up credit card debt. But I'm not. I'm just angry. So what, you would rather have nothing, or be in debt, or whatever, and be "indepedent" and have mom pissed at you, than have all this nice stuff? I'm an idiot. I don't know which I'd rather have. But I do know that the grass is greener, which is why I'm unhappy with things now. But maybe, if I were on the other side of the hill, I really WOULD be happier. It's quite possible. I don't know. So anyway, that's why I'm not having fun living on my own, and not enjoying it. Because I don't feel like I really moved out on my own. Besides which, having roommate conflicts. Not between us, but internal to me. Not sure how to treat this apartmentmate person. Never had one before. I had assumed they'd be someone you just live with and, you know, run into in the kitchen or something. An acquaintance, casual friend at most. But we often eat dinner together, which is unnerving for me, especially because he actually sets the table--knife and spoon on one side, fork on the other, and a napkin. A paper napkin that he actually puts in his lap! It makes me really nervous, and hence makes me break out into fits of nervous laughter, which no doubt makes him think I'm either really off my rocker, or extremely immature, or both. And often, he says goodnight and stuff when he goes to bed, or tells me where he's going when he's going out, which is bizarre because I mean, it's not like my family ever even does that at home anymore. And, I don't know. And I like my privacy. I like closing my door, even when I was at home. I like being alone, I like not having to make conversation. Anyway, it's getting better, I think he's ignoring me more, which is good. But it's bad too. I wanna be good enough friends with this person such that if we have problems dividing stuff, or with the apartment, or with rent, or whatever, it's not going to be too bad. I feel dependent on him enough as it is, since he found the apartment, he pays the rent (and I pay him back), he does this this and that, and so forth. I want to feel like I have SOME amount of control over the situation. I feel like if he does everything, AND I ignore him, that's too much. But maybe he's like, wanting to be ignored too. Hm. So I'm not sure how I'm supposed to act toward this person. Interestingly, he's also extremely attractive and pretty close to my type, whatever that means, but I feel absolutely no attraction whatsoever. It's a little bizarre, I think, but it's a good thing. All right, this entry has gone on long enough!
|
||
