And I can't help myself, I don't want anyone else.

I hate studying. Not just the mindless monotony of it all, though that figures into a healthy portion of it, but the uncertainty of it.

Yes, I've made over 150 flashcards full of information. Yes, I've spent hours reading the textbooks. But going over the flashcards took me only 30 minutes. Should it have taken longer? What if I'm overestimating my knowledge of these subjects?

In a way, I wish I didn't care so much. I know caring this much will be what separates me from last year's Bs and this year's As (and I will have them, oh, I will), but it adds so much stress to my life that wasn't there before. Last year tests were stressful, of course, but not to this level. I don't think I even stressed this much over physics tests, and I was never too good at physics. I've taken 3 years' worth of biology and another course in psychology... why am I so worried?

I guess it's just the GPA thing. I need to boost my GPA this year, without a doubt. If I make all As this semester (which I'm trying very, very hard to do) I'll have brought it up to a 3.5, and if I make all As for the year it'll be a 3.75. I want so badly to have that 3.75. I want to be that smartest girl again. Sure, in high school it was fun being the intelligent slacker - everybody knew I had the capabilities, I just never applied myself. But this is university level, and I want to make the best grades so I can get the best jobs.



When did I become my dad?

She's mighty, mighty - just lettin' it all hang out.

I seriously must have ADD. I've only been studying for about half an hour and I'm already going crazy. I take a break every 5 minutes to mess around online - checking email that I know doesn't have anything new, browsing music weblogs, and (of course) writing in my own blogs. About nothing. Nothing at all.

At least I'm not giving myself time to angst about my iPod. Though if I start thinking about it I'll just get all upset again and I'd just rather not at the moment. You understand.

The only good thing is that iTunes doesn't appear to be affected by whatever's taken out my iPod. Which means all my music is still there, if all lonely without its little iPod friendling. I apologize, my iTunes. It was nothing I did, I swear!

Well, when the iPod comes back from its little trip to Apple, I want to have loads of new music to put on it. A welcome home present, if you will. These music weblogs help me out with that - lots of really varied types of music. Which is, of course, always a good thing. Variety is the spice of life.

Shutting up and getting back to biology now.

Leaving me breathless.

It's strange sometimes, living in a building with 139 other people. There are people all around me, but somehow I can still feel very alone. Not lonely necessarily, as it's 3:30 in the morning; just... weird. Like I'm the only one here, the only one awake. Though I'm sure if I went out into the hall I could hear other people moving around in their rooms.

Or would I? Maybe I am the only one awake.

This is how I feel when I go home. After being surrounded by people constantly, being in a house with only 3 others is quite different. They all go to bed hours before I'm even sleepy, and I stay awake, all alone. And it really feels like you're all alone, in a way. Sometimes even more than when you really are.

I am not a pretty girl, that is not what I do.

It makes me sad that Eryn doesn't think I have the "general aura" for a lip piercing. Which basically means that I am not hardcore or awesome enough to get a facial piercing. I'm not stupid, I know that's what she means. She probably also thinks that I don't have the "general aura" for dyed hair or anything else that isn't prep-school chic.

Okay, I exaggerate. But still. It sort of depresses me that she doesn't think I'm cool enough to get a lip piercing.

But then, she's probably never thought I'm cool in any way.

Bow down before the one you serve.

Before I say anything else - please stop spam commenting on my blog here. If it's a real comment of some kind, go to town on it. But I'm getting really annoyed with these "You are a great blogger! Please come look at my blog for recipes and tips on curling your toe hair!" comments. I realize that you're all probably spambots, but on the offchance that you're an actual human being operating a computer - shut the hell up. Please. And go die in a fire.

Moving right along.

I'm getting the slightest bit irritated with having to share my computer with Jessica. Not because of her, mind you. But... it's my computer. It has all my personal stuff on it. I don't let my own family use it, that's how selfish I am with it. And it was fine for a week, even two. But now it's been three weeks and her internet still isn't working. Now she's asking to get on while I'm on. And it's really starting to bother me.

I don't know. It's my stuff. I'm really bad about sharing my stuff. Especially my favorite stuff, and I think my computer can definitely qualify as my favorite stuff. I don't like other people using it, and having to share it for several weeks without any indication that her internet will be fixed? Not cool. Not. Cool.

I realize she's probably just as frustrated by the situation as I am, but still. At least it's not her stuff. It's just... yeah. Really getting on my nerves. A lot.

Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard

Have restyled the look of my blog yet again, in the interest of simplicity. If simplicity has any interest, which I sort of doubt. I'm not entirely sure that phrase makes sense.

Regardless. I am back to what is essentially a default layout, which pains me somewhat, but I much prefer it to the kind of insanely done-up layouts on blogskins or what have you. Anyway, it's not as if anyone reads this besides me. And if you are reading this (and you aren't me) - why?* It's not particularly interesting. Go knit or something.

Seriously, go knit. It's preferable to listening to me whine about my lack of relationships, something I try to never do on any of my friend-accessed blogs, as it is irritating when other people do it and I've no patience for that. Plus, it's just wallowing. Wallowing in something as ridiculous as being single.

And yet, I wallow. Secretly. In my pit of shame.

I think the reason it's become to obvious to me that I'm single is because the people closest to me aren't. My sister has a boyfriend. Eryn has a boyfriend. Jessica has a boyfriend. Everybody's managed to fanangle a mutual love interest but me. And I really don't know what the problem is. I'm friendly enough. I'm cute enough. I'm funny enough. I'm even low-maintenance! I am very dateable. And yet, no dates.

But, you know. I soldier on. Eventually someone will come along, as I have been telling myself since I was 11. Someone fabulous and exactly perfect for me will come along and we will experience beautiful love and magic pink sparkles and slow-motion reunion hugs. It's only a matter of time! Really!




*Though I do appreciate the lengthy comment from Alana left on my previous post - it was very comforting to me. Sometimes it's important to know that you're not alone.

An ending fitting for the start, you twist and tore our love apart.

Religion. I'd wax poetic if I thought it had it in me, but unfortunately (or fortunately, as I view it) I've mostly given that up. Even my poetry doesn't even wax poetic half the time.

I don't know. So many people try to flower things up to make them interesting, when in reality I know for a fact that my religious quandary is of interest only to myself. And if I know my friends well enough, I know that they probably don't even want to hear about it. Which is fine with me at the moment - I also know better than to assume that they could ever understand.

Some people get it and some people don't. That's the way most things work, religion especially. You won't get why it cuts me so deep and you won't get why I can't just turn my back on it unless you've experienced it like I have. And I don't just mean going to church. There are tons of people who go to church and then one day just walk away from it without thinking twice. You have to go to church and actually believe it. Believe what's being said with every fiber of yourself, whether of your own volition or because you've been taught to. You have to believe.

That's the part that people don't understand when they tell me that I should just walk away. They didn't go to church, or if they did they never wanted to and didn't pay attention to any of it anyway. It means next to nothing to them. But for me, it meant something, and even if it I don't believe it now the echoes of it are still there in everything I do or think.

I believed it. I really did. For years I never questioned it. It was what I'd grown up with; what I'd always been told was true; and I never thought that any of it might be wrong. Until I really started thinking. Until that time when I met people who went against what I had always been told was right, and I was faced with the unbelievable idea that these wonderful people could suffer eternally just for being who they were.

I can't remember if I ever felt the icy finger of dread at that first moment of doubt. I can't remember if I felt anything - a kind of foreboding - that this was only the first step into another world of thinking and believing. Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't. I certainly kept up the facade for long enough. These people, the people that I knew, would be fine. Of course they would be fine. It was different for them.

And slowly but surely, over the passage of years, I changed. I stopped accepting and started asking. Why was it so? Why would a God of mercy and love condemn so many of his children? Why would so many people who only tried their best and did what they thought was right be sent to burn? It made no sense to me.

That was the most frightening part, I think. The Hell part. That's when it all twisted and I saw that I wasn't the same. I had already changed my opinions on so many things - homosexuality, premarital sex, dress code, body modification... but it was the Hell part that was and is the most frightening question for me.

It's just such a big thing to question. Questioning God's position (strange thing to say; he's not a politician after all) on homosexuality and the others was easier - it's a gray area. Who knows? But Hell? That's one of the big ones. Questioning its existence leads to the questioning of Christianity itself. Doesn't it? It feels that way.

I believe in God. I believe in Jesus. But beyond that I'm starting to realize that I don't know what I believe. Or rather, I do, but I don't know what it all adds up to.

I don't want to be condemned for questioning. I don't want to be condemned for thinking that everybody is okay and everybody can make it. I don't want to be condemned for loving. But will I be?

I don't know.

One giant leap backwards for blogkind.

After all my railing against secret blogs, I'm surprised to find myself making one. Though really, it's not quite the same. My problems with secret blogs stemmed from the maintainers of said blogs sharing them (and their negative contents) with others. And I don't plan to share this blog with anyone. It's easier than a paper journal, without all the hassle of hiding it and so on, and it's just a place for me to be myself... by myself. And sometimes, I think I need that.

I'm not sure as of yet what this blog will contain, beyond the obvious - things I don't feel comfortable sharing with others. I don't trust my friends with details of my romantic life beyond the general and vague (sad, but true), and I certainly can't speak my mind about said friends sometimes. It's not worth it to me to lose friends over a little bit of irritation, but sometimes I need to vent those things somewhere. Thus - secret blog.

How very sneaky of me. Only not. More like... lame. Story of my life.