introversion

So what are these four years boiling down to? I wish I knew. Then maybe I could write a speech, one that could not only come from my heart, but could reach everyone (and yet, should I even bother trying to reach everyone? It is true that I am not even fond or am on a basis of acquaintance with the majority of my class). Maybe I could figure out what’s going on with me, with those around me, even this thing called “us.” There is this laziness–even a fear–that has settled deep within me. And a tiredness too, as if completely defeated. A part of my spirit is crushed; I admit, I thought it would not hurt opening that letter (I already knew the answer in a way, when that letter was so small; maybe I had known all day, plagued by an inexplicable sadness that festered in my heart), but it did sting nonetheless to find yet another failure. Although perhaps I had gotten used to rejection, for when I found out I would not be going to Stanford, it did not hurt or cut as deeply as a few months ago.

I forgot the tennis banquet was today. In fact, I just remembered a few minutes ago. *sigh*

So what is this other sadness? I know it. I know it well. But a part of me wants to pretend it isn’t there, yet it cannot be ignored. Step forward? Retreat? The options seem so simple, so straightforward. But then I start to thinking and the doubts creep from the shadows of my mind and prey upon me. It is so easy to think of reasons to not and so hard to find the strength to pursue. If only life were a problem I could find the resolution to. I fit in this box too well.

This weekend was the time for random occurrances and nights. Grad nite was very fun; I didn’t meet random people (and I doubt I did as much people watching as some of my friends) or dance (we were going to get around to it, but by the time we did, I was beat–not to mention that’s a lot of friggin’ people to exhibit my absolute no skills to), but I had a lot of fun. And random things happened, more or less. But that’s what made it fun. Oh, and awesome conversation on the way up–good conversation always seems to happen on trips like these.

Then lots of sleep happened.

Then Saturday came ’round and prom happened. Dinner was fun–our table stretched down to forever; as a consequence, the table was divided into mini-groups. That was fine; I was comfortably positioned. Good conversation, pretty good food with the bane of having a huge party. But that was okay. Oh, and forgetting to tell Marian which restaurant it was sucked =(. But she still came, so that was good. Driving downtown = nightmare. Oh, and taking a wrong turn = dammit! We’ll blame Bryan for that one, who willingly admitted to reading the directions wrong (good job, Bryan!). Ok. So we got double-booked and we got slammed into this teeny-tiny hallway and danceroom at the Bristol. You know, I was surprisingly not angry or unhappy. I dragged my date (and consequently, myself) onto the dance floor and just had fun. Why not? I paid my money! I regret not taking a fun, cheap $8 photo for our own memories though. It would have been nice =), but we got one done anyway. Everyone looked so nice last night, regret not getting an entire group photo =(. So prom ’til eleven o’clock–people had a countdown to get out of there–don’t know what after-parties were happening, but ended up at Mariana’s where Twister went down. I didn’t play well, but very fun to watch. Then Denny’s and some ice cream to end the night, dropped off people who need to get dropped off and then home for some long sleep.

Okay. Now the issue I’ve been avoiding, huh? I don’t know. What is with this year? Did I suddenly become a prospect this year? I’m torn. One part of me says, “Why the hell not?” The other part throws all these logical reasons not to.

But there’s one thing I won’t doubt: those two nights, I had a lot of fun.

But is it worth taking to the next level? And am I willing to go there? The fear in my gut says no. The smile the memories brings me says yes. I hate being insecure in this fashion. I wish I could just be like, Fuck it. But I can’t be, because that’s not me. Do you know that? Do you see that? Or do you only see the silly side of me?

I feel like I’ve run this topic into the ground.

Never explain–your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway.
-Elbert Hubbard (1856 - 1915)

Wow. Not quite sure if it holds true, but if I ever found a friend who held such faith in me, I’d be shocked (and honored).

Just finished reading The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. It leaves a feeling of sadness; it is entirely appropriate, but even so, I couldn’t help but yearn for a happy ending, one where the world is not so cruel and events were not so unforgiving. In a way, I was sad that my predictions as to where the plot was heading were right; not because it made the book predictable or less enjoyable, but that it seemed far too sinister in its own way. Nevertheless, it was a good read–I just wish that the story could have gone on, to have bestowed a sense of closure. Do we believe in a happy ending? Or is the reader expected to be cynical? I do not know.

“The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see writing as emerging like a long scroll of ink from the index finger of your right hand; you must see your left hand erasing it.
“Impossible, of course.
“I pay out my line, I pay out my line, this black thread I’m spinning across the page.”
-Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

I feel like I can quote Margaret Atwood to death. She keeps hitting me with these passages that smack of truth.

Going home early… it’s been a while since I’ve done that. Not only that, but practically being pushed to go home by my teacher was a bit odd. I didn’t feel very under the weather really–just a slight temperature (if even that) and a stuffy nose from hell (and I gave it hell with abrasive paper towels). I’ve stayed at school feeling worse; still, home it was for me, where a three hour nap was in order. Strange dreams… that I can’t remember. Although this morning’s dreams were just as strange as well.

Now the Internet connection is acting all screwy on me. Gr.

It’s strange how you learn things and the world is turned upside down, and then a moment later, right-side up. My world just keeps getting flipflopped: things I never would have thought or was too oblivious to perceive.

Story of my friggin’ life, eh?

Damn this obliviousness of mine (as always, no?). Does anyone know a cure? Maybe selflessness?

What goes on in people’s minds? Everyone thinks writers must know more about the inside of the human head, but that’s wrong. They know less, that’s why they write. Trying to find out what everyone else takes for granted.
-Margaret Atwood, “Lives of the Poets”

And right now, I feel like I know nothing. Nothing at all. I just don’t understand. I don’t. I really don’t.

I feel like something in me has broken, a sadness I cannot explain. Everything shattered. Is this what it all comes down to? I do not know. Ignorance truly can be bliss.

To tell the truth, I’m so afraid of disappointing, of never finishing another story I start. It’s happened too many times already… it’s like I can’t stop.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll run out of material?”
“Not material, energy,” she’d said, making it sound like a joke; but it had been true, that was her fear. Weren’t they the same thing?
-Margaret Atwood, “Lives of the Poets”

And when I read that part, I closed the book and thought about it. It rang so true, it scared me. My mind won’t stop imagining things, thinking up people and scenarios, but where is the energy? Where is the drive? Is it already fading–gone–for me?

I hope not. I’m not ready to give it up yet. But maybe I’m not fighting hard enough for it either. It’s been too long. Too many disappointments. Too many little failures.

Not yet, please, not yet.

… and I hope my grade reflects it. I think I did well on my presentation. I really did just go in there and wing it. The time flew by, as the seniors I talked to agreed. So much I could have talked about, but ah well. I probably forgot tons of things. My mind blanked at certain points, but ah well. It is done, it is done!

So… presentations today, huh? *sigh* Let’s hope that I can be “my charming self” and get this over with.

… Didn’t study… again. Ah, well.

When I read awesome literature, a part of me despairs. Why do I even try, I ask myself, when I could never hope to reach such a level, to find such simplicity of expression, to know such intimacy with the language, to be so beautiful?

It makes me afraid. It makes me feel very small. And I wonder, What is the point of it all? What is my point? What is my message?

Is there one?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe not yet.

Hmm… … … Why are stickers so hard to take off of the little package thingy? Either I have no dexterity at all or those things are made to frustrate. So… AP exam week, huh? Yeah… Spanish? Well, as badly as I did, I can say that the speaking part was very, very amusing to witness, since everyone was shocked by how short the time periods seemed to be. Not that I said anything–in fact, I blanked -_-. Calculus? Wow. Hard. First of all, I didn’t study and second of all, I completely forgot how to do inverse functions. That free response part was just like: “What the heck?”

Tomorrow is English Literature. I feel like I’m not even really going to school anymore. Ugh. Of course, the multiple choice portion of the Government final just had to be on Friday too. *sigh* At least I’m just about done with my portfolio! HA!

Oh, and Full Metal Alchemist is so much fun.

What completely random occurrences at dinner–I was nearly crying I was laughing so hard. Good times.