I finally got my first job! I’ve been working there for about three and a half weeks. The shifts are short and fit in after my classes. It pays surprisingly well for a college job and leaves a lot of time open for writing, reading, and doing homework (not that I ever actually do homework).
I’m going home in two and a half weeks and that scares me because I haven’t lost any weight. I think I’ve put on more. I wanted to lose thirty pounds this quarter, but I didn’t. I feel like such a piece of shit.
The fact that I have this essentially anonymous diary and can write about how I actually feel gives me a lot of peace. I don’t have to pull any punches regarding my feelings, and hopefully I can learn to open myself up. I can learn to talk to people without trying to one-up them. Even now that I’ve got my one-upmanship under control, I try to relate to someone using my own experiences and it comes across as trying to draw attention to myself. I NEED to get better at talking to people, especially considering being a Communications major.
I haven’t taken any of my medications in a long time, and I’m avoiding seeing my endocrinologist. I rescheduled an appointment I had with her for July, so I still have a month, but I’m scared of what I’m going to find out and pissed off at my own fucking incompetence.
Summer break is four solid months long and I don’t know how I’m going to survive that. I’ve continued to collect pictures for my insanely successful alter ego. I spend more time daydreaming about her life than I do actual living in mine.
Song of the day: First Snow by the Fountain.
"Don’t wait. Writers are the only artists I know of who expect to get somewhere by waiting. Everyone knows you have to dance to be a dancer, you have to sing to be a singer, you have to act to be an actor, but far too many people seem to believe that you. don’t have to write to be a writer. So, instead of writing, they wait. Isaac Asimov said it beautifully in just six words: “It’s the writing that teaches you.” Writing is what teaches you. Writing is what leads to “inspiration.” Writing is what generates ideas. Nothing else-and nothing less. Don’t meditate, don’t do yoga, don’t do drugs. Just write."
— DANIEL QUINN (via booksandpublishing)
The next time someone says “ily” out loud I’m gonna slap them in their fucking face
I had a meeting with my TA today on my paper and actually got some great advice and ways to expand on my paper. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as I had thought it up to be. I am a bit blindsided by the due date being next Wednesday, but it’s only a six page paper, so I should be fine.
Apparently, if I take my depression medication at night, I can’t sleep. This is a problem. A major, major problem that must be addressed as soon as can be.
I’m going back home for next weekend, which is going to be awful. My mom wants me to com back home so she can see how much weight I’ve lost (I most likely haven’t), and it fucking pisses me off. She’s going to cry, and then be sullen the rest of the weekend. I’m going to figure out my financial aid tomorrow and fill out my FAFSA.
Also, I saw this adorable couple today as I was walking out of the student union. It was a very smart-looking, geeky Indian girl and a very good-looking, jock-like white guy. I’m so for racially diverse couples, and they were so fucking adorable. They looked at each other like they were in love. Gah! I’m making up stories about their future lives in my head already.
Song of the day: Drunk in Love by Beyonce Ft. Jay-Z
But I’m still fucked.
I picked the Communications major, which is good. It’s open to a lot of jobs that I am interested in, but I found out today there’s an application process for the major. I don’t have to worry about it until next year, but still.
In other news, I have three six-to-eight page papers due in three weeks, and I only have a rough draft for one! At least I don’t have to worry bout finals for a while. There is a mandatory meeting with one of my T.A.’s, and I should probably respond to the timeslot email.
Also, I need to figure out how my financial aid works. Will probably do that in Friday.
Took my depression medication last night. Avoided nausea, but obviously the medicine takes more than one day to work (last time I felt better after about three days).
Song of the Day: Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips.
I haven’t taken my medication for a while (I went home from college and forgot to take my pills with me). So I decided to write this post about what that feels like.
Without medication, I have this stone sitting in my chest. I can’t breathe around it. I don’t remember being aware of this stone before, so it must be because with the medication I know what it’s like to like without it. That’s eye-opening.
With medication, I feel okay. Like how I think people without depression must feel about a neutral day. I can get up and do things without having to plan them in five-minute increments, which lets my brain relax a bit.
In other news, one of my roommates (let’s call her A) went home for the night (it’s Sunday, and she has class tomorrow), and the other came back from seeing her mother (let’s call her B). Her family lives in Seattle, so this is the first time she’s seen her mom since winter break. But she came right in and then left, which makes me think that they’re spending the night at her house together. Which is fine. I dislike the sneakiness of it all, but I know they are closer to each other than to me.
Song of the day: Pretty Hurts by Beyonce.
I’m going to attempt to do a post at least every other day. (i might even branch out into some fanfic) We’ll see how this goes. Hobey-Ho!