The Truth Remains Lethal

What the fuck is wrong with me?

What the fuck is wrong with me? Can someone tell me? Apparently, there is, if I repulse people so much that I cannot even get some proper fucking constructive criticism.

Here is my overdue "Hate the World" rant. It was coming sooner or later being me. This time, it's just a bit more founded because I have not "hated the world" in so long and have been happily living in it for some time now, but now it's just gone too far.

Well, today, my English Comp. class was having a workshop, following an assignment of an essay, we usually preview some essays for those who have signed up, discuss them and criticize them, The first essay was previewed to rave reviews, and few criticisms... people would talk and even find an excuse to talk just to explain how much they loved it. It may sound like jealousy, but when my essay was previewed, I got all but 6 comments... and almost 4 of them were made by my teacher because she did in fact notice the lack of responses. Yes, there is the possibility that there may have been not much wrong with it, but they wouldn't even fucking tell me that. It was pretty much quiet for the most part.

Okay, you might say, "but this is just one time," but the thing is... it isn't. Last semester's class was exactly the same, in class and on the Internet. On the Internet, we were told to post the essay on a Discussion Board, on UM's student companion website. I posted the essay along with 5 other people and there would be people who would comment on every other essay except mine... at least three people did that...

Someone tell me what the fuck is wrong with me?

Farewell.

I have the cojones after all.

I finally built up enough courage to leave his class. This is his last lecture and he is focusing on Underwater Archaeology, in his words, "An explicit advertisement." I had no reason to stay for that lecture for I will not, nor ever will, take another archaeology class or any class with him.

Therefore, I left 15 min into the lecture. I felt guilty because I cannot imagine how horrible that must have made him feel, especially since I accidentally made a ruckus while leaving. Either way, I'm taking refuge in the library and am now content with the time away from him and his god-forsaken class.

Farewell.

I wonder why I don't ever have anything to do...

Well, here I am, once again... I'm attempting to pass the time until my conference appointment with my English Composition teacher. Of course, being a complete idiot, I decided to come at my usual time, arriving at 6:45 AM, despite the fact that my appointment is scheduled for 8:30 AM. So I've been waiting, doing anything in my power to pass the time.

I've snatched a computer facing the back of the library so that I would feel less guilty for slacking, but to no avail. Damn, I really should have brought my laptop, that way I would have been able to sneak up to the 9th Floor stacks and just do nothing without feeling this ridiculous guilt.

Ah well, my appointment is in a half hour and I must make a stop into the restroom before I leave for her office.

I cannot wait for the semester to end. An entire month off!

Farewell.

High school memories

I realize I do not remember the first half of my Freshman year in high school. It must have been a really unpleasant experience.

If I were to possibly attempt to describe what I felt, I guess I would attribute it to a numb daze. I've experienced numbness before and it's not pleasant, but this was on an entire different level. I literally felt like I was in a daze, much like a daze one enters when one is intensely sick with the common cold or the flu sans the other symptoms, that didn't cease for nearly six months. I cannot even do it justice. It was like a warm blanket that hindered all of my senses, stuffing my nose and ears, and blinding me to the life going on around me. It inhibited my perception of reality.

The only real thing that I remember from that time period was that of a few short list of songs that somehow penetrated my daze and reminded me I was alive. It wasn't because of lyrical content or anything, it was just good music that I really enjoyed. Before then, I never really enjoyed music intensely. Just a few songs lying around would catch my attention, but this music penetrated my daze, making me realize the significance in music. The magnitude of the music is multiplied when given the fact that it was during a stage of deep unfelt depression.

The list includes, but not limited to, "Stacey's Mom" by Fountains of Wayne, "Maps" by The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, "Don't Stay" by Linkin Park, "Float On" by Modest Mouse, "Take Me Out" by Franz Ferdinand, "Until the Day I Die" by Story of the Year, "The Reason" by Hoobastank, and the regrettable "So Yesterday" by Hilary Duff.

Farewell.

QotD: This One Goes Out To...

It's dedication time.  What song are you sending out, and who is it dedicated to?

Maybe a small dedication to Holly. "Like A Star" - Corinne Bailey Rae

Like A Star

Just like a star across my sky,
Just like an angel off the page,
You have appeared to my life,
Feel like I'll never be the same,
Just like a song in my heart,
Just like oil on my hands,
Honored to love you,

Still i wonder why it is,
I don't argue like this
With anyone but you,
You do it all the time,
Blowing out my mind,

You've got this look i can't describe,
You make me feel I'm alive,
When everything else is au fait,
Without a doubt you're on my side,
Heaven has been away too long,
Can't find the words to write this song,
Oh, you're lovely.

Still i wonder why it is,
I don't argue like this
With anyone but you,
You do it all the time,
Blowing out my mind, Yeah

I have come to understand
The way it is,
It's not a secret anymore,
'cause we've been through that before,
From tonight I know that you're the only one,
I've been confused and in the dark,
Now I understand, Yeah

I wonder why it is,
I don't argue like this,
With anyone but you,
I wonder why it is,
I won't let my guard down,
For anyone but you
You do it all the time,
Blowing out my mind,

Just like a star across my sky,
Just like an angel off the page,
You have appeared to my life,
Feel like I'll never be the same,
Just like a song in my heart,
Just like oil on my hands

Farewell.

That damn research paper.

Well, here I am, attending my 3rd session in the experiment, obtaining my last 2 credit points. They have me waiting here once again, as they are backed up. So here I am attempting to write anything that amuses me so as to pass the time till they send for me. It looks like it's going to be random thoughts in my head.

I want to work on my research paper for Archaeology, but I'm just too damn lazy and I just find myself in a state of procrastination. I know I must finish within the remaining two weeks, but I cannot bring myself to do it. It's ridiculous. I've at least taken some baby steps, I've written a 155 word introduction paragraph. It

Interrupted...

EDIT: 2:27PM

The moment I wrote the word "it," the experimenters came in and whisked me away to complete the session. It was tedious, but not as irritating as the previous session.

Continuation: It's better than nothing, I suppose.

That damn research paper is the only thing that is truly stressing me out.

QotD: Unforgettable Crush

What's the most memorable crush you have had? 
Submitted by spectacular.  

There are at least two answers I have to give to this question as since they are both extremely memorable in their own sense.

1) It was 2nd grade in Sabal Palm Elementary School. It was to a girl named Jessica Villeda. She was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen in Sabal Palm. It was weird, she somehow always seemed to sparkle whenever she smiled. It was spectacular. We were the closest of friends and we couldn't get enough of each other. The memory is foggy, but I remember finding out that she liked my best friend at the time, Lindsey. I remember not feeling too affected by it at first, but not really understanding the depth it. Before I could explore, she moved and I never heard from her again.

2) Of course, we must reference the whole Mercedes incident. Yes, I believe I fell in love with her. I considered her one of the greatest people I had ever met. I was willing to do anything for her. She couldn't handle it, and I ended dealing with one of the painful experiences of my life.

Farewell.

The crappy QotD's and my new Hideout

These Question of the Days are getting ridiculous. I have not seen an interesting one is so many weeks. Most of them are stupid and do not provoke any deep thoughts whatsoever

On another note, I've found a new hideout in the library. The library is generally composed of 2-3 buildings. The Stacks building is where most of the books are stored, floor atop floor of massive shelves of books, usually dedicated to one specific subject.

I am currently on the 7th floor Stacks, and I've been here many times looking for books regarding this research paper for Archaeology, as this floor is generally Archaeology and History of the worlds. It can get creepy because there is virtually no one on these floors, and if there are, most of them are quietly looking for books, and then quickly leave. There is little technology here and makes one think of Freddy Krueger's lair, complete with pipes, albeit much less dark.

I seem to have fallen in love with this place because of the complete solitude and atmosphere. It's invigorating and  thankfully there are work stations set up like little cubicles, albeit more triangular, so I can set up the laptop, browse, and slack off with glee, and guilt-free.

Farewell.

Where does flattery get you?

Lately, I have been thinking - of course, what would you expect of me? - a lot about my social skills. We have just recently, and briskly, covered Social Psychology, prompting me to think of my own disposition. This idea has been nagging me for quite some time, but for it never really came to light until just recently following the chapter.

I believe that, with certain people, I am a flatterer. I flatter people a lot, sometimes to an unbearable extent that I know would annoy many, but I just can't stop. I enjoy it so much. It's not to say that what I say is false, heavens no. Everything I say is true, I just go overboard with the frequency of the compliments.

I guess it all goes back to the fact that I didn't have many friends to begin with, and I feel the only to obtain any of that love from friendship, is to constantly make them feel good about themselves.

Either that, or I've gone overboard with solipsism again.

Farewell.

No more...

Too many times I've made the mistake of actually believing I could be truly happy, or I actually could receive what I dream of. Too long I've hurt because of those mistakes. I've dealt with too many blows and I will no longer tolerate this thing.

Hope... As Emily Bronte has described in one of my favorite poems, it does nothing but lead you along on a short leash, and then throw you aside after dragging you on grovel,

I'm absolutely finished with dreaming. I'm finished with desire and anything associated with it. I'm finished with hope.

I cannot continue hurting like this... every time. I cannot do it anymore.

Farewell.