i am not made for other people

I am made for loneliness and tears; anger and anxiety; darkness and monotony. I love the whole wide world except for everyone that's in it (you know this isn't true)

a simple truth

We speak in metaphors because reality is too much to take, or not enough to live for.

my latest miracle

I have seen something new and grand: I have seen my future.

Do not be mistaken: I have not acquired the magical gift of Sight, tampered with a crystal ball or played with tarrot cards. But I have seem a future that belongs to me and only me.

I used to think I would die at the tender age of twenty. Not only could I not see past that age, but I could see my death by disease or by accident. "A sweet, bright young woman, full of potential, mourned by her friends and family" A born cliché.

But lately, now that I'm approaching twenty years, I've had glimpses of what I could be were I to live: a professor, alone in a Ottawa appartment, bathing in a crisp, white light, drinking tea, reading. I don't think it is a future I will share with someone special, but I don't mind. Teaching physics, doing research, and pursuing my career as a student: a bacchalaureate in political science, in English litterature, in linguistics (ethymology in particular), in French litterature, in Russian... Forever learning. I cannot die: I have not learned enough. So many books not read, classes not taken, people not met. Not that I like most people- I assure you, I don't- but some people are worth the stressful acquaintance.

This means a lot to me. This future is not only possible, but also probable, and delights me. At last I have something more to look forward to than an untimely and gruesome death.

At last, I hope and dream to live.

back from the dead

Or almost. I've been reading far too many books to be considered one of the living (I like the dead better anyways, or the fictional, I should say). The Brontë sisters make fine company.

I'm not sure where I'm headed right now. I've been out of school for a week and I already miss the schoolwork. I've been doing a lot of tutoring and shifts at the Bed and Breakfast, learning Spanish, playing guitar, reading, cleaning... Everything is so very easy and relaxing. Today I took a long walk downtown with a friend and we talked about parents and jealousy and literature.

I haven't cut since that night. I probably would have, had the proper instruments been available, but I didn't. I don't think I will do it again unless something disastrous occurs. And when you're as dramatic as I am, that isn't entirely unlikely.

My grades were less than satisfying this session: my average has slumped from 92% to 90%, but I think it will pick up next session, if I'm not sick as often (though that doesn't excuse anything!). School is important to me, so this was rather disappointing.

I saw a skinny girl today and I felt massive. But I'm too tired for anything to affect me much, I am still recuperating from last session (stupid stupid under-achieving immune system) and this heat is keeping me awake- it will be the death of me.

I can feel it coming though. The panic. The anxiety.

Can't it wait?

I don't think I could take it right now.

it's nothing

Nothing at all, really. It's just a boy, with whom I was stupidly infatuated. In the (approximated) words of Artemis Fowl: "Damn those hormones."

Being is. Being is in-itself. Being is what it is.

So said my friend the philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre.

This man also said that freedom is what we do with what has been done to us. I think this applies to me, to us: though some of us may have been born with morbid obsessions, uncontrollable hatred for the body and in painful solitude, all of which was out of our control, we are free to do what we want with what we have become. We are not determined by our past, by our genetic heritage, by our upbringing or by others' expectations: we are determined by our choices and our actions, presently.

Of course it isn't all that simple, or we wouldn't be here. Our minds are prey to constant conflicts of interest, so much so that making consistent decisions- or making any at all- is quite a difficult task and often deemed impossible. Are we rational? Can we be free and irrational? Are we prisoners of our innate inability to reason?

Are we prisoners of society? Of our family, our friends, the people we love, respect and admire? Jean-Paul Sartre wrote in his play Huis Clos that Hell is other people. Without others, there is no right and wrong, no morality: one could even argue that there is no consciousness. However, the people who surround us pass constant judgment on who we are and what we do: since morality and the values promoted by society do not always go hand in hand, the people who surround us can sometimes alter our development as healthy, happy individuals. They can imprison us in their expectations; their weapons of choice are our emotional attachment, our ideals, gratitude and guilt; our executioner, disappointment and the subsequent sense of failure.

Sorry for all the philosophical nonsense: this consists of my humble views on life and achievements, clumsily supported by a few well-thought out quotes by my existentalist friend. I encourage you to learn more about Jean-Paul Sartre, he is an absolute genius. At any rate, I will try to spare you in the future, promise. Unless you somehow enjoyed this, or if it was in any way thought-provoking.

My exam session is over. I am done. In more ways than one. All the exhaustion from the past session is starting to catch up to me: I am off to some well-deserved rest. More of the usual strangeness to come, of course.

I love you all. Take care, please!

i miss you

I miss blogging. I miss writing about how I feel and what I think. Only five days of school and three exams to go: after that, I am all yours.