Waiting for Life to Begin

This whole time I've been waiting for life to begin. I've been in Europe for the past two months, yet it all still seems unreal to me. It's not the fact that I cannot believe that I'm here, but the fact that I feel no connection to this place. I feel no desire to be here. This whole time I've wondered when it would finally hit me that I'm in Italy. I asked myself, "When will it happen?" When will I fully realize my presence in Rome, in Italy, in Europe? I only have about six weeks left and I still feel detached from this city.

My attention is always to a different place, to Chicago. In Paris and Marrakesh, I felt my heart and mind were in the right place. However, here, I feel displaced. I feel nothing. I've stood in the center of St. Peter's Square and of St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican. I've looked up at the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel and seen the Coliseum. However, none of them have affected me. I look at them with a blank stare and a heart that does not feel a deeper beat. I wonder if there is something wrong with me. Or perhaps I'm looking for something that is not there?

I've become frustrated with my disconnect. My constant frustration has made me bitter. I've come to detest this city. My attention has focused more and more on the things about this city that irks me. The slow internet speed is unbearable. I can't access porn due to program blockers put up by my school. All fast-food places close by midnight if not earlier. There is no definite place for gay people to come together and hang out. The lack of variety in food. The high cost of everything. The night life is pretty bland here. Fashion and culture are homogenous in comparison to that back home.

Most of all, I miss my friends back home. I see all their pictures online. All of them hanging out together and looking so happy. I sometimes wonder to myself, "Do they remember me?" Yes, it may be selfish of me considering that I have this opportunity to see a totally different part of the world whilst they are still at home. Nonetheless, I wonder if they think of me. I also fear that I will be filled with regret in the end. To only realize the opportunity I have once I am departed from this place. To have my mind set on this place only when I can no longer be here.

I'm Positive

"I'm HIV+"
"I'm HIV+"
"I'm HIV+"

As I stood in front of my bedroom mirror this morning, I whispered the same statement to myself. I was thinking, "Can it be true? Can I really have caught it? What the fuck was I thinking? Why did I do this to myself?" I keep on thinking of what I would do if it were true. Would I tell my parents? My family? Of course not. They would see less of me. I would no longer be their son. I would become the reinforcement to their misconstrued stereotype that all gay men are diseased. Can I do that to them? Can I really take away from them the hope and dreams they have invested in me? I can't. It's the second coming out story I just can't share.

I look in the mirror and the same person as the day before, the day before that, and the days that preceded all these days. I look at myself and see nothing of this disease. I see a 20 year old college student soon to be 21 and soon to be going on an adventure to Europe. On the outside, I'm the same person as before, but internally I could possibly be fighting a battle.

Why did I hook up with this person on Grindr? Why did I hook up with this person grabbing his crotch on the train? I took all these risks for nothing more than an hour's worth of an adrenaline rush. I gave up my identity for the thrill of spontaneity. It's stupid. I'm stupid. I can't stop but blame myself.

It has been two days since both of incidents occurred. Yesterday, after waking up from an hour nap at work, my throat felt sore. It was somewhat difficult for me to swallow compared to usual and the lymph nodes on both sides of my neck were tender. It's so bizarre to think that my symptoms started while I was asleep for an hour. Perhaps it was evident before, but I just did not notice? I was somewhat chilly, are chills a symptom of an STD? I don't know.

I've spent all of last night searching for the incubation period of all the common STDs and trying to figure out when I should get tested. I looked up the early symptoms of each common STD and tried to match it with mine. "Sore throat and swollen lymph nodes...," two out of the six early symptoms of HIV. My search only worries me even more, yet I can't stop as I try to find any reassurance I can of it being nothing more than a cold. My worries make it difficult for me to sleep and I wake up with tight muscles. Great, another symptom: muscle tightness. I try to convince myself that the sore throat/difficulty to swallow is probably just because the second guy kept shoving his dick way past my tonsils: over and over. I made sure to not swallow and I rinsed out my mouth just to make sure (since they tell you not to brush your teeth or anything). Then I try to rationalize the swollen lymph nodes on my neck. Nope, I'm definitely sick. It's just a matter of what I'm sick with.

I'm scared and I'm worried. The incubation period for all the common STDs (along with HIV) is from one week to three months. This means I have to wait at least a week to be accurately tested for some, but not all, STDs. It scares me and it worries me. I keep wondering why I allowed myself to be put at risk. I keep telling myself, "I'm HIV+," in order to prepare myself if it were true. However, if my results do come out positive two or three months from now (with the Nucleic Acid-Based test), nothing can truly prepare me for the emotions I will feel at that point.

This has made me face my own mortality. I am human and I am vulnerable to this world. It's astonishing and I wish it wasn't true... but it is.

My Life in a Rant

This is my life (currently) in a rant:

I'm currently going to school for psychology and advertisement/PR. I also currently work in retail. In the past week, I've realized how much of a slacker/failure I've been. Sure, I have a job and school on my plate, which can be overwhelming, but at the same time I feel as if I've been pretty relaxed about everything; I don't believe that I've stayed ahead of the game. I'm falling behind in certain things, but staying afloat has kept me ignorant of how much I'm struggling to do so. There's still so much space for effort, yet I've not applied myself. I'm coming to this realization and it makes me feel ashamed of myself a little. This isn't necessarily a bad thing since it has made me realize that I do care. I just have to act upon that concern.

I love my retail job. The people I work with (for the most part) are very friendly and welcoming. Sure, there are those that are pretentious and could not be bothered to even say hello or give a cordial smile, whatever. That's their problem. As long as they're satisfied with their lives and personality, that's cool. I'll stick with the people who I can smile and laugh with. The job can get overwhelming at times since it's technically my first serious retail job and basically everyone I work with has had a few months to a few years of retail experience. Whatever, I got the job for some reason, right? I deserved it. I think I'm getting the hang of it.

There's a boy at work that I've become close with. I think he's someone I can call a friend. The first time I ever met him, I knew that I was attracted to him. Sexually? Perhaps a bit. Although, I think that my attraction leans more towards wanting to get to know him, an intimate attraction per se. He has these beautiful azure eyes speckled with hints of green and hazel. He's good looking and everyone knows it. The first time we ever met, he opened up to me. It caught me off guard, but in a good way. Yes, I'm attracted to him and he has been very open to being my friend. However, he's straight. I can't act upon my attraction. It hurts a bit to know that I want something I cannot have and it's right in front of me. Perhaps it's obvious, to him or to anyone else, that I am attracted to him. But it's something I can never admit outside of myself. I don't want to ruin what he and I possibly have. If things go well, he'll be the closest thing I'll have to a straight male friend.

Working in retail has made me realize my dissatisfaction with my body. Sure, I always said that I want to be more fit and physically attractive, but nothing really pushed me forward other than some hopeful fantasy of having flat abs. Not even a six pack, I just want a flat stomach. Working in retail, especially in the city, I work alongside some of the best looking people. I think I look fat. I think that I am fat. It's not even just that... Compared to the others I work with, I just feel quite unattractive.

Brandon has a new boyfriend now as of yesterday. Good for him. I'm happy for him. How am I comparing it to my own single status? Let's admit it, we always compare our status to those of our past when things change for the better for them. Anyways, I'm satisfied with being single. Is it ideal? I honestly don't know, but it currently works for me. Perhaps I'm not ready for a relationship or perhaps no one has found me to be a good catch. Whatever the reason(s) may be, I'm single and I have myself to live for.

I can't believe that I'll be in Rome in just a little over three months. I don't think it will hit me until I've actually slept a night there and wake up the next morning; in a new place, new city, a new country. I account to the fact that I've been disappointed throughout my life for the things I always felt passionate about. For some reason, there's still this doubt in the back of my head that I'll be living in Rome, Italy in just three months. At the same time, though, I am excited. Who knows what sort of transformations I will go through while I'm there. Perhaps I'll truly find myself in the midst of a foreign world.

I'm Sick

To start off, I just want to tell you that I never get sick. Never, ever, ever, ever... Well, close to never at least (considering what's happening to me now). I never get sick during cold/flu season and I never get sick even when working/living close to someone who is sick.

For some reason, I've started to get symptoms in the past few days. It started out with an itchy throat, then a little sinus pressure. This morning, I woke up with the feeling that my throat was really really dry and my sinuses felt like they had 2-3 pounds of pressure pushing on them. Now, I also feel as if my eyes want to pop out and the back of my neck feels really strained. I've never experienced cold symptoms like this since I was like 9 years old, when it would hurt to even turn my eyes side to side.

Usually, when I do feel a cold coming along, it would just be the sniffles and it'd be gone a few days later. This, however, feels much worse. Why is this happening to me?

Oh yea. Forgot, I'm a college student. I wake up for school at 6am every morning, then head to work until 11pm. I usually don't get home til midnight... Now repeat that 4-5 times a week. I'm not stressed, just tired. Oh so tired. The McDonald's breakfast every morning and a can of Monster energy drink every night I work probably aren't good ideas either.

I Wanted to Kill Myself

In the middle of my freshman year of university I wanted to kill myself.

I thought about killing myself, about not existing, at least five or so times a day, everyday. I thought of how it would be better not to feel anything or to even have a sense of consciousness... I felt constant anxiety. I felt alone.

I did reach out. I did try to find comfort in my friends. But they couldn't understand the situation I was in. I was often met with blank stares or blank promises that everything would be all right.

So what was the problem? Why did I feel like killing myself? Because of a bully.

She made my life hell. She verbally would attack me on Facebook along with her friends, she prank texted my cellphone, she posted rumors about me on online gossip boards for my school, and she would pass rumors around school. For example, she told people that I stuck anal beads up myself, that I was a whore, and she hoped that I would get an STD/STI; she posted links to my video blog on a school gossip board telling people how pathetic I was, encouraging people to watch it, ridicule it, and comparing it to a car crash that "you don't want to look, but can't help but watch." She truly put great effort into hurting me. That thought is what hurt the most: her extremely driven intent to cause me emotional harm.

I felt degraded by this girl and I felt like no one was out there to help me. I had friends and I had people that told me things would be all right, but for this specific situation I felt alone. I was alone. It hurt. I told myself that I hated her, that I wish she would just stop. But it didn't stop.

From September til October, I fell into greater depression until someone I barely knew reported me to my school about my pattern of depression. I was made to go to the psychologist on campus, who couldn't help but scribble notes on her notepad as I would pour my heart out to her. It felt good to talk to someone, but the feeling of comfort didn't last since her constant scribbling convinced me that her compassion wasn't genuine. I was nothing more than a case study to this woman.

After all that had occurred, I don't think I found immediate closure. I don't know if I ever will. I know that I've become stronger and wiser. At the same time, however, even the thought of seeing her still makes me slightly anxious.

As fate would have it, I ran into her today. I was walking with a friend and she was holding tightly onto her friend. I didn't recognize her at first, but in the back of my mind a sense of familiarity clicked. As soon as I remembered who she was, I couldn't help but look away. Her friend laughed as soon as they both passed by me...

After that encounter, I stumbled upon her Tumblr account as I was curious as to whether she has recently written anything slanderous about me. I found a blog post that showed me her vulnerable side. A part of her that I didn't know existed. She wrote about breaking down and all of her insecurities. It made me feel better after reading all she had written. I didn't feel better because I was happy for her suffering. I felt better because it made me realize that she was human too. It shattered this notion in my mind that she was some untouchable entity that could hurt me, but could not be affected herself.

No matter how much I could be upset with how she treated me, I couldn't hate her or find pleasure in her pain, even though she had driven me to thoughts about suicide. At this point, I finally could find myself to forgive her for all she had done. At the same time, I feel as if I've allowed myself to be liberated from the fearful grasp she had on me.

I'm glad I didn't kill myself.
____________________________________________
(The following is the entry written by her.)
Tonight I messed around with a substance I haven’t touched since last summer. I can’t say that I regret it, but it made me feel excited and nostalgic in some way before I even indulged in it. I’m not sure if it’s the steady approach of another year of school or the absence of my boyfriend, but the strange waves of my mood since he left for Florida some days ago have me dysfunctional and restless, but so so tired. Last night I was in the kitchen of the bar I work at, folding silverware, thinking about my life, or the lack of stability within it, and began to cry. Fifteen minutes later I was pounding shots like a champ and went home feeling pretty empty, despite the fact that I spent the next hour engulfed in a rather heavy conversation with a female ex-coworker of mine. I have always known that despite all of my battles, I am very lucky to have the life I live. It is true that the grass appears greener on the other side, but I think of all the people I know who are blessed in terms of money and familial relationships, and I realize I am so rich in experience, strength, and my ability to connect to the smallest and faintest of things. There are moments, however, like this week, when I crumble thinking about how 90% of my peers have no idea what its like to work 60 hours a week as a 21 year old full-time college student, so what - I can pay for my medical bills, receive an education for my ever promising future, and afford the rent to a studio I hardly live in? Meanwhile, I’m accused of being a golddigger and a heartless bitch roughly every 3 months without fail from a bitter kid who has not a clue who I am anymore, but somehow manages to dig up the most insane shit to slander my name a year and some later. I am in tears as I pour out my soul to this blog that I’m sure no one reads except for my crazy ex boyfriends and the insecure Asian girls who strangely envy me. Sometimes I can’t help but indulge in self-pity as I accept that this life is not at all the reality I had hoped for 4 years ago, this is not the reality I had known could even exist 4 years ago, and that my parents would be crushed if they learned that their little girl works until 5am every day because they finally lost the war. I think that it has be awful that I can’t seem to think of a person I could say all this too. My words fall not on ears but a screen, in a box with a scroll bar that keeps reducing in size as these terrible thoughts seize my mind. I wish my boyfriend was here to make me feel better, because as much as it pains me to say something so cliche and trite, his arms really are the safest place for me - where my only worries are whether or not all boys sweat this much and how late I will be to do my next ‘to-do’ if he keeps squeezing me this way. I think, if he were here, that he would scoop me up and ask if I wanted to eat ice cream. I know that I would hesitate a little bit in fear of seeming childish before I nod kind of excitedly. It makes me smile thinking about it, and again, I realize how lucky I am and want to delete this entire blog post all together. And as always, it all ends with me being a hopeless lover with a sleeve full of emotions. Sometimes I think I was born to be living in a world of rainbows and unicorns and I really hate myself. I still really hate myself actually, because if I hadn’t wasted the last hour analyzing my uncompromising feelings, I could have called him before he fell asleep and would feel at least slightly better about being a poor 21 year old who jaded long before her time. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

Holy Shit

Reality recently hit me. I'm basically an adult now. It didn't hit me until I went to my first day of school yesterday. For the previous two years, I've been living on campus and just coming back home for the summer. Now that I'm commuting from home, everything seems so different... more real.

I guess this is how the real world feels; living a few miles away from all your friends instead of living in the same building or even just across campus from one another. I no longer belong to that environment of quasi-reality, where everyone lives within this small bubble between childhood naivety and the unfiltered reality. It feels weird. It feels kind of sad.  I realized that childhood isn't a part of life that gracefully fades away, but something that you one day just realize is no longer a part of you. It's not scary, just sad and brings up a sense of nostalgia.

This year didn't start off as exciting as last year, and last year wasn't as exciting as my freshman year. We're truly adults now and it's surprising. In just a little over a year, I'll either have a full-time job or be living in the streets. One of my friends will give birth to her baby in less than a year... She'll be giving birth to the next generation, the generation that will take our place.  No more will there be three month summer vacations. Instead, there will be the two weeks per year sort of vacations.

Life shouldn't be like that. It shouldn't feel like this... Why does it feel like a part of my life is ending? I no longer feel the excitement I felt when high school ended, where I looked forward to what was coming next. Now, I just await the uncertainty of the coming tomorrows.

I Went Blond

As the title says, I went blond. I made a friend at work the other day. We sat at the same table during our group exercise, and we bonded over the fact that we went to the same school.

Yesterday, when she said she wanted to dye her hair, I jumped on the chance and said I wanted to as well. We picked up a few items at a beauty supply store after work and went to her dorm to do it. I looked pretty silly wearing nothing but my pants, a garbage bag over my torso, and a grocery bag over my head (I couldn't risk getting my clothes dyed and I brought no spare since it was all spontaneous).

It's welcome week, so everyone at my friends' dorm was new and every five or so minutes, someone just had to come by and say hello. And what did they see? Some boy in a garbage bag and a plastic bag for a head wrap sitting at the corner of a girl's dorm room watching Futurama. If I was on the other side of the situation, I would have done the same thing each of them did: look for a few seconds too long and look away without mentioning it. 

Anyways, the plan was to lighten my hair a bit with bleach before dyeing it a light auburn brown, so the purple-reddish hues of the color would be more prominent. We thought the color would lighten to just a simple shade of chestnut brown. Once I took off the bag, my head was golden yellow. I decided against using the hair dye for a few days just to see if I like the blond effect. What do you all think?

And to think that I did all this with a girl I met less than 48 hours ago. This will be a very interesting semester.

Finding my Center... All Over Again

It's been a while since my last legitimate post. After my last blog entry (not including the second part of my story about Dylan), which was about Brandon, I felt like I needed some time away. Writing these blog entries mandates me to put my emotions and thoughts to the forefront of my consciousness. Writing prohibits me from suppressing the resulting affects of day to day events in my life, which can be too much to handle at times. . I thought about writing each and every day since my last entry last March, but I felt like I still needed time to just let my mind rest. For the past few weeks, I've felt like I was overstimulated by everything around me: the end of a friendship/relationship, financial pressures, academic deadlines, etc. I just needed time to let things be without having to dwell on them or analyze them, which is what writing inclines me to do. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it was too much for me to handle.

In any case, here's an update on my life...

Brandon
Brandon (a.k.a B) is out of my life for good. A day or so after my last entry in early March, I had to finally stand up for myself. I was being pushed around by his uncertainty and fickleness. One day he would tell me he loved me, then the next day he would try to change the subject when I would bring up the topic. When he tried to communicate with me after a three-week silence, which he imposed (blocking me from any way of contacting him), he told me that he wanted me to forgive him and that he still loved me. The next day, when I told him that I still had feelings for him, he couldn't/wouldn't respond; I knew that something was wrong at that point. He then retracted what he said the previous night and showed no remorse for it. The next few days, I still felt like I was chasing after him just to have him pay attention to me. It was a ridiculous situation since it was he that begged for my forgiveness a few days earlier.

I knew that things would never progress between us, so I let out all my frustrations. I told him that he was fickle and didn't know what he wanted. That he had no reason to tell his friends and his mother that I broke his heart by not accepting his professed feelings for me (i.e. he told me he loved me) a mere two weeks of knowing one another. Whether it was his intention or not, he defamed me to his friends even though at the end of the day, I made the right choice. He had no right to say anything about me, whatsoever, since I was right from the very beginning: he did not know what he wanted. To his friends, he portrayed himself as someone who wanted true love and as if it was me who deprived him of such an opportunity.  However, when I was finally willing to give him my heart, it was he who stated, "I don't know what I want. I'm sorry." It was also frustrating and upsetting for him to tell me that his mother hated me because I had hurt him for not accepting his affection, which were in retrospect, apocryphal. I felt as if complete blame was unreasonably put on me, when I made the right choice to tell him the truth: I did not have feelings for him when he told me he loved me after only knowing me for two weeks. Yes, my feelings for him did develop after that point, yet he still couldn't let go of his past resentment for me.

In the end, he continued to firmly hold onto his beliefs. He continued to believe that he was in the right and that I was the enemy. He rejected any form of reason other than his own. He felt hurt, therefore whoever hurt him was universally bad. On the other hand, any transgressions of his own were to be left unacknowledged or completely denied. Total bullshit. That's when I knew he was delusional and psychologically maladaptive. It bothers me that he will continue to say bad things about me to his friends and they will actually believe him, and they're actually not bad people... However, if they would unconditionally believe what he says without personally getting to know me, then that's bad on their part.

Academic
 Since my last blog entry, I actually dropped my Italian minor and took on a second major. I think that having two major degrees is better than having one major and one minor degree. Also, the latter option would have required me to take summer classes to finish on time (i.e. graduate with the class of 2013), whereas the former can be completed on time without having to take summer classes. So now, I am a Psychology and Advertisement/PR double major. I decided that I could pursue foreign language studies independently. Nonetheless, I have enjoyed the Italian class I am currently in and my peers have acknowledged my abilities (as they've often come to me for help)... I guess being raised bilingual, then taking French for seven years helps. Hah! I guess you can say that I'm working on being quadrilingual? 

I am also glad to say that I've been accepted into my school's study abroad program in Rome, Italy, which will allow me to study at my university's own Rome campus. I'll be studying there from January 2012 up til May 2012. My mother is also excited and is surprisingly more supportive than I thought she would be. I actually thought she'd be against the idea since I would be more than the ~10 mile distance I currently am from her and the rest of my family (try thousands). With my family's support, it has made me more excited about studying abroad and it makes this prospective experience seem more of a reality to me. 

Family
My family has been surprisingly more supportive than I would have ever expected. My previous conversations with my mother have been quite relaxed. At one point, she caught me off guard when she mentioned me possibly finding an Italian lover and getting excited about. I would have never expected her to initiate such a topic or mention something so... explicitly gay? Hah! I must say though, it's a relief to hear that my mother has completely accepted me for who and what I am. Of course, it will take some time to completely open up to her; it'll take some time to unravel a decade's effort of trying to hide facet(s) of my identity.

Recently, I've also felt a personal desire to spend more time with my family. Along with feeling that I can show them more of my "true" self, I no longer feel like I have to keep my distance. Also, I've realized that my baby sister is growing up and I want to be there for her. This point in her life is quite vital in her personal development and as her older sibling I do have the personal desire to help guide her. I know that it kind of sounds sappy and it's a sentiment that I would have never expected to come from me, but it's true. Perhaps I'm growing as a person and caring for those other than myself? That's a good thing, right? Doesn't that fit into one of Erikson's psychodevelopmental stages? 

Work
At the end of March, I got hired as a retail associate at a clothing store. I was very excited considering that I finally got a job in fashion retail and will (hopefully) no longer work in the food industry. Of course, on my first day, I already felt like quitting. I was afraid that my new coworkers would already have high expectations of me and consider me a failure for not knowing what to do. I feared that even if I would explain to them that it was my first retail job, they'd still consider me incompetent and a bother. Luckily, before coming in to work, I went to get some coffee with Dylan, who eased my first day jitters on the job.


Fortunately, my expectations for my first day were completely wrong. Everyone was very friendly and went out of their way to introduce themselves to me. Whenever an associate was close by, he/she would come up to me and ask if I was doing all right and if I had any questions. It was overwhelming to try and take in everything while also trying to provide assistance to customers (i.e. doing my job), but I couldn't have asked for a better first day.

I've been working at the clothing store for 3-4 weeks now. I'm still trying to take things in, but for the most part, I feel myself more at ease. Of course, I do find myself feeling mentally and physically exhausted at the end of the day for pay that really isn't up to par with the work being done. Also, with any job in fashion retail, I've found myself crossing paths with coworkers that believe themselves to be superior, therefore they don't feel it necessary to make eye contact when I speak to them. It's funny because I'm doing the same job as them, at the same place, and probably for similar pay. The customers can be assholes too, but what can you expect? Many of them never worked a minimum wage job, therefore they probably don't even see associates as people. Nonetheless, I tell myself that whatever I'm not receiving in monetary gain, I'm attaining through work experience. My current job is a mere stepping stone for what I want to go into as a career. God forbid, I wouldn't want to be a sales associate working minimum wage after the age of 25.


What do I want to for a career exactly? Well, the dream would be to find a starting position in an advertisement/PR firm or something relating to fashion, advertisement, and travel. Perhaps I can use my multilingual abilities to good use. No matter what though, I don't want to be working in minimum wage sales, whether it be in the food or fashion retail industry, five years from now. 


Love
At the present moment, I am single. I'm all right with being single. I actually prefer to be single for the time being. My thought is that since I'm leaving for Rome in about 7 months, it would be unwise to seek/start a relationship. When I leave for Rome, I want self discovery to be the center of my trip/adventure. Sure, a relationship wouldn't necessarily hinder me from achieving that goal. However, realistically, starting a relationship then turning it into a long-distance relationship within the first year would be detrimental. I'd rather wait, but who knows? If I do find a potential lover and we hit it off this summer, it's something I'll definitely allow to run its course, but I wouldn't seek it out. Love is something you should never prevent or intentionally seek out. If it happens, it happens.

Currently, I do have my eyes set on a guy. He's sweet, intelligent, cute, and has a good head on his shoulders. I'll keep specific details under wraps for now, but if my interest in him does develop further and it becomes a mutual interest, then I'll let you all know. 


Overall
My life is moving forward at a tolerable and satisfactory pace. Things are going the way they should. Although, I know that I can and should put more effort towards my academic endeavors, which I will. At this point, the best I can do is enjoy life and live it.

I Feel Degraded

For the past two weeks I have been trying to get into this certain professor's Italian-101 course. I wasn't able to simply register into the class since the class was full by the time I could register for classes for this semester. When I spoke with the professor at the beginning of the semester (i.e. two weeks ago), she told me that she can't do anything during the first week since it's add/drop week. She suggested that I come to each class, participate, try to get in the class if a seat opens during the first week, and if not, she'll see what she can do the following week.

After a week of going to an 8am class at below 10 degree weather every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and participating as if I was actually registered for the class, the professor tells me to talk to the chairperson of the department. When I spoke with the chairperson, he told me to pick up a course add/drop override form from the dean's office, get it signed by the professor, and he'd sign it. When I went to the dean's office/advisory office, they told me they no longer used the form that the chairperson was talking about and all they'd need is a signed notice signifying permission from the chairperson. I tried to go back to the department chairperson's office to explain what the advisory office had told me, but he was no longer there. Afterward, I e-mailed the professor and told her the whole situation with the chairperson wanting a documentation of her permission and that the advisory office just needed the chairperson's permission. So in essence, all I needed was for the professor to e-mail the chairperson, who can then give me a documentation of his permission, which I could pass on to the dean's office. Of course, the professor didn't reply to my e-mail, but the e-mail system my school runs on showed that she had opened it an hour after I sent it.

After going through that whole situation, I came to class, participated, and tried to talk to the professor again after class. I asked her if she had received my message and what she thought I should do. She said that she'll talk to the department chair, then she said, "You better not make me regret this. You're making a lot more work for me. You better not make me regret doing this," in this annoyed tone. In my head I was thinking, "Is she threatening me? I get to class every morning before anyone else does, I actually am the one to turn on the lights in class, and I participate as much (if not more than) any of her registered students just to prove my commitment." I felt so degraded as if I was an unnecessary inconvenience to her. Yes, I know that adding one more student to a closed course can add a little bit more workload for her like grading an extra quiz/exam, getting participation from one extra student, adding one more name to her roster, but was it really necessary for her to make me feel like I was wasting her time? Did she really have to threaten me?

Today, I went to class again, participated, and tried to talk to her and ask her what's going on with the whole situation. My exact words to her were, "***** I was wondering about the course override." She replied, "What about it?" I responded, "Well, I was wondering if I've been registered in your class?" She replied, "Well, non, you told me that you were confused as to whether a course add/drop form would be necessary. Once you find out, get back to me." Again, in my mind, I was thinking, "Why is she being so apprehensive towards me? Didn't she say that she would talk to the department chairperson herself?" I felt like I was just slapped in the face. I felt so low at that point.

A little later, I went to the advisement office and talked to another advisor. I explained the whole situation to him, how I've basically been passed around from one school administrator to another and with no answers. In the end, the advisor basically just told me what I've been hearing the past few days I've tried to settle this whole situation, "Ask the professor to e-mail me saying that she gives you permission." In essence, I've been running around for the past week trying to get some person's permission who only points me to the people who told me to get the former's permission in the first place before the latter gives me theirs.

I'm frustrated and I feel degraded by these people. How can these people call themselves educators? They're so blinded by the bureaucracy that they lost sight of their main goal: to teach and nurture students' education. All that these people have done is humiliate me and belittle my desire to learn. I want to get into a class because I want to learn. I have been sitting and participating in the class every Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 8am and getting there before anyone else, so they can't tell me they don't have a seat for me; I've been sitting in one. I cannot believe that these people can pride themselves in the notion that they're positively influencing the futures of students. I want to learn. I am committed to learn. I have been trying to prove that to them, but all they do is pass me on to someone else because none of them want to send the simple e-mail to one other person among them with a statement as simple as, "Kenneth has permission to be in this class." Instead, they prefer to have me run around between each of them, nod my head, accept some bullshit excuse that the previous person also gave, and go back and forth with the same message.

These people are not educators. They do not deserve to take pride in such a title.

Why I Want to Study Abroad

The following is something that I wrote for the essay portion of my study abroad application. Of course, I could have elaborated on a few things, but there is a one page (double-spaced) limit on the essay, unfortunately... Anyways, any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, thanks!

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Being a part of the world is a concept that can be described as gaining an awareness of what makes one different from others and finding common ground. By allowing myself to gain experience outside of the community/environment I am so accustomed to and experience things that are unfamiliar, perhaps even contrary to my own ideals, I will gain a higher level of reverence and awareness for a world outside of my own. Also, with faculty and peer support that emphasizes on the concept of “cura personalis” (i.e. caring for the whole person), I am certain that I will have the confidence and courage to strive for success whether it be in my community or abroad.
    Most people never get the chance to see a world outside of their own neighborhood. Studying abroad is an opportunity that holds a sense of adventure that many people never experience; it is an opportunity that I do not want to regret ever passing me by. As a Loyola University Chicago student, I know that I have other study abroad options such as Aix-en-Provence or Beijing. Nevertheless, I desire to study at the John Felice Rome Center in Rome, Italy because it will give me enough exposure to a culture so interestingly different from my own, but still provide me the comfortable atmosphere of home that I feel at Loyola’s Lakeshore Campus.
    Studying at the John Felice Rome Center would enable me to learn and grow as a person at a level deeper than what I can ever imagine. With Loyola University Chicago’s focus on helping students improve through individual care and attention, as embodied by the latin phrase “cura personalis,” I am certain that Loyola University Chicago’s John Felice Rome Center is the right place for me to grow as a person of virtue and as a compassionate citizen of the world.

Can't I Just Get with an Italian?

Well, here I am, sitting outside my desired Italian class. Unfortunately, the class had filled to capacity before I could register for the class. I e-mailed the professor that I wanted, but she never replied back. I was planning on just going to the class (basically crashing it) and talking to her before class. I was expecting her to be in the designated classroom before any students arrived (I woke up really early to get to the class early enough), but she arrived latter than everyone else. Also, I didn't know what she looked like, so that made it much harder to flag her down. I only realized who she was when she loudly said, "Bongiorno," as she entered her class. I thought it was too late to get her attention at that point, considering that there were students already in the classroom and I felt uncomfortable hassling her in front of her legitimate students asking her to take me in. Hah!

Anyways, here I am, sitting outside her class hoping to get her attention and speak to her after her class. As I am sitting here, I can hear her solely speaking in Italian to her students; it's pretty intimidating. (And to think that it's an Italian 101 class!) She's already teaching her students how to say certain things and now it makes me wonder whether it'd even be worth it to try to get into her class. I'd be a day behind.

My reason for wanting to get into her class is legitimate, right? There are only four sections of the class in session for this semester and each one of them is up to capacity. This specific professor's class is the only one that fits into my schedule without causing any conflicts. It's my minor and even if I get into this 101 class this semester, I'll still have to take one during a summer session to fit in six credit courses of Italian to fulfill my minor requirement. Also, from what I've heard she's the most enthusiastic and the most helpful of the Italian instructors, so why wouldn't I want to get into her class... right? So what else can I do? If I wait another semester to get into an Italian 101 class, I will have to take a class of Italian during the summer for two consecutive summers. We shall see what happens... :(

Back to School: With Pictures!

I got back to my dorm yesterday and I'm the first out of all three roommates. Neither of my roommates are back yet, but I'm assuming that they'll be here by tonight (tomorrow's our first day of classes). Even though I couldn't wait to get back to the city, leaving home was somewhat bittersweet. Even though I'm not that close to any of immediate family members, I felt somewhat sad about leaving. Anyways, my parents were (and still are) out of the country while I was back home in suburbia with my older sister, so all I did was sleep, eat, and laze around. It actually came to the point where I started to get muscle aches due to muscle disuse atrophy. Even though I felt a tinge of sadness from leaving, I'm glad to be back in the city where trains and buses are relatively dependable, more diverse restaurants are close by, etc. There's just so much more to do in general. I came back with a notice on the kitchen sink noting that the kitchen sink is being fixed, that sucked.

The view from one of our windows. That's my James Dean portrait. Currently, I'm attempting to read two different books, Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy and The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers.

My desk with all the books I need for this semester. On the right side of the shelves is my DVD collection consisting of Breakfast at Tiffany's, La Vie en Rose, Roman Holiday, Sex and the City: Seasons 5 and 6 (Part 1 and 2), and many others. I also have a jar of condoms on the top shelf and the game Dirty Minds, which I got as a gift and have yet played.

This is our kitchen. My roommate eats a lot of cereal; those boxes of cereal on top of the fridge are all his. Even though we have a stove top and oven, for some reason I'm the only one who actually cooks.

My roommates and I share a bedroom. Can you guess which bed is mine?

Anyways, now that I'm back at my "second home" and school resumes tomorrow, I had to pick up my books. It's upsetting how expensive college textbooks are. It's even more upsetting when an author/publisher comes out with a new edition, therefore making the preceding edition worthless and a student would be unable to sell back their book. It's distressing because a student in general pays about $100-$200 in books per class on average (assuming that each class uses a textbook). When a student tries to sell their books at the end of the semester and discover that the publisher has come out with a new edition, therefore their $100-$200 book has no value at the bookstore, it's upsetting and unfair. Correcting one typo (i.e. misspelled word) in a textbook can be considered a new edition, which is totally absurd and unfair; publishers are taking advantage of students that are already thousands of dollars in debt!

I got my books this morning and the total cost was $640.46. I bought five of my books and rented six of them; I opted for used copies depending on availability. I allegedly saved $277.49 by renting more than half of my books. If I chose to buy all of my books, it would have cost me $917.95. Anyways, what can you do other than oblige?In any case, let's just hope that I put them to good use. The classes I bought the books for are as follows:

MWF: ITAL-101: Italian I, MATH-131: Applied Calculus 1, PSYC-349: Psychology of Maturity and Aging, PSYC-338: Psychology of Religion
TuTh: SOCL-245: Sociology of Religion, PSYC-306: Research Methods

This semester, I want to do as well as last semester, if not better. I'm also planning on being more active on campus (i.e. joining and participating in clubs) and find a job. I need to start saving up if I want to make my study abroad trip to Italy in two semesters a reality. I just hope I can juggle all this. I think I can. Wish me luck!

Worries or the Lack Thereof

It's finals week and everyone's stressing out until their eyes are bloodshot... Well, except for me that is. It's kind of odd actually, perhaps even concerning, that I'm not worried about finals like everyone else is. Is it due to my own shortcomings and laziness or do I really see no reason to worry?

I've been like this for the past few years. Even my high school guidance counselor told me that I'm just more laid-back than other students, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I remember when everyone was freaking out about college applications when I was a senior in high school; people were running all over the place during the first week of school to ask their teachers for recommendations. I didn't even ask for teacher recommendations until a month or so after everyone started. I definitely didn't start my application essays until a week or so before they were due. Choosing which schools I "wanted" to go to was pretty laid-back as well, perhaps half-assed is a better word. Frankly, I just didn't understand why everyone was freaking out. What freaked me out was the fact that I wasn't initially freaking out like everyone else. Ironic, wasn't it? Perhaps I should have been freaking out like everyone else and lit a fire under my own but. Maybe a tad bit of worry could have been a great motivation in being proactive. Who knows? Perhaps I could have gotten into my reach school if I had done so.

Anyways, I find myself in a similar situation with finals and I've recently become quite cognizant of it: with the lack of worry, should I be alarmed or should I be relieved? For the past few days I've just been hanging out with my friends, eating out, smoking, and just keeping one another company. When I have a final, I just look over my previous notes a few hours beforehand then I take it. Frankly, I don't see what else I can do to prepare. I believe that either you understand the material and a test will assess that or you don't, nothing more, nothing less. Clearly, with people cramming and studying like they've never before during the semester, it makes me question: Are they worrying too much or am I the one that should be worried?

College Student: Laziness, Procrastination, and Everything Else in Between

I'm broke. I'm a broke college student. Why am I a broke college student? With quitting my job in food service along with my unchanged rate/pace of consumption, no wonder.

I previously wrote about my foolish and impulsive spending. Since then, I don't really think I've stopped. With Black Friday recently passing, who can blame me? Myself, of course. In any case, it wasn't even the Black Friday spending that is digging my financial hole; I only spent $20 towards my Black Friday shopping. Sex & the City Season 6: Part 1 and 2? Hell yea, I wasn't going to let such an opportunity pass me by! Of course I went online to buy the fifth season the day after, so make that $30. I'm buying the seasons in reverse order (I find the later seasons to be fat more entertaining). Agh, too much consumption, not much earning (if at all).

As you all know, I am determined on going to Rome for a semester next year. I guess I should reflect on said determination and reinforce it. I still feel myself slacking. I had quit my job in food service a few months ago because I said I wanted to focus on volunteer and academic work. Where am I now? No job, no volunteer work, and I have a few papers to write that are due at the end of this week.

I'm insane, lazy, a procrastinator, definitely. It seems as if my productive effort rises and falls with my workload (i.e. the less work I have, the less I actually do). Why can't it stay at a constant rate where the less work I have, the faster I get things done and the more time I actually have to improve? I'd rather have my spending directly reflect my financial state and have my productiveness stay at a constant level no matter what, not the other way around. I can't take on a job or even do volunteer work if I can't stay on top of the workload I have now. I have friends that work thirty hours a week and have academic work to go along with that. What am I doing? Watching television shows over the internet, masturbating, cooking, eating, or shopping. Quite shameful. I need to be more productive.

So what's wrong with me? Do I have Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) where I can't sit still and I must always be doing something stimulating (more stimulating than reading a book)? Or am I just lazy? Before I attempt to attach an external cause to my problem, I should see what I'm doing wrong. I have the time to finish all my work in a timely manner, but I always push things to the last minute. I hate to say it, but it gives me a rush of excitement when I'm under pressure, I feel more focused when the clock is ticking, but of course it doesn't lead to my best work. I don't feel motivated. I feel obligated more than anything else, and I guess that sense of obligation is what's driving me, which isn't the most efficient source of productive effort. But what can I do to internally motivate myself? Think of Italy, the relief I'd feel when I finish work on time, or the certain decrease in frequency of the stressful on-edge state I am always in?

At this point, I feel so overwhelmed when I quickly think about the work I have to finish within a week's time. But of course, this wouldn't have happened if I had always stayed on task. Well, there's no time like the present to accomplish that, is there?

Family: What it Means to Me as a Gay Teen

So it's Thanksgiving tomorrow, I have the rest of the week off from school. Both of my roommates left yesterday afternoon after their last class. I, on the other hand, am staying at the dorms, which is what I did last year.

My family was never really the type that celebrated the holidays. It's not necessarily something that we decide not to do, but something that just comes to be. My mother is a nurse, therefore she's often at work on the holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.). I would say that mother is the center figure, the anchor of our family and for her not to be present, it just wouldn't have made sense for my siblings and I to do something without her. In any case, in previous years my older siblings were often with their friends during the holidays and I would be at home with my younger sister and father. Often, we would be in our rooms watching television and treating it like any other day.

If I were to go home for Thanksgiving, the lack of a celebration would be more evident, more upsetting. For me to go home and see my family and me proceed with the day as if it was any other day, knowing how it would differ with what my friends are doing, it's too upsetting, it makes me envious of my friends. I don't like that feeling. Sitting here, thinking about it, and writing about it, it's much more upsetting than I realized. It's upsetting to bring to the foreground the feeling of how my family seems so cold, distant, and depressing, especially during this time of the year.

Yes, the holidays are about being with family and loved ones, but I feel more upset, depressed, and frustrated when I am at my parents'. Yes, they are my family, but I do not feel at home when I am there. I feel a mere obligation to be present when I am with family. It saddens me because when I think of my family, I think of my little sister and how this could all be affecting her. I remember being in first grade when one of my older sisters stopped walking me to school; I felt so sad. The fact that I remember that moment to this day, it makes me realize how intense the feeling of sadness really was. So I wonder how my little sister feels when her siblings have fled the nest, with parents that would rather have her cooped up at home than to have her running around outside because of the small risk of falling and getting a scratch or bruise.

I know that I could go home for my little sister, that it is a reason to return. I know that I could be there for her, considering how the feeling of concern is present. Nonetheless, I've decided to keep my distance, for my sake. I do not feel at home in that house anymore. I do not feel the desire to be there. Yes, I love my family, but I never found the connection I always yearned to have with them without risking my freedom as an individual. I don't think I ever will.

My parents had always been the type that would rather have their children at home than to explore the world. My parents believed in being home with the family and taking care of the household rather than to be in extracurricular activities. Due to this, I never joined a club at school. I was always too afraid to defy my parents, to feel like I was neglecting my duties at home. Of course, I could have defied my parents at any given time, but I knew that the best I could do was to be obedient until I could leave of my own accord. In my mind I believed that obeying my parents' every whim would be better for me than to defy them. I had known that I am gay since I was twelve or thirteen years old, so to defy them meant putting myself at odds with them even more.

I guess my homosexuality did play a big part in how my connection with my family poorly developed. I kept to myself thinking that it would be easier for me to be hurt if I tried to get close to them. For the whole duration of my time living in that house from the time I realized I was gay to when I finally left for college and had yet to come out to them, I felt it would be best to keep my distance. I never told them of my hopes and dreams, what made me happy, what made me sad, or anything. My parents were the type that imposed their identity, their desires, and themselves on us. There have been times that I was emotionally hurt by them and with me keeping my sexuality as a secret from them, it amplified the pain even more. I believed that if I got too close and they found out about my sexuality, they'd use it against me, the way they used it against my older sister (who currently has a live-in girlfriend). I did not want to go through what my older sister went through, so I bet my tongue and kept quiet.

It was not until I had left for college that they realized how much distance I wanted from them. For the first few months I ignored all phone calls and the sort from them. I wanted to establish my independence and individuality, but with them always calling me, asking me when I would come home just to be home, I started to resent them. I started to hate them for trying to hold me back, to keep me in a place I did not want to be or have a purpose being in. It was not until I kept myself away for so long that they realized that I could survive without them. It was not until I separated myself from them that they realized how I was not afraid to leave of my own accord. I was the first one of all my siblings to move out. It was not until I had moved out that one of my older sisters moved out to live with her girlfriend; I was proud of her when she finally did it. My father was a hypocrite, always threatening to kick us out or that we could leave if we wanted to. When I finally left to challenge his threat and moved out, he was the one that protested. So hypocritical, so pathetic.

I don't know. At this point, I wonder, perhaps it would have been better to defy them sooner. To this day, even though I have distanced myself from them, I still feel as if I have yet to allow myself to truly live. I feel as if I've locked myself in my own cage and I don't know where I've placed the key. I want to change that, I want to be completely free from their superimposing influence and I'm trying.

I will end this post right here since I don't really think such a discussion has an ending. It is what it is and we must live with the thoughts and decisions that come with it.

Starving College Student

Sometimes I wonder how that "identity" is defined, to be a starving college student. Literally it's defined as a college-aged kid who has financial limitations that makes it difficult for them to purchase certain necessities. But then I wonder, from my own experiences and from those I see around me, do we put ourselves in this situation more than we are externally put in it? It seems so easy to accept the implication that it's a situation that we are put into without choice, but then I reflect on the choices I make and how my priorities are pretty screwed up.

To start off, I can spend about $30-$40 on groceries per week and it would actually be a pretty good deal if I'm smart about it. For $30-$40 I could buy a few non-perishable goods that would actually be more nutritious compared to the food they serve on campus (e.g., rice, beans, poultry, vegetables, etc.). Unfortunately, instead of spending money on food, I often find myself spending money on shit I don't necessarily need nor would these things benefit me (e.g., alcohol, tobacco, extra clothing/accessories, etc.). It's quite sad that I hesitate on the purchases that are ultimately beneficial and necessary for me, yet I don't give it a second thought when I buy alcohol or a pair of gloves (when I already have a pair). So in a sense, I'm a starving college student by a matter of unwise and regrettable choices.

Let's take last night for example. I spent ~$32 on a pair of H&M gloves, ~$7 on McDonald's, $10 for a cup for "unlimited alcohol", and ~$6 on Burger King. Overall, I spent ~$55 on shit I could have lived without. That $55 and so cents could have been used in much wiser and more beneficial ways. Is it buyer's remorse? Perhaps. And I wonder, why don't I give such purchases a second thought? No one's pressuring me to buy these things, yet I find myself doing so. When I try to reflect on it, I can't help but think how it may be connected to my self-esteem. I now believe that somehow my unwise purchases legitimize my self-worth in the eyes of others and in turn, in my own eyes.

I want to change this habit of mine. It sucks that I keep on looking back and regretting my purchases from last night and how foolish I have been with my money, but there's nothing more I can do other than move on forward. I need to keep in mind past actions/behaviors that I regret and put in the conscious effort to prevent them. I literally am a poor college student, but to consider me starving is a little too extreme. As a poor college student who has wants and desires greater than getting shit-faced a few nights or so a month (such as going to Italy for my Spring semester of junior year), I need to put the conscious effort in setting my priorities straight.

Perhaps getting a job would help too instead of solely depending on the $200 that my parents give me every 3-4 weeks. Perhaps I should keep that in mind as well, the fact that I'm wasting my parents' money so haphazardly without acknowledging the fact that such a monetary amount could be used for a greater necessity than my immediate, impulsive wants.

Online Friends

So I just got back from this guy Dan's house. I recently met him online and we planned to meet up for some coffee or whatnot. Let me digress for a moment by saying that it still feels kind of awkward when I say that I met someone online (and planned to meet them in person). It seems as if there's this social stigma on meeting someone online, yet it's more common than most people think. I understand that some people are uncomfortable with the idea as they think of questions such as, "Why is he looking to meet people online," "what if the guy he's meeting is a creep/homicidal maniac," and other questions similar to those. Yes, I am sure there are people that fit the stereotype of the online stranger with bad/perverse intentions, but I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt. It hasn't gotten me into trouble yet... Except for that one situation with a true sociopath. Coincidentally, he was the only guy my friends approved of. Different story. I'm digressing from my first digression.

In any case, meeting people online enables me to meet those directly outside of my social circle, and by social circle I mean those within three degrees of separation from me. It's an adventure/learning experience, I would say. Overall, I've met people that are around my age, older than me, of different lifestyles, etc. It's interesting to see how I (un)successfully interact with them, what we can learn from one other, and if a friendship could develop. I guess it's very different from how most people do it, where one often meets prospective friends through mutual friends, events attended by both persons, etc. It freaks some people out, but it's an adventure to just dive in and see where my curiosity takes me. It's exhilarating in the sense that I am practicing my agency as an individual to meet others, to not rely on pre-constructed connections, but to actually seek those outside of my current awareness. It's hard to explain in words, it's something that one must experience for himself/herself.

Now, let me get back on topic... I planned to meet up with this guy named Dan, but he got off work pretty late, so we decided to just go over to his place and watch a movie. He showed me around his place, which represented his style really well. The way he dressed and the way his apartment was set up paralleled in style. I would categorize his style as casual, vintage, mildly hipster, but not mainstream-hipster... more like hipster by necessity and not out of pure desire/purchase, if that makes sense. I also learned that he used to work for the same company that I just recently quit from. For some reason I wasn't surprised, his personality seemed to fit the company's stereotypical employee; not a bad thing, just a matter of fact.

We decided to watch The Walking Dead which is this new television series about a man who wakes up in a hospital to a world plagued by zombies. The series' basic plot is based on the day-to-day lives of the survivors of the zombie apocalypse and how they construct/maintain their lives.  What I really like about the show is the fact that zombies don't just come out at you, which is totally different from  most zombie movies. In most zombie movies, you see the zombies come out of nowhere and scare the life out of you, but in this show you see them coming. I like the fact that I don't have to focus on the idea "Oh shit something's going to pop onto the screen any second now" and focus more on the storyline overall. I definitely can't wait to watch the following episodes. I'm a fan.

Obviously, since I'm here writing this, I didn't stay over. He didn't make any moves on me or anything and I'm not the type to make the first move. I didn't want to do anything physical with him anyways and I'm actually glad that he didn't make a move on me. I'm so used to guys verbally expressing themselves as gentlemen, but before the night ends they more than likely try to get something surpassing a kiss. I'm so used to this pattern that I kind of expected it to happen this time, but as I said, I'm glad it didn't. As agreed, I just came over to watch a movie/show and I went home. Coming to think of it, I know you might be saying, "In the past, you could have always told them to stop." That's true, I do have mutual responsibility to what happens to me, but for some reason I don't. Again, that's another story. I must say, though, it was somewhat nerve-wracking having to walk a few blocks through a quiet residential area to get to the train station. I thought that I was going to get attacked by zombies or something... maybe mugged. Fortunately, neither situations happened.

Overall, it had been decent night. I met a new person, got to enjoy a good television show (which I will now start following), and I didn't do anything regrettable.

Les Amis

So, it's technically about an hour into Tuesday, but I'll be writing this post as if it's still Monday. I'm tired and I know I should go to sleep, but I thought I'd write a thing or two; I'd feel so frickin' guilty if I get out of habit of writing... as I did in my previous attempts to restarts my blog(s).

Anyways, today (Monday) was a pretty decent day. Went to all my classes, which I am really proud of. Realized that perhaps I should take more responsibility for my actions and not ditch one class to finish my homework/projects for another; I should just suck it up and accept the consequences of my laziness and procrastination. Anyways, I just thought of this: it's easier for my to ditch class in order to finish a project for another class rather than to go to my class empty-handed since the saliency of being in a class empty-handed feels more shameful compared to one's absence from class, where there is no imposing consequence. Anyways, yea, there's my academic ramble.

Today, I met up with a high school buddy of mine, someone I haven't talked to since my Freshman year of high school. We lost contact for various reasons, mainly because he was an annoying, immature prick at that point. Luckily, it seems like he has changed. He's more considerate, friendly, socially mature, and definitely way hotter. I asked him if I had changed since he last saw me five or so years ago. He said no, which I suspected since I look in the mirror and still see the same kid from five years ago, whereas he seems to have improved so much: physically and personality-wise. I guess in a way I want to improve myself too, I don't want to be the same kid I was back then. Sure, retrograding isn't a problem, but I also don't want to just stay stagnant. I feel like I've gotten through life by being decent looking, average intelligence, etc. I want to look back five years or even a year from now and see major positive improvements in myself: I want to reach my fullest potential, which I don't believe I have. I know confidence plays a big role as well since it seems like confidence gives people a certain glow to them, something I think I once had.


I guess, at this point, I need to put action behind my words.
Kenny

Family

I'm currently visiting my family back in the suburbs. It's been about three weeks since I've come to see them. To tell you the truth, it's a little more stressful to be here. I feel more constrained and upset when I'm here. Just too much negative energy I guess.

I recently quit my food service just because I felt like my heart was no longer in it and I didn't really feel like it's leading me anywhere. I thought it'd be best to focus more on possibly looking for some volunteer work or internships that would be more relevant to my current field of study (psychology).

Once I told my mother that I had quit from my job, she was actually pretty elated. She never really liked the idea of me working, some sort of maternal pride I guess. But in any case, she told me that she'd financially support me and that I should focus on my academic work.

And now, here we are, dear reader, sitting in my parent's dining room. Well, at least I am, but you know what I mean. Just found out that my parents are claiming bankruptcy, so that pretty much made me worry of my own finances; the word bankruptcy pretty much contradicts what my mother said about financially supporting me while I'm in school. I should start looking for a job.

But in any case, here I am. It has been at least 24 hours since I had gone to sleep. Why you might ask? Due to an illness I have called procrastination. No early onset symptoms, but when it gets to a cyclic stage called "DUE DATES" bags under the eyes due to all-nighters, coffee-stained teeth, and skin just looking really dreadful due to the lack of sleep and overdose in caffeine. I jest. I'm sure you knew that.

Kind of ironic though that I finished my paper just on time only to realize that my professor pushed the deadline back by 24 hrs. Silly Billy. In any case, yea, let's leave it at that.

Qui Suis-Je?

Who am I?

Am I an asshole, a bitch, a charmer, an altruistic man? Can't I be all of that at one point or another? Perhaps all at the same time? I must admit though, it was far more difficult for me to come up with positive descriptions like "altruistic man" than to come up with "asshole" or "bitch". Perhaps it means something? Perhaps not. Who knows.

But seriously, who am I?

People will surely put labels on us in order to convince us that we are who they think we are.  But is that what our identities are contingent upon? Partially? Wholly? They say that people outside of ourselves are more accurate in reading who we are. What does that mean really? Our personalities, our intentions, or who they think we are in terms of their own affects? If it's the last one, then are they really that much more accurate in identifying who we are than we are in identifying ourselves?

Honestly, at this point, I guess I'm just rambling. I apologize, let me get back on the subject. What I'm saying is, I want to stop perceiving the words of others as truth and fact in terms of who I am. I want to look within myself and meet and learn the person that I inherently am before I let others define me. Is that possible though? Is it possible to find ourselves in an internal vacuum of mental space, absent of labels, external influence, and the sorts and find our true, innate self-interests? Or are we truly constructs of our social interactions?

Perhaps the latter is true, but that doesn't mean the former is absolutely false, right? I guess in a sense, with both questions combined, my question is: Am I strong enough to mold the person I am with just as much (if not more) certainty and conviction as others do in their attempts to mold those outside of themselves?

I guess that's a question that you, dear reader, will accompany me in finding the answer to.