Back to Korea. Happily, Yellow Dust Season also coincides with Spring. So there were millions of little pink cherry blossoms blowing about. Made for some great pictures. I remember when I got this roll of film developed, the man behind the counter*who spoke almost no english* seemed really concerned that all of my pictures of Korea were sad or nasty looking. He then proceeded to give me a stack of photos of someone's garden out in the country. There was a lake, reeds and a sickening white picket fence. I think they even managed to jam a cherry red bicycle in. I just smiled and told him thanks, but I cherish my dirty photos so much more than some sap you churned up. Times when I was happy for a language barrier +1.
I end up caring about my meaningless job, hoping that when I apply to actually do something relevant to my studies and experience, that I have a realistic chance of getting the position, that my experience and qualifications actually matter. That my ability to meet deadlines and tow my own weight, to be proactive and look to meet needs and get shit done would be seen as assets.
Fucking bullshit session timed out, stole my blog entry.
'You cannot post this entry because you're not part of the discussion or POSTDATA or some bullshit.'
You want the short can't-let-the-session-time-version? Here it fucking is:
I left the house last night, like an idiot.
I went home regretting leaving the house, because I came back with even more doubt and more self-loathing than I had before I got in the car.
Fuck social interaction.
Fuck having a social life.
Fuck having fair-weather friends too far away to be bothered with me.
My brain is buzzing with too much bullshit to keep track of, and too much time to myself. The insects are crawling out my ears and tearing me apart from the outside in. The ones remaining inside are working their way out through my stomach and eyes and my face make me exhausted, bleary, not-hungry, and aching.
I. am. tired.
No, I don't have another story. No, I'm not going to be fine-just-fine. And no, I don't want to laugh at myself anymore, I've laughed so hard at myself I've caused myself to vomit.
The next time I laugh that hard, I'll hyper-ventilate myself into a state of unconsciousness.
In fact, I might try that now; I desperately need the sleep.
I'm using a new notebook and I can't seem to get the hang of the new keyboard yet. In order to write an interrogation mark, you need to press right alt + W. Really. So I won't be in the chat for some days. Will be lurking in the forum, though.
In the sciences, I am not a saint. I had that beaten out of me on the second lab report we did in complete scientific paper style, down to citations. I was decent at writing papers, and early on got into the habit of supporting my words with references, citing other articles bigger, more badass scientists had done.
Now to Psychology, which I'm treating as Biology Lite. I'm in an upper level course, though it feels more like a 101 course in tone, and in my classmate's primary responses to things. We're told to chew on each other's thoughts and ideas and to respond.
This is where it gets tricky, you see: One of my classmates is butthurt, because she made a rash, blatantly untrue statement, and got corrected for it. (cont.)
I wrote a piece as an audition for the website Elephant Words. It's called "Broke Down" after the photo all participants auditioned from. Check it out here: http://elephantwords.co.uk/category/auditions/