being sarah marie
They love to plant...
Pull, then Push
Savage Minds
The Trick is to...
For the Relief of Unbearable Urges, Nathan Englander
Bad Dirt, Annie Proulx
Brown, Richard Rodriguez
Namesake
Rewind to the present
Two long but fascinating articles about China and ...
I wish I knew where to start or how to begin. Ther...
I guess it's time to start coming out of hiberatio...
Privacy and the Net
Blogging and Free Speech
Month of Discontent
Sister Issues/My Hunger Strike
April 29, 2006
The Letdown
Well, it looks like the unamusing, ironic joke was on me. Not that I was starting to get big-headed from a pleasant social calendar of events for today, but I was at least looking forward to a day of some non-academic fun. Not much fun was to be found.
First of all, the friend who I was supposed to meet in the afternoon never showed up. I got out of work half an hour early just to meet her at the time we scheduled. I stood in this building lobby for a few minutes (mind you a little late already) and she never showed up. I called. She gasped, "Oh my god I completely forgot," and it was a bit awkward but I just kind of laughed it off. She said she'd come, and almost half an hour later she showed up. Oh well, that aside, we had a very nice time catching up.
Then I was supposed to go to allllll these parties. Hmph. A semi-mainstream band preformed in my dorm, and I kind of napped through that/couldn't find anyone to go with me. Then I went with a friend to this house party that I was somewhat forced to attend (well, it can be nice to get that much attention). We got there a little after it was supposed to start and, of course, very few people were there. Hung around for about half-an-hour to forty-five minutes. A lot of people started coming. Air got hot and humid and unbreathable. People started getting drunk. Strangers started to direct weird stares at sober-me and sober-my-friend. Door was blocked by heaps of people... Tried to make a discrete exit, but ruffled a few too many feathers on the way out.
Then we were supposed to meet up with friends in our dorm to go to a party at a frat house right across the street. It was supposed to be an easy way to end the night. This frat is mostly friendly and (compared to others) somewhat low-key. Instead, as we head over there in the nose-diving night temperatures, I find out that they were not actually having a party tonight (I have no clue how this slipped past us). Instead, my other dorm-mates got a ride to another frat that was at least a half-hour walk away. We could not bear walking in the cold that far (all uphill, too). We could not find a ride. Friend got ballsy and started asking strangers on the street for a ride. Of course no one agreed. We ended up arriving back to the dorm before midnight, and so the night ended.
Boo hoo. I'm not one who gets drunk and needs to go crazy to have a good time, but for once I was looking forward to going out and dancing a little. That would have been fun. I can't believe I just missed three opportunities in one night. I feel very pathetic.
The weather is supposed to be nice tomorrow. If I wake up at a decent hour I may walk around campus with my camera and snap some pictures. I want to create a photoalbum entitled "A Geography of Misery" to document where I've spent three years of my life. If I do, it'll probably be up in June...
April 27, 2006
Same 'Ol
Well, there's not much new to report. I have a little more than two weeks until my senior project is due. I'm not very far along, but I think I have a good idea of what I need to do to wrap things up. I think I will try to take the next week off of work at physics so I can have a week of almost uninterrupted writing minus classes.
I can't belive it's almost May already. April went by in an allergic-attack sneeze. The weather was mostly unpleasant; not enough sleep, too much work, and not getting enough done was mostly the norm. I still have quite a bit to do before I leave. Aside from meeting a few people (because I'm already playing phone tag with them, so that's in progress), I'm supposed to snag a couple letters of recommendations before I leave. I suppose it's important if I ever want to get a job or go to graduate school. I just don't have any professors I cared for quite that much, and I'm not sure what anyone could recommend about a student who mostly did not enjoy class--as school has been mostly a boring nuisance to get a college degree.
I've developing a hint of a social life. I'm invited to three parties tomorrow night and I'm supposed to get together with at least one person in the afternoon and let a few others know I can't meet them. It's unfortunate that all this is happening right now that I'm about to leave. Not to mention, of all times, I could really use the lack of a social life now to get all of this work done. The unamusing ironies of life...
April 21, 2006
Itches, Sleep, Theses
This week has been a wreck. Spring is really here and so are all the awful pollens and ragweeds and who knows what. My sleep deprivation and all the allergens in the air have been conspiring to shut me down. What started out as a mild itch, and slight bluish tired-bags, under my eyes escalated into redness, a burning itch, and swelling on the bottom of one of my eye lids.
Sleep has been tougher to come by, too. A tortured soul doesn't sleep too well, plus I've had this nasty statistics exam on my mind, which I dealt with today. Last night was awful, and things didn't get better when two loud alarm clocks across the hall went off at 4 A.M. followed by 5 trips to the bathroom, each involving 2 instances of loud door slamming. Grr.
My thesis is also going nowhere. I hope that now that I've survived my last college midterm (ever!!!) I'll have a little more time to work on it, but that's doubtful. Some of my friends have already turned in their final drafts and I hardly have a rough first one. It's going to be a grueling final stretch, but that's OK. It's a very befitting ending: almost everything I've done here in the last few years has involved forcing myself to do something with no motivation running up against a deadline. My newest distraction/excuse is that I feel like no one but myself gives a damn about my project. And it's very disconcerting since this is the one project I truly designed myself and that I truly believe in. I don't even have an advisor who's cheering me or even mildly enthusiastic about this. He gives me enough feedback, decent feedback and that's it.
OK, well enough ranting. I will try to go to sleep. I'd be so happy if only this darn eye-itch would go away. Ahhh please! Why does such a nice season have to be so painful?
April 18, 2006
Black, White, and FOB
The senior engineering student sat next to me, the one from India--where in that huge, diverse subcontinent I do not know. He was all to ready to call himself "Asian." We had never met before, and faciliated by a mutual friend we went through the motions of an introduction.
I asked him what his major was and he replied "electrical engineering." He asked me the same question, and I replied "College Scholar." A quick silence that I had not even noticed fell upon the table. I stared into my plate, content. I had long ago grown tired of trying to explain to disinterested people my major, my courses of study, my program. Those who asked never seemed to care.
But the two chuckled and the mutual friend commented and complained teasingly that I just blurt out "College Scholar" and expect to move onto the next topic when people really want to know what exactly that means. I giggled a little with them at my evasiveness and then looked at him. With a big deep breath and a calm, methodical, confident voice I began, "I'm studying multiculturalism," I micropaused, "and globalization," micropause, "in the 21st century." Marcopause.
"Multiculturalism," the Indian who calls himself Asian and studies electrical engineering repeated in a heavy, voice as though his CPU was really processing something.
"...in our generation in America." I clarified and finished.
He repeated "multiculturalism" as though almost hypnotized. Everyone has their unglamorous way to change topics from this or brush me aside, I figured this was just his. Instead, though, this was just a prelude to something more serious.
He wanted to know what my thesis was, and he spoke seriously, his voice carrying a gravity that betrayed his ignorance.
I took another breath of air and explained to him that in this program I'm not required to produce an academic paper with a thesis and an argument laid out point by point. I told him that instead I was trying to compile a series of short stories and essays that somehow characterize the topic.
He stared at me for a prolonged second, taking in the bits and bytes that generated my image, but returned no response. Some time lapsed and as we were about to leave the dining hall he mused "multiculturalism" and brought up my project again.
I sensed that he had a deep, unstoppable, magnetic desire to discuss the topic. It was close to home for him, an immigrant to this multicultural nation, an "other." And yet, despite his life experiences that generated insights, itches, and unresolves issues pertaining to this topic, I sensed that perhaps his education had ruthlessly robbed him of a vocabulary and an opportunity to think through these very issues in which his life, his identity, was enmeshed.
Perhaps as a result, when he spoke his words were clutzy and uneloquent, evoking stereotypes and embarrasingly old, vomitted view points; and yet, despite all this he spoke. "I believe that multiculturalism in America should be thought of as a triangle, not just black and white."
I blinked, in my studies I had read about the "pentagon" (i.e. David Hollinger Postethnic America), a view more complex than a black and white, two-dimensional take on multicultural America. There were Hispanics of all sorts, Native Americans of all sorts, Asians of all sorts in addition to the black and white. Moreover, these very five terms are ones I evoke only with the most discomfort; for, each betrays the possible combinations of them and the ocean of diversity waiting to burst from the confining seams of each category.
"There are two Americas," he continued. "There are the blacks who like hip-hop and rap and dress a certain way and play sports like basketball and football, and there are whites who like more classical music or country and play sports like golf, baseball and hockey."
We had left the dining hall and by this point I had wanted to leave conversation too. I could not believe the words that were spoken to me in utmost seriousness; stereotypes, greasy gross generalizations with which I had to deal in "serious" conversation. This is what we constitute serious; a serious conversation on a college campus?
I suggested to him that America is far more than black and white and that even those two categories he constructed are far, far, far cries from a comoprehensive view of reality. For a moment I felt like this engineer's humanities distribution requirement and in the traditional approach of U.S. PC pedagogy I stopped far short of telling him that viewpoints like the one he expressed are not only inaccurate but lead to unfair judgments of people that almost always harm and undermine attempts at intercultural, interracial, interethnic, inter-any-kind-of-difference understanding and tolerance.
Willing to neglect this binary view of multicultural America, he proposed his new theory to me, "After we moved from Asia to America my mother asked me, 'well what are you going to be now in America? Are you going to become black or white or stay FOB (fresh off the boat)?'"
In my mind, my jaw dropped to the floor.
"I think," he continued in all seriousness, "we need to think of multiculturalism as a triangle." He began to mumble something about "FOBs" and how that should represent "Asian" culture, but I could not take it any longer, and I had some place else to be.
"Listen," I told him, hating how I was about to cut this short. I felt like I really was a humanities distribution requirement now--attempting to teach something important and inevitably finishing before my students really learned anything. "This country is so diverse, and the groups in this country are so diverse. You can't just say there are certain people who behave certain ways and like certain things. Be who you want to be. Sure you can pick and chose and embrace things not from your own culture, but ultimately you just have to do, be, what makes you happy."
The thought of hearing his take on "FOB Asian culture" sent shivers up and down my spine as I walked away and fought off involuntary twitches. Yes, let's take the biggest continent on earth and pretend it's one small community, with one religion, one language, one history that makes up one culture: Asian. Time, energy, patience; I did not have what it takes to methodically and sensitively explain these things to him now on the cusp of my graduation during thesis writing-cramming. Instead I rehearsed a common rant in my mind... how universities produce one-dimensional geniuses who for the life of them cannot begin to understand themselves much less the complex societies in which they live. And me... I'm just not the person I had hoped I'd be. Crying shame.
April 16, 2006
She Said
She snapped at me to shut the door because she had something to tell me. She appeared agitated, and nervous, and repeated that she wanted to tell me something. I did as she asked, and let out a nervous chuckle, "Is everything all right?" I always get nervous when people announce to me that they want to say to me something in private before actually doing so.
"I've been very distracted this semester," she began. I could feel a lump starting to form in my throat. She stared at her knees the rest of the time and could barely bring herself to look at me. "I've been very distracted this semester, and it's because of you--because you live right down the hall."
I gulped, not knowing what to say, but she didn't wait for any response.
"We spend so much time together, and I just don't get any work done," she pouted. "And you're leaving in a few weeks!" She tore her bangs out of her ponytail and began to look like a nervous wreck.
"I completely understand," I really did, though I hesitated on what the me-leaving bit had to do with her not getting work done. "Do you want to try to spend less time together? I mean it's fine, if you have to get some work done, I completely understand. I don't want to get in your way and stuff."
"NO!" she almost screeched. I almost jumped back, but I realized my back was already almost against the wall, my hand on the door handle, ready to leave.
"It's just that I have so much work this semester, and I never feel like doing it. This hall is so social and I spend so much time with you." There was that emphasis on me again. "It's just that every time I sit down to do work I want to walk over to your room and say 'hello' to you." My heart sunk a bit in my chest.
I wasn't sure if she was about to confess that she's madly infatuated with me or if she was madly upset about all the time we've been "wasting" together--I dreaded both. What we had now was the most comfortable medium, friendship, I could ask for. I told her that I have no motivation for school and am always up to chat instead of doing work; she wasn't the only person who has trouble bringing herself to focus on her studies--that could have described most college students I know.
"No," she insisted. I was missing something that she wasn't able to tell me. Instead, or perhaps in an attempt to explain she began a tangential rant. "I've come across so many people who've been great friends for a while and then they just suddenly disappear, or I get too busy for them--but either way it's like a waste of time, all that time we had spent, and it's so disappointing."
Every single pout seemed like a line out of my book. I picked up on a touch of loneliness, a healthy dose of being sick of school, and well I'm not sure what else--but I can't figure out myself most times either.
"I'll be so mad about all this time we wasted now if you go off and leave and we never keep in touch!" She almost screamed at me. I felt an intensely odd deja je me suis senti feeling. It was role reversal; all these years I had always been the one pouting and depressing myself to no end over people who talked to me one day never to give a damn about me again.
Back against the wall, hand turning the doorknob, "OK, OK! Yeah we'll definitely keep in touch! I'm not just going to go and drop the ball on you." Didn't she kind of know by now that I don't have the luxury of just ignoring people? If only she knew how much I knew better than to simply forget about people.
She seemed reassured, but stuck in a trance. "BYE!" I exclaimed loud and goofy. She had said "BYE!" to me earlier that night as she walked by my room, and I told her that she had to say "HI!" before she belted "BYE!"
She did not respond.
"BYYYYYYEEEE!" I joked with her. "Now that we've talked you've earned your goodbye."
"Bye," she ejected quickly, the same disinterested way she said earlier today when her friend announced she had to go do school work.
"Have a good night."
April 13, 2006
Spring Nowhere
Welp, I think spring is finally here. That's kind of a risky statement to make considering that we were fighting off some snow accumulation a little over a week ago, but nevertheless, I think spring is finally here. For the last few weeks I have not had to wear four layers of clothing. I wore three for a short while, but these days I'm down to two. Two layers of clothing sounds like a good place to be. There's still a chill in the air, but when mixed with a bit of sun it's completely pleasant. The nights don't even get that cold anymore. I feel comforted when I look at the 10-day forecast and see that a cold front only means dipping down to highs in the low 50s. It can't get too bad from this point on.
I've left my window and shades open for the last few days without even shutting them for the night. After nearly half a year of limiting my room's air circulation to the stuffy building's ventilation system, my room suddenly feels fresh and new. I even left my window open yesterday when it rained and the smell of fresh rain filled my room. I thought I was in a soapbar commercial. Then this morning I woke up to an ocean of Carribean-blue skies with a flew small, fluffy clouds sailing through. This intense blue sky only makes a short appearance here every year as it disappears behind thick gray clouds or dims under a distant, weak sun for a good chunk of the year. I saw the vibrant blue, and felt the warmth and for once since a long time, I woke up happy.
At the end of the day, as I descended down the hill to my dorm, the entire slope seemed alive again with an intense green of nearly neon quality. I also caught the scenic view across the valley and noticed that the deforested patches that appeared for the last few months like barren, icy snow mounds now transformed into fuzzy, green pastures.
So with the sun beaming much stronger, a few flowers starting to come out, and the grass intensely green it's starting to feel a little more alive. The vail of lifeless depression that settles on this place for a long stretch of the year has mostly lifted, but I'm not quite that fickle. For now the place still seems like a blooming graveyard. The vast stretches of forests that we can see from atop the hill still stand in brown-gray ghostliness, no leaves, no nothing, only to be interspered with a few tired evergreens.
This is the season I'd go for, though. The fall is pleasant, and the burst of gold, red, orange, and brown make it quite visually enticing, but all good things come to an end and the end of the fall is quite tragic here. It thursts us into very short, cloudy days, lots of freezing temps, and heaps of snow left to weather for months. I don't think the horror of winter needs to be described, beyond the hints I've dropped so far. And summer is an awful humid mess--like putting something pleasant on stereoids. The tree canopies become a bit overpowering and suffocating, rendering the illusion of living in a Northern jungle a bit too real. The summer heat is saturated with humidity and the downpowers can kill ants in their ferocity.
So this will be my last season in this wretched place, which isn't so bad, but is too full of bad experiences for me to get too sentimental about leaving it.
April 11, 2006
Sleep Deprivation
Wow, something just isn't right. I spotted dark blue-black bags under my eyes this evening and thought I'd crash into bed, into dreamland tonight. Instead, it's past 4:30 A.M. and I can't fall asleep for the life of me. My brain aches from sleep deprivation, but I can't get it to shut down and let my exhausted self be. Hmph. Something about this insomnia thing is going to have to give soon, I just can't go on like this, but I don't know what the problem is. When I was home for spring break I slept like a baby, it was amazing.
I had no weekend. It was awful, even though I had some fun. I worked on Friday afternoon and then attended the Bat Mitzvah of one of my seventh graders. I couldn't not go, she is the one girl who respects me. She really wanted me to come, and when I showed up she hugged me twice. I think it really made a difference for her that I showed up, and I felt incredible to be able to make someone so happy.
The whole graduation fiasco degenerated into a little crisis on Friday night when I finally got a response from my college Dean. He indicated that I need to talk to a Dean higher up about my "plans to accelerate" my graduation. I e-mailed him back pleading that my plans to accelerate have been finalized and I thought he had approved them, to which this Dean replied that I still need to see a higher up.
I completely freaked out, and let anxiety consume me over the weekend. Mostly this resulted in a very restless Friday night in which I futilely tried to fall asleep until 5 A.M. I didn't understand why we need to be discussing my graduation plans now in April less than two months before the actual ceremony, only a month before the end of finals. I began to confront the terror of not being allowed to graduate, and thought to myself that I simply could not bear spending another semester here after all the hell I've been through. The panic attack was so bad that I resolved to go see a counselor if this happened again soon--so far it hasn't.
Saturday morning my job at the physics department needed me to help with a conference they were having on campus. So the only day I usually get to sleep to my satisfaction I had to wake up at 9 A.M. Luckily one of my friends/co-student workers called me around 9:20 A.M. that morning to ask if I wanted to walk to the conference together. If she hadn't called I don't think I would have woken up. Here's a kicker, the boss got up and started to thank a bunch of people for helping with the conference. Of course, the students workers didn't even get the slightest shout out. We were disgruntled but applauded anyway. I was feeling cranky, sleepy, and delusional so I started singing the uncensored lyrics to Khia's "My Neck, My Back." My fellow student co-worker got a real rise out of that. We had a good laugh.
After the conference I got back into bed and crashed for an hour or two. Saturday night I went out to a birthday party. It was a good friend of mine, actually my neighbor from last year. I hadn't seen her in a while and really wanted to celebrate her 21st with her, so I went. I made her a mix tape which we played at the party and the whole floor was jumpin' jumpin'. That was nice, but I didn't get back to my room till about oohhh 1 A.M.ish. Didn't get to sleep till an hour or two later...
Then Sunday morning I had to wake up at 8 A.M. for my other job teaching the 7th graders. It was pretty rowdy and I was sooo damn exhausted to control them. One of the students brought in a digital camera and started video recording the class. Ugh, it'll probably end up on the news or something, "rowdy kids, irresponsible teacher." After work I had lunch, and then went to my room and passed out for almost 3 hours.
I was really cranky after having done so much this weekend. Did I mention that I'm not a morning person at all? I can't wake up that early, especially not on weekends! To make matters worse I had all this work dangling over my head. Most notably, I had a 12 page government paper due today. I finished it tonight, but just barely. It was such torture--now that's a government topic worth writing about.
Welp, I do think that was the last obnoxious paper in my whole college career though. What an unglamorous ending. Remaining workload in my college career: 1 statistics exam (next week), senior project/thesis (due sometimes in early May), 2 final exams (2nd-3rd week in May), too many lab reports and problem sets to count (weekly).
April 06, 2006
Bitter Till the End?
Just when I thought that my long history of trouble with the University administration reached an end I was infuriated to run into more of the same this week. See, Martin Luther King Jr.'s son is the graduation speaker this year, and ever since I found out I've been eagerly awaiting to see and hear him speak. You would think that every graduating senior, at the very least, would be entitled without a doubt to attend the keynote convocation speech at their own graduation. I guess not.
This year the University introduced a system whereby all graduating seniors had to obtain (free) tickets for our own convocation. Tickets were only available through a password protected website on a first-come first-serve basis. Well, not only did I not receive the mass e-mail announcing the that tickets were available and directing me to the website, but when I did finally learn of the situation from a friend I rushed to the website to snag my own tickets but could not log on. Not authorized to access it, or some stupid crap like that.
I didn't waste a second in e-mailing the administrators to that website, exhorting them to grant me access because for the N-th time, I AM a graduating senior and went through all the loops and hoops and hurdles to get my status bumped up to senior and my graduation plans approved by everyone. The next day I received a no-name reply from the generic webmaster e-mail address in which they absolved themselves of any responsibility in the matter. "Sorry, not much we can do for you. The registrar gives us the names of students who get access."
Fuming, I e-mailed the registrar and my college Dean knowing full well that every day wasted meant my first-come first-serve chances to attend my own graduation events were diminishing. I wanted to manhandle someone over the absurdity of this mess. I knew for a fact that registrar had changed my status to a senior MONTHS ago. The registrar e-mailed those in charge of the website confirming that I am a senior, and they wrote back saying that they can't change it now but if I really am a senior I will probably be able to access the website when they process a late-batch of names to be granted authorization.
Finally after that stupid waste of time and energy and anger I was able to access the website. The first thing I did was go to reserve Convocation tickets for myself and my family that are flying in to hear MLK the 3rd. But of course. I get a message saying that tickets are sold out and that I've been put on a waiting list. Waiting list?! Do they really think seniors will actually bother to give up their tickets to graduation?!?
The ridiculousness of this situation has got me steaming so bad, but I'm so over fighting this stupid school that I don't even know what to do. I guess I'll just wait. I guess I'll have to tell my proud family, including my grandparents who will fly in from overseas, that we can't go hear the keynote speech at my graduation. How humiliating.
Sometimes people look at me funny or wonder why I'm so bitter about college. I'm not really a particularly bitter person. I just get into these situations too often. Some people don't understand; to them I'm not only am I a weirdo and angry person, but "normal people" don't run into this much trouble with the University. *Tosses hands in dismissal* Whatever.
In other news, I finally confronted my neighbor's "fiance" (Yolanda, that one's for you). I could no longer bear his presence next door every night. I've put up with this mess since August; It's been a long time coming.
Yesterday night I was in the bathroom washing my hands, and he walked in with his stupid tooth brush and toothpaste apparently to indulge in his and her toothbrushing fetish. I wanted to look away impatiently but then remembered that I needed, needed, needed to finally tell him what's been on my mind.
"Um, hey, yeah I've been meaning to talk to you for a while."
"Oh," he turned to me. I could hardly bear looking him in the eyes. Months of building fury made him too untouchable, too unapproachable for me. His teeth were so crooked and yellow--shocking for someone who brushes so much every day.
I hesitantly let it all out. I pointed out that he comes here every night and that I suppose it's their right, but that I always hear them through my wall. I told him that now especially I am working on my senior thesis, and his voice, which penetrates the wall really well, really distracts me. "So," I proposed, "do you think you guys could go to your room some days, or downstairs to the common room in the building, or to the lounge on our floor?"
He faced me but his eyes evaded mine. We stood in silence for a few moments and then he started to chuckle, a nervous, tense, awkward chuckle. Caught off guard, and insulted I persisted, "So... what do you think you'll do?"
He continued to chuckle.
A bit impatient, "We have to figure something out, I really can't... What do you think you'll do?"
I was really hoping to hear that they'd be decently considerate and LEAVE her room and GO AWAY at least every so seldom. Nope. "Well, knowing this, I'll make a point to talk more quiet when I'm in her room," he said.
I wanted to smack his balls, but I'd been so surprisingly civil this whole time that I couldn't bring myself to be such a bully. "OK, thanks," and I left him to brush his nasty teeth.
Well, of course, now as I type this he is in her room and I hear him just as well as before--as if we had never spoken. Whatever, a couple more days and I'll rat on their horny asses to the Residence Hall Advisors.
April 03, 2006
Wasting Time
Last night I had a category-five headache that kept me up till way too late. I couldn't fall asleep and then somehow I woke up with the same pounding headache; and so the minute I opened my eyes I just wanted the day to be over. I dragged myself around campus all day with that Katrina-kinda headache and then fainted into bed the minute I got back to my room. Sleeping it off was a good idea. After an hour and a half I woke up feeling much better; Katrina tapered off into a light drizzle, though I now feel a bit nauseous from too many hours of brainache.
I'm not doing much but procrastinating now. I have a stupid 10-page government paper due next week which is going to throw me off from my attempts to write my senior "thesis." I've been rather grumpy in the last half-week. The social dynamics in my hall, which were amusing, social, and friendly for most of the year, have been deteriorating into snubbing snobbery, cheap-shots at each other, tension, and our hallmark group dinners fragmenting into games of evasion. And I'm still dead sick of my stupid neighbor whose 19 or 20 year old "fiance" spends every night in our dorm, in her room, and I must hear everything through the wall.
I also, for the life of me, can't bring myself to write. I need to get going on this thesis, and I know it could turn out good. I have all these ideas, but no clue how to put them on paper. And when I try to spew them out of my brain I get too emotional and sappy-hearted to see these words crying at me from the screen. Ugh. Then I think about all the trash that's written in the world. Maybe I would have had an easier time writing trash.
