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Sunday, April 9, 2000 So I think a lot. Probably too much. Nobody likes a girl who over-analyzes everything, verdad? I was never like this before, not when I was younger. I don't know. I just changed all of the sudden. Since I started college, I've been on this self-identity quest. I thought I was through with it, but apparently I was mistaken. Yes, I mocked it in my previous entry, but I haven't been able to help myself. I don't fit into any castes... I'm not a complete nerd--I'm too fickle and I certainly have my dense moments. I'm not a complete introvert--I like talking to interesting people and learning about (cross-examining) them. I'm not a pessimist--When I'm worried, I turn to optimism for solace. I like all types of music, yet am not a musician. I like every kind of movie, yet I don't retain all of the good quotes. I like to read and write, but I am not a reader nor a writer (you'd know what I'm talking about if you were a reader or a writer). I appreciate all forms of art and all realms of thought, yet am not an artist nor a philosopher. How can a person who fits every categorization be properly classified? I was discussing this with a friend who has known me for about three years now and he told me that this wasn't true, that I do fit into a category. "A girl who is trying so hard not to be a girl, but can't help herself." Heh. Cierto. Forgive me, and I am not some vengeful femi-nazi, but I detest the stereotypical girl--the super-emotional, eyelash-curling, "this dress makes me look fat"-talking, boyfriend-wanting, ice-cream-binging, grapefruit-dieting, estrogen machine. Laugh. It's only funny because it's true. I, shamefully, am guilty of the innate flaws of womanhood. They *are* innate. No matter how different I feel I may be from the rest of my gender, there are just some things that go along with the territory. Please don't take any of this the wrong way. Manhood may be easier, but it sucks just as much. School. I hate school. I love learning. How ironic, eh? I trudge through my daily routine, counting the days till the semester is over and wishing it was. Then I go and create reasons for me to stay in school: additional degrees, maybe a minor, hmm.. maybe become a professional student? It's just boring. I like to talk, I don't like to listen, but I'm better at the latter. I procrastinate in everything--and when I say procrastinate, I truly mean it. I'm talking last friggin' minute procrastination. My watch no longer reads from 12 to 12. It reads from deadline to deadline. One would think I would have learned my lesson by now. "No, Sarah.. Procastination--bad." If only life were that easy. With each "A" I get, I only learn to scorn school more, knowing that by my standards I did not deserve such a grade. It's okay though.. In the end, I'll just be a pissy writer/anthropologist/computer scientist/lawyer. ::sigh:: Life... Tuesday, April 11, 2000 I have a "semi-final" exam in my literature class in about two hours. Am I ready? Have I spent an adequate amount of time studying? Yes and no. That's why I like literature classes. It's all free-thought. There are no right or wrong answers, everything is just subject to one's own interpretation. Well speak of the devil. I just received a phone call from a classmate. "Sarah... Are we allowed to use our books during the exam?" ::shrug:: I don't remember. It doesn't matter either. If you know a good quote, use it. There aren't any special formulas in Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm to help you do better on the test. Forgetting Twain's Theorem won't penalize you. This isn't rocket science. It's literature. Some may wrinkle their noses at me and my study habits, but I seem to have everything under control, don't I? I always have things under control. So I deem myself ready. Insanity is such a broad word. Sure, psychologists have delineated the realm through and through, but that shouldn't mean anything. I'm a pretty looney person by normal standards. Ugh.. the nerve of me to use the word "normal." Nobody knows where normalcy begins or ends and nobody has the right to define it. I talk to myself, laugh for no apparent reason and find myself thinking of everything all at once one minute, then nothing at all the next. Looney, I tell ya. Ever get so exhausted of caring? Caring about the future, caring about the present, caring what other people think, caring about other people in general? (Emotions are overrated.) Hehehe.. Yeah? Poor you. Thursday, April 20, 2000 Emotionally drained. What can one expect after playing the girl role prescribed for me? That's why it's easier to pretend it isn't there or that no one can touch it, the part of your brain that acts as a gateway to the heart. Disappointment is always the end result, no matter how prolonged it may be in coming. I'm attracted to the spark, a moth to a lantern. When I can see a reflection of myself in another's eyes, I feel a distinct excitement. I tend to probe, draining the host of its mental recesses then feeling resentment, sadness, when it has nothing left to give or nothing left it wants to give me. I'm not like most 'guarded' types, I'm quick to let people within my mental barriers if they show curiousity, a desire to get to know me. It's just that not many do. When somebody does, I always manage to let it fall through the cracks. It's nobody's fault, I don't blame it on myself by any means. I'm different. It's just the way things are. 94. Bah. more of what Sarah's saying >> |
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