Joy

Pieces of Me
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2004-11-22 14:15:44 (UTC)

It's Just One of Those Days....

Ah, yes.
I believe Fred Durst said it best when he angrily declared:

"Its just one of those days when you don't wanna wake up.
Everything is f*cked.
Everybody sucks."

(Yeah, I know, I censored the "f word". Sorry to those of
you who particularly enjoy colorful language, but this
journal is intended for all audiences)

Anyway, I'm really hoping my woman's intuition isn't right
this time in feeling that this is going to be a really
crappy day.

I'm sitting in english class this morning, at freakin'
8:40am, after going to bed at 4:30am. Stupid, I know. I
stayed up to finish a paper that's due today, but of course
I didn't finish it. I hardly finished two paragraphs.

So here I am. We're supposed to be working in our groups on
presentations that are due a week from today, and my group
members aren't here, so I'm being nearly as unproductive as
possible by writing here and surfing the net for anything
that will hold my attention for more than 5 seconds.
The only thing that would be even less productive would be
staring off into space, and I'm almost doing that anyway.

I'm sure I look like hell. And by that I mean that I
probably look possessed or something. Dishevelled and angry.

My hair is wet, my mouth, I'm sure, is slightly down-
turned, and my eyes are open enough to show that I'm awake
but closed enough to make it seem as if I'm glaring
viciously at whoever I make eye contact with. And yet I
have no desire to direct any energy into making myself look
more approachable.
It's probably for the best anyway. I don't feel much like
making friendly conversation today.


Which brings me to another point. Why do people waste time
and energy making friendly conversation anyway? I find it
pointless myself (And just so everyone is clear before I
move on, making friendly conversation is NOT the same as
talking to a friend).
Friendly conversations are those stupid ones you have with
people you hardly know because you feel the need to fill
the silence with words that serve no purpose except to be
said. As Danae once stated in a much different context with
sugar-influenced words: "I'm just talking and words are
coming out." Sure, awkward silence are, well, awkward, but
everyone is aware on some level that making friendly
conversation does nothing more than avoid awkward silences,
which can make friendly conversation awkward in itself. See
what I'm getting at?
There's no reason why you shouldn't be friendly and smile
at someone or give a simple greeting... but talking about
the weather? No one really wants to know about the weather!
The same with a happy "How are you?" from a relatively
unfamiliar person as they're walking by. They don't really
want to know how you are, and chances are, if you told them
how you actually were, they either wouldn't want to hear
about it, or can't understand because they don't know you
well enough to know what's going on in your life in the
first place. And we all know that you don't really want to
go into an explanation either, detailed or otherwise, which
is why we all give one-word responses like "Fine!"
or "Good!" or at the very least "I'm okay".
I guess my main complaint with making friendly conversation
is that one or both of the conversationalists have no
genuine interest whatsoever in what's being said. If you
have nothing of real importance to say, why not just enjoy
the silence rather than agonizing over it?
Just wondering.


But anyway.
I've just killed about 30 minutes doing this. Of course, I
could have been working on my paper....

I have no idea why I do this to myself.

I mean, I really couldn't care much less that my paper will
be late. I really only care that it's just one more thing I
have to worry about getting done. It's just that with
everything going on in my life AND in my head, I'm left
severely lacking in energy and motivation that I can devote
toward homework.

Unanswerable questions can be very tiring sometimes.

After I get out of music appreciation at 11am, I'm going
home to take a nap.

I'm tired.


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