LustingforNightmares

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2016-01-08 15:48:16 (UTC)

I Am The Graph, You Are The Vertical Asymptote


"A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left" by Andrew Bird

Overprescribed
Under the mister
We had survived to

**Turn on the History Channel
And ask our esteemed panel
Why are we alive?
And here's how they replied
You're what happens when two substances collide
And by all accounts you really should have died**

Stretched out on a tarmac
Six miles south of North Platte
He can't stand to look back
Sixteen tons of hazmat
It's what goes undelivered
Undelivered

*It's a nervous tic motion of the head to the left*
It's a nervous tic motion of the head to the left
Of the what, of the head to the left
So exercise yourselves to your bereft
'Cause it's a nervous tic motion of the head to the left of the, of the, to the

Splayed out on a bath mat
Six miles north of South Platte
He just wants his life back
What's in that paper nap sack
It's what goes undelivered
Undelivered

It's a nervous tic motion of the head to the left
A nervous tic motion of the head
Head to the left
It's a nervous tic motion of the, of the, to the
Left

It's a nervous tic motion of the head to the, of the, of the head of the head to the

Over imbibed
Under the mister
Barely alive we cover the blisters in flannel
*Though the words we speak are banal
Not one of them's a lie*
Not one of them's a lie
You're what happens when two substances collide
And by all accounts you really should have died

January 8, 2015 Friday 2:56 PM

Ugh, my hands are incredibly clammy. I'm not feeling so good.

----

I walked out of school at the beginning of my last class today. I have study hall so it's not like it matters. I just didn't wanna be there anymore. I'm tired today, I probably look it.

I also kind of want to die. I've been really mean to myself and I don't understand! Ugh. I didn't go to sleep on time last night like I should've. Second day in a row with less than five hours of sleep. Plus, this is probably the fifth time this week I didn't sleep enough... Ugh, stress and self-destructive behavior. Ugh.

(There is something I don't talk about on here. I used to talk about it a lot when I was depressed and I used to do it pretty often, too. I stopped years ago, sometime in freshman year, but I still think about... doing it? Whenever I feel shitty, it kinda just slides into view and I shake my head and move on, ignore the caged feeling inside, because if I did THAT... Well, it won't solve anything and I don't want to be pathetic and I don't want anyone knowing, shit. I still look at where I used to do it and I can still see marks but they're faint, much fainter than Lily's – I don't think I did it quite as often – and I kind of just hate that it happened. Hate that I did it, at least. Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh shoot me please. No, don't. I always feel like I have to remind y'all that I'm not being serious when I tell you to murder me, haha)

oKAY. Done with the complaints for now.

"Querulous" is a pretty word. Not so sure it's a pretty thing, though.

–––––––

Today, Mr. Washington was nice again.

I was sitting with Erica (SHE HAS SUCH A CUTE HAIR CUT, SHE'S SO CUTE AW) and were were discussing the video we had to watch for homework which was basically a professor (Matthew Pinsky) talking about Lincoln's intentions when he gave the Cooper's Union speech. Mr. Washington had told us to discuss the video in small groups for a few minutes before talking with the whole class.

He said, "I wanna hear new voices, people! We can't always have the same kids answering questions!" He then looked at me and was mouthing stuff and I was like, "whataatatata"

He was saying, "SPEAK, YOU MUST SPEak" or something with the same meaning. Ugh. I kinda just looked at him apologetically and hoped he wouldn't pin all his hopes on me.

So yeah, we ended up having that class discussion (Birdy was about 1 seat away and I could see him in my peripheral. He kept looking in my general direction, away from the teacher – don't know what he was glancing at but I'm thinking it was probably the clock – and I tried ignoring it because I DID want to speak, I promise you. I just... wanted to be SURE of what I was about to say. So yeah, couldn't afford to be distracted by boy movements, but I kind of was anyways).

I, uh, didn't say anything. I wanted to and at one point, I actually knew the answer to a question he was asking (about what Lincoln was trying to tell his fellow Republicans) but I wasn't totally sure so Alexis ended up raising her hand instead (she got it right, smart lil peanut she is).

The thing is, this is an AP class so Washington asked a simple question and then followed it up with one or two ANALYTICAL questions and I need time to think about that stuff! Plus, I get nervous and I

1) forget English
2) forget how to organize words
3) forget how to not sound a tad defensive
4) forget what the hell I was going to say
5) forget everything ever, actually.

Yeah. These are excuses. I will try and answer questions. Mostly because after class, I was waiting around for Alexis and Kennedy was said something........ Um, I will paraphrase because I can't recall ONE word of his actual statements.

Something about how I "need to speak up" and how I'm smart or something (I feel so guilty) and how I give very good arguments in my essays and my opinions are important and he respects them. The "I respect your opinions" part was what caught my attention. That was really nice...

As an excuse, I told him that I felt like I didn't know the material well enough to speak up. This really nice girl who I will call Precious (she dated that Romanian kid who I mentioned once in eighth grade because he used to have a crush on me. Connections whoaoaoaa) clapped me on the shoulder and said, "You're top of the list, don't you dare say you don't know your stuff!" or something like that.

I just kinda went, "Errrrr, I'm not gonna argue with that but I /could/." That made Washington laugh, haha.

But yeah, that made me feel... nice. It was nice that he wanted me to speak up. I AM somewhat proud of my essays and I do enjoy that class a lot (I kind of hate the reading – which sucks because that's 99% of the work – but I like the information itself. I like the way it webs itself together. I've always been a fan of cause and effect)...

One thing I have to say about my essays is that I'm kind of a phony... YES, they're my opinions and it's my writing (and it's me having mini heart attacks and me slamming my head against the wall in order to write it, FUCK I HATE ESSAYS I HATE THEM UGGHGHGHHGHGHGHGH) but I don't feel like I really retain the information. I have to read those stupid articles and chapters over and fucking over again in order to write, like, the intro paragraph.

With our DBQ, I frickin' google-searched sooooo many times in order to either confirm a fact or get a definition or a date or in order to learn whO THE HELL Lucretia Mott was or something. Dunno why she was the first name to pop into my head.

You!!! Aren't!!! Supposed to do that!!! With DBQ's!!!! In reality, during our exam in very early May, we'll have less than an hour to plan and write our essays and they have to have all this extended analysis and "synthesis" of one time period or aspect that is not already a theme and we'll have to provide context and specific dates and shit!!!

I can remember the general.... shapes of history. But not specific things. I can remember people's names and sometimes I can remember the year they died or made an important speech, but I can't remember dates and if you said to me, "Yooooo what's the Kansas-Nebraska Act?" I'd be like..... "What."

(!!! Shit, I love history, I love knowing stuff ahhhahha).

Unfortunately, specifics are kind of a necessity in DBQ's and just FUCCCKCKKKKK. I am not looking forward to May. Hell, I'm not even looking forward to February. Or next week.

–––––––

I want to make your shapes with words. I do not have the ability to do that. I wish I did.

–––––––

I start accelerating and it's nice because I seem to be getting faster, faster, but then I slow down and get slower and the speed decreases exponentially and I can't touch, can't touch what I want to, it's just out of reach and I can't run fast enough to catch it and that's why I'm always thinking about that Bukowski quote in my head, why I'm always turning it over in my head.

"She was desperate and she was choosey at the same time and, in a way, beautiful, but she didn't have quite enough going for her to become what she imagined herself to be."

Yuck. Is that all I'm doing with my life? Probably. Most people seem (and this could just be a mistaken impression) to end up with mediocre (or worse) careers in some unimportant branch of some unimportant company, they end up kicking aside their dreams for something else and I can see myself being that person. I can see myself living the empty life, the kind they like to talk about in American Beauty or Catcher In The Rye, because I thought I was good at something and then it turned out I wasn't good enough.

(You can tell it's really bothering me because I couldn't express it normally and instead resorted to some cheesy ass metaphor and fuck, that only makes the fear worse)

–––––––
Why are my thoughts always so frickin' fragmented? Why can't my brain chill with the mosaic-style thinking, why can't it just be as ordered as these words??? Why can't I just see it all at once?

I was reading Incognito today. It's so... cool. I read about how 1/3 of our brain is dedicated to vision and how vision is made up of a LOT assumptions.

That, I kind of already knew. My Grandpa was talking at me the other day and he said that if we could experience everything, we'd be too overwhelmed to interpret it and it'd just be like white noise. Gosh, that'd be torture. Imagine having to manually control your fingers as that fucking slam down on the keyboard like mine are doing now??? My fingers (yours too), they've got muscle memory, all I have to do is think the words I want to say and BAM, my fingers flick them into creation.

Anyway, the author-dude described the way we see the world as a "rough sketch" and explained that we only see what is deemed necessary to see... So everything else is just like seeing the world through "frosted glass" or whatever that dude said about peripheral vision. AHhh.

So we extract only what we need. Also, we see in frames and fill in the spaces – I got that information elsewhere. Sorry I can't cite the source, haha, I don't remember where I read it.

I hate thinking about that, though, because I get way too fucking aware of how I see in snapshots, how if I try to move my eyeball smoothly, I find that I can't – I find that I'm focusing, focusing, focusing, and jesus, I don't want to focus!! Damn you, brain.

––––––

Wish I could write sounds. And I don't mean writing notes down, REPRESENTING sound. I literally wish I could write sound, the way you play a piano but not quite. That'd be shitting amazing.

Jesus, I need to stop saying shit.

This is what I get for watching a South Park episode at 2 AM in which they managed to say the word "shit" more than a hundred times (seriously, there was a number count in the corner of the screen haha).

–––––––

Y'know, it's weird because I want to write fiction and I know what I want to write about and how I want to write it but I just don't have a story to tell. I know what message I want to get across, I know what I want to explore in a hypothetical world, I know all the things you're supposed to know. I just don't have any context, haha. This is why I will never be a writer. I suppose I'm not too heartbroken over losing that career option. I'll always be writing either way, same way I'll always be getting up on random day after deciding I want to paint until I get a migraine from the fumes. Maybe I'll be an accountant or something, but I don't think I'll ever really give up my hobbies. This is sad, but I'll probably end up waiting for any trace of my youth to shrivel up so I can retire and finally, finally, finally do what makes me happy without having to worry about keeping myself alive.

–––––––

Know what's weird?

Usually, when I write, I start out in a good mood and then think myself into a hole (at least it used to be that way). But today and yesterday it's been the exact opposite – I've started out feeling really sucky and by the time I'm finished, I feel a lot better.

I'm really sorry if I seem ungrateful at times. In some ways, I AM ungrateful. My brain doesn't let me accept compliments and I don't know how to change that. Lying about it just makes me feel like I'm choking.

Anyway, if you thought I was unaware that my life is awesome and that I'm very lucky that I do well in school, you were wrong. Trust me, I know how great things are for me in comparison to others and I know how selfish it is to be unsatisfied.

But then again, I shouldn't berate myself for being upset sometimes. Maybe it's my fault I have such an unbalanced brain, my fault I have to take meds (speaking of which, I forgot to take them the day before yesterday and I suspect that is part of why today sucked ass. Sadness and anxiety always takes a couple days to kick in. I wonder how inaccurate I am in my self-analysis? Hmm....).

Ugh, okay. Maybe it's my fault, but either way I'm stuck with the damaged brain I have now and so I... kind of???... forgive myself??.... for being so dumb??? And getting upset over nothing??? Mostly it goes back to my self-esteem and I know why THAT'S low but anyway.

Yes. I appear to have tonnnnss of advantages in my life. But I also have plenty of disadvantages, some of which I don't even mention (can't think of examples right now and chances are I wouldn't even tell you what they were if I could). Yeah, okay. See, self? You can be mad at school (it's not like I'm angry about mY grades anyway, I'm more upset with how other people are graded and ranked and I hate how damaging that is to a person. I think of Caroline and how stupid she feels and I hate it, I hate it, I feel like those thoughts are caused by school and people who are used to measuring her intelligence through numbers, I'm just not okay with that. Not when they only teach one way. But I'll shut up now).

You can be mad at mom or dad or Caroline or whoever and it's fine because you're a human being and you don't have to be better or worse than anyone else, okay? Just be normal and flat and average and be content with that. For god's sake, okay?

(Says the atheist to herself)

This was long and boring. Sorry.



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