Expression of frustration at everything being out of order and confused

Life will never become easier, and I want to stop trying, but I know that even if I say I will, I won't, so though there is no point in trying, there is no point in trying not to try. Going against the flow never worked, and going with the flow only seems to confuse me more and make things worse. So I'll go with the flow, because it's easier.

And I have a wicked cough that's tearing up my throat.


Playlist:

Wrong Idea by Chris Thile
Chicago by Sufjan Stevens

Self-Analysis

Man, I truly am a self-interested individual, and I'm severely conscious of it. I do the mental calculations not subconsciously. Is it bad to be self-interested? Or am I just feeling bad because I am conscious of it? Of every decision that I make, I can name for you the lists on cost-benefit analysis, and who benefits and why they do. Man, I could be an awesome manipulator if I didn't have such a conscious.

Also, it was on Friday, I think, that I suddenly had the thought: "I am happy with who I am. I am glad to be me." And I felt it wholly and completely. I'm glad I'm me.

I miss my family. I find myself disliking Rexburg more and more, since I have only two of my cousins here. Not nearly enough family.

Now, time to go make the most of today, in my extreme exhaustion :)

More Dreamage...

I had another dream....it was about sex trafficking....and at first, there were these secret underground kidnappings at my school, but they weren't really kidnappings because the people were still there, going to classes and stuff, but they were just being "initiated" into this prostitution ring (unwillingly), and didn't tell anyone about it for some reason. I kept trying to warn people, but nobody believed me, and the bad people kept trying to capture me because they wanted me and because I was warning people. They also didn't care whether I was hurt or killed, since I was warning people, but they preferred that I become one of their prostitutes. But I kept fighting and running. But eventually they did get me, and I struggled with them, and they couldn't get me any "clients", then I stopped struggling because I knew I couldn't escape, and felt like a dirty, immoral, condemned-to-hell person because I didn't struggle anymore--In my mind, I was being consensual, though I wanted to be anywhere but there. It was a disturbing dream. The first part of the dream, before I was captured, was cool. But the second part was rated X. Why does my mind create unwholesome dreams? I don't think about this stuff, so where does it come from? Weird, weird, weird.

Partial Dream

While I'm thinking of it:

I had a dream where there was some sort of band playing or something, and one of them had an upright bass, and he asked me if I wanted to try playing it, but I also asked him because I had a melody in my head, and we both agreed because I've always wanted to try, and the bass had frets. It was pretty tight, because that made it easier to play. And I was able to play it (probably because it had frets). It was so cool. I would love to learn to play the bass someday. Also the cello. It's one of my dreams.

The Oddities of Time

197 page book in 1 hour, 47 minutes. My intent was to read a chill book while I ate, then do some more homework, then perhaps to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Beware of books. Now the time for early-to-bed-early-to-rise has passed, and I think I'll just pull an all-nighter. Perhaps for 48 hours. And then my mind will be as impaired as if I were drunk. Though I've never been drunk (and I never will be). Time has been flying ever since Saturday night. We got back at around 6, and I went to the Snow around 7 and skyped home for an hour and a half, then played piano 'til 11. It was light when I went into the Snow, and dark when I came out. It surprised me. Time escaped from me. On Sunday night after General Conference I went to my friend's house. We talked, watched Tangled, then talked some more. I looked at the clock, and it had jumped from 8 to 12. Time escaped from me. Today after classes and tutoring I was in the library doing homework from 7 until 10. I didn't notice the passage of time except for on the computer clock. It felt as though an hour had passed. My internal time measurer needs reset, so that time will not escape from me. I expect that tonight as I attempt to be ultra-productive, time will yet again escape from me. I pulled an all-nighter last Monday. That was a week ago. It feels like yesterday. Where does it go? Time is certainly relative. I've felt oddly internal since Saturday. I received social interaction on Sunday night, and now it's as though my meter has been filled for an indefinite period of time. Perhaps my body is finally becoming acclimated so that it needs less of everything in order to survive: less sleep, less socialisation, less food, less time. I will transcend mortality before I know it. Someday I will be married and will not have to use this blog any more. It's hardly read as it is. Someday I will have somebody who will have to listen. I hate the boy. I dislike the girl. But I can feign friendship until the semester ends. Two days of classes, three more of packing/moving/planning.

Sympathy versus Duty

My sympathies lie with myself, but my morality tells me to step away; and not only that, but to be an active participant in their unition. I am able to reign in my sympathies, and control my chariot. And though my sympathies conflict with my morality, I am bound by duty--though it does cause pain. Or perhaps these sympathies are only selfishness, and it conflicts with my duty because my duty is what's moral, and selfishness is immoral. Though I feel a masochist at times, encouraging the courtship while screaming against it on the inside, but almost enjoying the feeling of being a martyr, and a secret martyr at that. And I do wonder: will I ever play the part of the one who is to be courted? I feel as though this is a role for everyone but me: I am not even onstage--I am the curtain-puller, the provider of refreshments, the insignificant peon. I do play a part, I do help, but I am given the most menial of tasks. I've given up trying. I don't know how to try anyways. I only know how to be myself--which, supposedly, is what everybody likes, though I have not seen any fruits come of it. I've been told that I am a good catch, that I am somebody who people would want, yet where is the evidence of this? I have yet to see who it is that wants me. Who wants me? I have given up any practical hope of finding a boy who I want, who will want me back. I have given up any practical hope of a boy finding me who wants me, who I will want back. Of course, there is the residue of hope, which I pull back with my logic. Or with my morality. For logic and morality are very much related. It is hope which hurts. Hope from which nothing will come. Hope which leads to disappointment, disappointment being the worst pain of all. It's a sharp, acute pain at first, and stays a chronic, dull, throbbing ache. It is fear of disappointment, and a knowledge of the high likelihood of such, which prevents me from ever going for anything that depends on anybody else. I prefer to remain in the realm of myself, my box, in which realm I can only be harmed by myself. It is a narrow box to be sure, but it is one which I control. It is one where I decide how I will feel, how I will act, and nothing is dependent on others. This brings pain, but it is a pain that I cause, and that I control. For I would rather have pain which I can control, than a happiness which I cannot. And they say that happiness is not dependent on others, but only on one's own self. It is true that there is a particular sort of happiness which depends only on one's own self, but this is not the highest happiness attainable. The happiness which depends only on one's own self is a lesser happiness. True happiness, happiness in its highest sense, does depend on others, as do all things when they are fulfilled in their highest measure. And as true happiness in its highest sense depends on others, so also does true misery in its highest sense depend on others. The highs are in proportion to the lows, and for higher levels of happiness, there are higher levels of misery. So I will stay on my lower level of misery, and likewise experience lower levels of happiness. But at least I can control it all.

Key Change, Please-- I'm sick of C.

I see that you are ignoring the problem instead of addressing it. Or perhaps I'm so excellent at what I do that you perceive no problem. But if you are aware of the problem, then why not just say something? Or do you subscribe to the belief that if you ignore something long enough, it goes away? Or perhaps the "I can't see you so you can't see me" principle.

It does bother me a little. But it'll be okay. As I told you before, I'm used to it; I can handle it. And next semester comes soon (though not soon enough to keep me from feeling some hurt). Next semester, the problems all go away, because neither you nor he will be here. I don't even have to run away, but I am changing the scenery.

Someday, I'll find mine as you have found yours. Someday, I won't have to be quiet anymore. Someday, I'll be allowed to have one too.

I have a headache. Go away.