(no subject)

Something is wrong, well not wrong, just off. Something has changed and not in a particularly pleasant way. All week it has felt as though everyone (and I do mean everyone) has been more stand-offish to me, like I've suddenly become repellent. It isn't them, I could see one or two people being different and it not being me, but when everyone goes more distant it has something to do with how I act. I guess I've been too physical, too loud, obnoxious and clingy. I have a tendency to do that. I know what this means, damn, thank goodness I've got a new book. This means for the next two weeks or so I'm going to avoid everyone, give them the space we seem to need. I get so bored when this happens but being lonely for a few weeks is better than being lonely for months after getting into a fight with my friends.
I take too many liberties physically. On Friday I went to go see the West One-Acts (which were fabulous by the way. I enjoyed Billy!, Oedi, and Trotsky the best) I was cheerful and excited and whenever I feel like that I get bold. Bold = Bad, as physical as I already am I get even more so when I'm feeling cheerful, bouncy, hyper, excited, enthusiastic, inspired, etc. It makes me act stupid, well, more so than usual. I came in with a bubble inside me and it only increased when I was talking to Ellie and when Ernie waved at me, I thought he was waving at Ellie but it turned out he was waving to me (that was odd, I'm used to being ignored by everyone unless I'm five feet from them). Hyper and Happy I bounced down the aisle to him and we talked briefly. I heard a voice but I couldn't figure out what it was saying or where it was coming from, it turns out it was Paul saying hello to me which just cheered me even more so I made the faux pas of sitting at his feet which just weirded everyone the heck out, as soon as my butt touch the floor I realized it was a mistake but I had too much pride to stand up and walk away.
(I am far too proud for my own good. Sometime this week I was walking with Anthea, talking as we used to so all the time. Erin was already miffed because Anthea had 'blown her off' to go walking with me, and ignored her twice when we came inside to get warm. Actually she may not have even seen Erin but I certainly felt a twinge in that tender spot of my back where her knife will go someday. Anyway Erin finally got impatient enough to come up to us and drag Anthea away. I got my lunch ready and then went into the room I had thought they had gone to. As I took off my jacket and sat down to eat Erin said, "I didn't know your next class was government" "It's not." They finished talking and Anthea left, if I had had less pride I would have followed her out but I am proud so I kept eating my lunch for another ten minutes while Erin kept throwing me mild glares. Then I picked up my stuff and left.)
I spend far too much time thinking about myself. Why must it always be me, Me, ME. I'm so sick of this massive conceit, I should be better than this. Worrying what others think of me, whether I'm crazy, whether I'm a good person, what I'll do with my life, how I'll die, what I fear most, want most. Always Me! I hate it, I should be worrying about the world, all of those poor people starving or being raped, gays being oppressed, or at least about my drug addicted alcoholic, manic depressive friends. I should be thinking of ways to make my family and friends happy, make their lives easier. I hate how much I think about myself. I should delete this journal, it only makes the problem worse because then I re-read it and think about myself even more. Phil thinks I may have a 'servile complex', the happy slave. If only if only I could be blissfully ignorant of myself and always thinking of others.
See this is the annoying thing. If I don't talk about this with others it eats me away, but when/if I do I feel guilty for being so narcissistic. I need someone to fight with. That would be so perfect. It would work out my aggression and when they insult me it'll take my swollen ego down a peg or three. I wonder if I could convince Justin or Erin to do that. But how would we be able to keep it impersonal, I could probably do it but I don't know about them.
Now that the meltdown has subsided for a bit (talking to Jenny and Anthea while writing this helped tremendously).
Erin was ill on Fri. so Anthea ran rehearsal. In her words "You paraphrase like a - fiend" which I do, and I know it. I need to try and trick my brain out of the habit of scanning, I do that with homework too, read just enough to get the gist of things but not the true words. Which is as great insult to the author, they wrote those specific words with the precise intent of every last one being read.
I had a new experience with my folks sometime this week. We went to Royal Fork (buffet, for those who don't know) and have since decided to Never Ever go Again. I was sitting the wrong way but my folks kept having to shield their eyes and cover their mouths because they were feeling so grossed out. Somewhere behind me was an obese man and his family, rather than eating the traditional way which is to take one bite at a time, he used both hands to shovel food (almost literally) into his mouth getting it all over himself in the process. My family is obese, yes that is true, but we have decent table manners. Since I never saw the guy all I had were my parents' reactions which made me laugh so much I almost snorted my banana-split. It was a chorus of "Eww" and "Oh my god" and "I can't look away, why can't I look away?" When we were in the car my Mom went "Oh my god, what if that woman was his wife? And those kids were his? That means she must have slept with him at least twice!" My dad actually gagged. The only thing that kept me in the seat was my seat belt. Oh it was so wonderful.
I guess I just have a perverse sense of humor. Or maybe not. Once during art Billy described a friend of his who, when they were younger, would torment another friend's pet gerbil by using the vacuum hose to trap this poor thing and then let it run away only to do it again. I guess the thing was skinnier than it looked because it got sucked up all the way and was butchered by the rotating blades that cause suction. Everyone else turned green at the gills, I did not notice this because I was laughing so hard I was crying. I told this to my Mom and she also turned green and said that laughing is how I must handle something that terrible. It's too awful for me too really think about it so I laugh instead. I don't mind that as my response except for the looks I get from the people around me.
Hmm, anything else. Time has been acting oddly. The first week of the new quarter (this past week) felt like two very long days instead of five complete ones. On Friday when I saw Ellie she asked how Brian and I were doing "Oh we broke up ages ago. You didn't hear about this?" When I said it I truly believed all of that had been over with for at least three weeks, it wasn't until later that I remembered it had only been about eleven days.
It hit me on Weds. that in three weeks I'm turning 18. From the shock of shortly becoming an 'adult' arose the image of one final blast. A giant party where everyone I knew (Kelsey, Amanda, Cecilia, Caiti) and everyone I know and all the people I want to know better were. I didn't see presents, I saw myself dancing with scores of boys and handfuls of girls, playing games and having in-depth conversations with intelligent, interesting people before finally crashing in one giant puppy pile, surrounded by those I love. I haven't seen Amanda or Kelsey in six years. I haven't seen Cil in three. I'm not close enough or cool enough for the Westies to want to come to my party. I'm just being stupid. Maybe I won't have any parties this year, I am suppose to be growing up after all.
I ought to get to work. I've been writing this while talking to people. I need to finish it up. Much Love~J

(no subject)

There is so little to tie me to this world. If I were to die what would have been lost? No genius, no wife, no mother. Very few would mourn my passing. They would feel the same as I do when I hear of the death of people I don't know, "That poor lady. I hope she rests in peace." It would barley register, a blip and a quick, silent prayer and then they would be gone. I think my parents would mourn me, I know they would, I would never do something like kill myself because it's cowardly and because I couldn't do that to them. But if I were to die so few would be effected by it. Anthea, Sierra and Jenny would probably miss me, they'd get over it though, they're all stronger than that, eventually I'd be a name they can only just remember. Months, maybe a year for some, and I'll be all but forgotten in the world. It hurts to matter so little but maybe I'll be lucky, maybe it won't last much longer. I've endured nearly two decades, a handful more should be no trouble.
I'm just letting my hormones get to me. You have to go on living; you have to find something to live for- your family, friends, work, even your cat. You have to keep trying until you're too old to go any longer and then, at last, you can finally rest.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?