It finally hit me about a week or so ago that I'm in fourth year, and I'm definitely feeling nostalgic. Everything that happens now causes me to drift into memory lane.
The other day someone finally stole my bike, and all of a sudden a rush of memories started pouring in. I remembered the day the key broke off in my bike lock and I said to myself, "Well fuck if I'm going to buy another lock, I should've never trusted Wal-mart." I never did replace that lock. Then I remembered getting hit by a van in second year, fixing it that summer, and then destroying it in the snow the following winter, riding it through the snow on the way to a soccer tournament. I wasn't even put off by the fact that henceforth I am forced to walk my lazy ass to school and work; the memories used up my emotional reserve.
Everytime I see someone in the halls I get a quick memory of when I first met them, and each memory seems so blurry. It's amazing how much you can do in four years outside of studying in a program you hate. In any case, those memories are normally followed up by feelings of sadness, because it's so depressing to realise that I've known these people for over three years, but the last day I'll likely see most or any of them again is coming up in less than one.
It was easy to make this transition in highschool. I knew that if anything I would get to know more people, and they'd be more like me. Actually, I wasn't different than my highschool friends outside of the fact that I played soccer, which could have been said for about 10 other people at Pearson in my day. This time around, I'm not sure what will be. Taking my victory lap in school should be fun. I'm excited to be in school when around 80 percent of the people I know now aren't around anymore - sounds a lot like first year, in fact. But after that who knows? I don't. I need to date a first year girl, so that when I'm off doing my own thing after graduation, I can hang out with her and her friends and rekindle memories of my prime social years.
Isn't it peculiar that every time I suggest a personal problem on this blog, it can be easily resolved with the addition of a girlfriend to my life?
You're right, it isn't peculiar at all. But more on that to come.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Friday, October 07, 2005
Echoes from the past
In first year my brother forced me to read a book on proper study habits. After 20 pages I stopped reading it, for two reasons. First, I was getting marked on first year psych, but not on this book, so I made an immature attempt at cost-benefit analysis. Second, the first chapter was devoted to establishing a dichotomy between friendship and good grades. Every page went further to suggest that friends do nothing but waste your time and stand in the way of good grades; friends will hold you down, and step on you if given the chance to better their own grades at your expense. I'm all about breaking dichotomies, so I set out on a path to mediate between friendship and good grades. I figured I would find the 'middle-path' and enjoy the best of both worlds.
My friendships and my grades to date are both mediocre.
Kinda ironic. I sought after mediation and ended up in mediocrity. I say my grades are mediocre because I'm tiptoeing between a B- and a C+ average. As for my friendships...
They feel very one-sided, for the most part. Some nights I stay up late just thinking about the emotional load that one or more of my friends has dropped on me, over coffee, over msn, or over the phone. Sometimes I can't fall asleep until I've come to a consensus about what to tell Tanya or Annie or Tampon or Yoni (or...) about their 'situation.' I wake up the next morning on 4-hrs sleep, go to school, go to work, come home, try to study, try to work out, then check my phone before bed, just to prepare myself for another situation.
It's not that vicious a cycle. It's not everyday. It's maybe 3-times a week, but it's enough to keep me distracted. And some weeks I get through without hearing even one. But I don't offer thanks for the break, because there's no time to stop and thank when midterms come around. I also don't offer thanks because I know that I'm not being offered a break because I have a test that week, I'm being offered a break because everyone else has a mid-term that week!
It's kind of like the breaks at work; nobody cares that I didn't get to have breakfast, so I'm in fact eating breakfast from 3-4pm somewhere on Kingston road. Rather, it's simply most beneficial for the bank to schedule my breaks from 3-4, when Toronto's busy commuting, and have me tending to the lineups during peak hours. Then when things calm down around 4, I'll be back at my wicket, ready to serve.
I've never brought this up before, because I've never blamed my friends for this. If I resented my friends personally for this, I'd likely not still be their friend. I don't think many people even realise the full-effect of pouring out their grievances. A substance poured has to be caught by something. That something is me, the emotional sponge.
As with a sponge, sometimes you have to just keep pouring and pouring until it bleeds on its own before you realise that it can't hold anymore. This post is my blood. As with a sponge, most people are so self-satisfied after having finished cleaning the muck that they don't even care to ring the sponge out after they're done with it. At best, they give it a quick squeeze before discarding it for later use; we call those hugs in day-to-day life. So here I lay, soaked with emotional deposits and rank with foul-smelling sediments of sentiment.
I will even be so combative as to ask my friends, "How many hours of sleep have you sacrificed solely for my benefit? How many minutes?" If being a sponge isn't a strong enough analogy to convey the one-sidedness of my friendships, close and far, then let me further say this: I need help.
I need help because what I often get as friendship is mere ear-service, coupled-with uh-huh's and okays, tripled with relating my problem back to their own problems, quadrupled with vague impersonal maxims like, "Everything will end up fine," or "if it's meant to be..." or "that sucks, sorry!" But as much as I resent those phrases I don't even hate the deliverers of them, because behind each of those phrases lies the ultimate phrase, "I don't know what to say."
'I don't know what to say,' is enough to make me believe that people do care, but just can't help. But when you hear it time and again, you start to think that people just don't care to help. And a lot of the time, that's simply the truth. If you haven't heard from me in awhile, and my msn name (aka cry for help) has been shitty for a month, and I've been shaving less often than normal, eating more, and seem more distant, I hope that it isn't exam period, because if it is, I'll be dealing with myself all on my own.
A part of me, as I continue to write this post even wants to apologize for belittling my friendships, because I think my friends mean well. But no, not today.
I'm well aware of the 'holes' to my 'argument' like, "I'm not the easiest person to help" or "My friends aren't psychologists" or "Maybe if I just called all of them up to complain, I'd feel better too!" Actually I tried the last one out on Yoni for about a week, to no avail, I still feel like as much shit as I did yesterday. She tried. And as I write this post, I have Nicole messaging me on msn asking me if everything's okay. I lied as usual. Tonight I lied because I preferred to blog. Most night I lie because I just don't see the point.
"He's a complicated man, and no-one understands him but his woman." As most of you know, I am womanless, so cut the last part of that song out.
So yea, I could cover for my argument easily - and possibly should, what with my Art of Thinking midterm coming up soon - and I could prove that my friendships are one-sided. But I'm not trying to be right. I'm just tired.
My friendships and my grades to date are both mediocre.
Kinda ironic. I sought after mediation and ended up in mediocrity. I say my grades are mediocre because I'm tiptoeing between a B- and a C+ average. As for my friendships...
They feel very one-sided, for the most part. Some nights I stay up late just thinking about the emotional load that one or more of my friends has dropped on me, over coffee, over msn, or over the phone. Sometimes I can't fall asleep until I've come to a consensus about what to tell Tanya or Annie or Tampon or Yoni (or...) about their 'situation.' I wake up the next morning on 4-hrs sleep, go to school, go to work, come home, try to study, try to work out, then check my phone before bed, just to prepare myself for another situation.
It's not that vicious a cycle. It's not everyday. It's maybe 3-times a week, but it's enough to keep me distracted. And some weeks I get through without hearing even one. But I don't offer thanks for the break, because there's no time to stop and thank when midterms come around. I also don't offer thanks because I know that I'm not being offered a break because I have a test that week, I'm being offered a break because everyone else has a mid-term that week!
It's kind of like the breaks at work; nobody cares that I didn't get to have breakfast, so I'm in fact eating breakfast from 3-4pm somewhere on Kingston road. Rather, it's simply most beneficial for the bank to schedule my breaks from 3-4, when Toronto's busy commuting, and have me tending to the lineups during peak hours. Then when things calm down around 4, I'll be back at my wicket, ready to serve.
I've never brought this up before, because I've never blamed my friends for this. If I resented my friends personally for this, I'd likely not still be their friend. I don't think many people even realise the full-effect of pouring out their grievances. A substance poured has to be caught by something. That something is me, the emotional sponge.
As with a sponge, sometimes you have to just keep pouring and pouring until it bleeds on its own before you realise that it can't hold anymore. This post is my blood. As with a sponge, most people are so self-satisfied after having finished cleaning the muck that they don't even care to ring the sponge out after they're done with it. At best, they give it a quick squeeze before discarding it for later use; we call those hugs in day-to-day life. So here I lay, soaked with emotional deposits and rank with foul-smelling sediments of sentiment.
I will even be so combative as to ask my friends, "How many hours of sleep have you sacrificed solely for my benefit? How many minutes?" If being a sponge isn't a strong enough analogy to convey the one-sidedness of my friendships, close and far, then let me further say this: I need help.
I need help because what I often get as friendship is mere ear-service, coupled-with uh-huh's and okays, tripled with relating my problem back to their own problems, quadrupled with vague impersonal maxims like, "Everything will end up fine," or "if it's meant to be..." or "that sucks, sorry!" But as much as I resent those phrases I don't even hate the deliverers of them, because behind each of those phrases lies the ultimate phrase, "I don't know what to say."
'I don't know what to say,' is enough to make me believe that people do care, but just can't help. But when you hear it time and again, you start to think that people just don't care to help. And a lot of the time, that's simply the truth. If you haven't heard from me in awhile, and my msn name (aka cry for help) has been shitty for a month, and I've been shaving less often than normal, eating more, and seem more distant, I hope that it isn't exam period, because if it is, I'll be dealing with myself all on my own.
A part of me, as I continue to write this post even wants to apologize for belittling my friendships, because I think my friends mean well. But no, not today.
I'm well aware of the 'holes' to my 'argument' like, "I'm not the easiest person to help" or "My friends aren't psychologists" or "Maybe if I just called all of them up to complain, I'd feel better too!" Actually I tried the last one out on Yoni for about a week, to no avail, I still feel like as much shit as I did yesterday. She tried. And as I write this post, I have Nicole messaging me on msn asking me if everything's okay. I lied as usual. Tonight I lied because I preferred to blog. Most night I lie because I just don't see the point.
"He's a complicated man, and no-one understands him but his woman." As most of you know, I am womanless, so cut the last part of that song out.
So yea, I could cover for my argument easily - and possibly should, what with my Art of Thinking midterm coming up soon - and I could prove that my friendships are one-sided. But I'm not trying to be right. I'm just tired.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
How to Live Forever Young
1. Exercise Regularly
2. Eat according to necessity
3. Marry the woman of your dreams
4. Ensure the woman dies first
5. Transfer funds from woman's estate account to personal deposit account
6. Use funds to construct working model of Time Machine
7. Jump to era of scientific advancement involving adavanced cell-regeneration
8. Live forever young
--
9. (Optional) Use machine to scare the shit out of H.G. Wells
2. Eat according to necessity
3. Marry the woman of your dreams
4. Ensure the woman dies first
5. Transfer funds from woman's estate account to personal deposit account
6. Use funds to construct working model of Time Machine
7. Jump to era of scientific advancement involving adavanced cell-regeneration
8. Live forever young
--
9. (Optional) Use machine to scare the shit out of H.G. Wells
Monday, October 03, 2005
Losing touch
Man, what to say. What to say!
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