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I sat in biochem this morning and half listened to Bogomolni talk about membrane structure and whatnot, and half paid attention to the piece of paper I was writing on. I wrote today for the first time since the weekend Nanny died, and it felt good to get writing out onto paper again. I missed writing. I love the way holding a pen feels, and I love the way the words flow out when I write in cursive. It also felt good to get some feelings out that I can't necessarily post on livejournal. I feel like I've been very public lately with my life and with my feelings, and I've encountered a great deal of... well, it just seems like everyone has some criticism to give, and everything contradicts. I'm tired of being criticized, and it was nice to get some feelings onto a piece of paper that only I will ever see. Maybe I can start carrying my journal around with me again. I'm finding I miss its presence.
This weekend was absolutely horrible. It wasn't that I studied all weekend, it was that I felt so much guilt over doing things that I wanted to do, and that I felt so much guilt about NOT doing things I didn't want to do. My housemates have been trying to set me up with a guy I kissed while I was drunk a few weeks ago, and I do not, under any circumstances, ever want to see that particular guy again. Which I know is impossible, since my housemate is his best friend. But it's done no good to tell my housemate and his girlfriend that I was drunk, that the age difference IS significant to me, that I'm just not interested in this guy. And I feel guilty, because I used to be very close to my housemate and his girlfriend, and I feel like they now see me as some sort of... slut.
Which leads me into another topic. Why is it that I'm not allowed to make mistakes? Why is it that when I DO make mistakes, people seem to freak out at me? I shouldn't have kissed him in the first place, fine. But (well, he kissed me. So maybe I should say I shouldn't have struck up a conversation with him in the first place, because the kissing was definitely NOT my idea. nor was it my idea of a fun time) things happened the way they happened, I made my mistakes, the past is past. But I'm still suffering for it. I'm still suffering for not studying harder. I'm still suffering for being stupid about Jamie--I suffer with the B- on my transcript, I suffer with the once burned/twice shy syndrome, I suffer with the knowledge that my friends think differently of me because of the way I acted with him and after the breakup. I want my mistakes to die, I want them to be forgotten. I am not a sum of my mistakes. I am a sum of my accomplishments, and that list is long and impressive. So why do I still FEEL like a slut, even though I'm not, and even though only a few people seem to think I am? Why is it that criticisms hit me so hard?
This weekend was good in that I went on a wonderful date with a guy I made wait for an entire month. I feel bad now that I made him wait, but I'm glad he stuck it out. I hope I didn't scare him off with my psychotic nerd scientist personality. But he didn't seem to be scared off. And he didn't try to seduce me on the first date. Which, if you'll recall, is completely the opposite of the guy who kissed me while I was drunk. :-(
I've been really, really stressed out this quarter. I'm still dealing with Nanny's death, and it's had a huge impact on my life. I loved her. I miss her. I feel bad that I'm recovering, because she meant more to me than a single month's mourning. But I know I can't mourn her forever, and that she would want me to forget and to move on. But I loved her too much to do that. This quarter has just been one long struggle to stay on my feet, to remember who I am and why I'm in science, to keep carrying on by my lonesome self. I have some very, very good friends in the world, but I only have one good friend in Santa Cruz, and that's hard on me. I've been here a year and a half and I only have one good friend. That makes me sad. It took me less than six months at McQueen to assemble a small group that eventually ended up growing into the Goons (although I don't claim credit for our formation. I just claim credit for befriending Lyla and eventually Alicia :-P ). Maybe it's because I'm so focused on school now. Maybe it's because it's easier to form friendships when you're young and easily amused and so easily changed. People in college are more... formed, and they have their own ideas of what they want and where they're going. People are like me. They have set goals and don't want to be distracted. But it still makes me sad.
At the same time, I kind of just wish the whole world would leave me alone to do my own thing. I have so much life ahead of me, and so much I want to accomplish. I just want to be free to do those things. (Note to readers: this is NOT a hint or a suggestion that any of you should go away. If you're reading my livejournal, you're one of the people I want to keep in my life.) And sometimes I wish that all those people, the housemates and the loud shallow people on the bus and the stupid people in my classes and the creepy older guys, all those people would just disappear, and I would be left with a few good friends, a few intelligent people yet to meet, and some interesting guys that I could have fun conversations with during movies and over ice cream.
I resolve to NOT go out with Nate. He can go find himself some other drunk 19-year-old to kiss against her will. I don't care what my housemates have to say about that.
This weekend was absolutely horrible. It wasn't that I studied all weekend, it was that I felt so much guilt over doing things that I wanted to do, and that I felt so much guilt about NOT doing things I didn't want to do. My housemates have been trying to set me up with a guy I kissed while I was drunk a few weeks ago, and I do not, under any circumstances, ever want to see that particular guy again. Which I know is impossible, since my housemate is his best friend. But it's done no good to tell my housemate and his girlfriend that I was drunk, that the age difference IS significant to me, that I'm just not interested in this guy. And I feel guilty, because I used to be very close to my housemate and his girlfriend, and I feel like they now see me as some sort of... slut.
Which leads me into another topic. Why is it that I'm not allowed to make mistakes? Why is it that when I DO make mistakes, people seem to freak out at me? I shouldn't have kissed him in the first place, fine. But (well, he kissed me. So maybe I should say I shouldn't have struck up a conversation with him in the first place, because the kissing was definitely NOT my idea. nor was it my idea of a fun time) things happened the way they happened, I made my mistakes, the past is past. But I'm still suffering for it. I'm still suffering for not studying harder. I'm still suffering for being stupid about Jamie--I suffer with the B- on my transcript, I suffer with the once burned/twice shy syndrome, I suffer with the knowledge that my friends think differently of me because of the way I acted with him and after the breakup. I want my mistakes to die, I want them to be forgotten. I am not a sum of my mistakes. I am a sum of my accomplishments, and that list is long and impressive. So why do I still FEEL like a slut, even though I'm not, and even though only a few people seem to think I am? Why is it that criticisms hit me so hard?
This weekend was good in that I went on a wonderful date with a guy I made wait for an entire month. I feel bad now that I made him wait, but I'm glad he stuck it out. I hope I didn't scare him off with my psychotic nerd scientist personality. But he didn't seem to be scared off. And he didn't try to seduce me on the first date. Which, if you'll recall, is completely the opposite of the guy who kissed me while I was drunk. :-(
I've been really, really stressed out this quarter. I'm still dealing with Nanny's death, and it's had a huge impact on my life. I loved her. I miss her. I feel bad that I'm recovering, because she meant more to me than a single month's mourning. But I know I can't mourn her forever, and that she would want me to forget and to move on. But I loved her too much to do that. This quarter has just been one long struggle to stay on my feet, to remember who I am and why I'm in science, to keep carrying on by my lonesome self. I have some very, very good friends in the world, but I only have one good friend in Santa Cruz, and that's hard on me. I've been here a year and a half and I only have one good friend. That makes me sad. It took me less than six months at McQueen to assemble a small group that eventually ended up growing into the Goons (although I don't claim credit for our formation. I just claim credit for befriending Lyla and eventually Alicia :-P ). Maybe it's because I'm so focused on school now. Maybe it's because it's easier to form friendships when you're young and easily amused and so easily changed. People in college are more... formed, and they have their own ideas of what they want and where they're going. People are like me. They have set goals and don't want to be distracted. But it still makes me sad.
At the same time, I kind of just wish the whole world would leave me alone to do my own thing. I have so much life ahead of me, and so much I want to accomplish. I just want to be free to do those things. (Note to readers: this is NOT a hint or a suggestion that any of you should go away. If you're reading my livejournal, you're one of the people I want to keep in my life.) And sometimes I wish that all those people, the housemates and the loud shallow people on the bus and the stupid people in my classes and the creepy older guys, all those people would just disappear, and I would be left with a few good friends, a few intelligent people yet to meet, and some interesting guys that I could have fun conversations with during movies and over ice cream.
I resolve to NOT go out with Nate. He can go find himself some other drunk 19-year-old to kiss against her will. I don't care what my housemates have to say about that.
