Great Expectations

Just recently I graduated high school, right? The last few months or so, the teachers got all emotional like. They would tell you how much they were going to miss you and how much fun they had with our class and what not. We had our little award ceremony where we get our prizes for doing shit we should have done anyway, like taking AP classes and taking four years of a certain subject and all that other shit. I mean, you have four years of high school, why shouldn’t I take four years of math? Seriously, quit being lazy, that’s why we’re all so stupid.

But anyway, the last few weeks of school, teachers really get into it. At least they did for me. Almost all of my teachers told me how impressed they are with me and things like that. First of all, I hate when people tell me things like that. It makes me cry. I know that seems odd and sounds stupid, but that’s just what it does. Not like ball or anything, just teary eyed. I think I get embarrassed.

But a lot of my teachers began telling me that I was going to do great things, and that really made me upset. That’s such a scary thing to say. Do you know how much pressure that puts on a person? These people barely know me, all they know about me is what they’ve gathered by that hour I spent in their room five days a week. There are twenty three other hours in the day. How do they know I’m not out selling drugs or stealing from stores? They know nothing about me, or at least very little, yet when they tell me I’m going to do great things they say it with such certainty. I can’t handle that.

I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I have big dreams, but who doesn’t? Dreams mean nothing, it’s reality that counts. What do they even mean by great, anyway? What if all I want to do with my life is be a mommy and raise my kids and take care of my husband? What if all I want to do with my life is be a librarian and never marry? What if all I want to do with my life is become a nun? You may answer, “Well it’s you who defines great. That’s what they meant when they told you that you would do great things. So they we’re right.”

Bullshit. If that’s what they meant, then they would say it to everyone, and I know they don’t. I feel like this post is making me sound conceited, but that’s not the tone I want to give off at all. I’m upset, if anything. But no one refers to being a mum, a librarian, or a nun as great things. Sure, they’re caring, necessary, and noble, but they’re not great, by societal standards anyay. So what do they mean by great?! If they’re so sure I’m going to do them, you’d think they’d give me a hint. There is so much pressure with the word great, so many expectations. I don’t know if I can live up to that. Or if I even want to.

Peace.

Long time...

Greetings,

So I did this blog interview thing and I guess I’m suppose to post the link on one of my posts, so here it is.

http://bloginterviewer.com/randomness/dont-worry-tamara-marcus

It’s like some website that interviews writers of certain blogs to help get them more publicity or something. I’m not sure how reputable it is, but I figured I might as well do it. It can’t hurt, right? You can read my interview if you want, it just explains my blog a little more, so if you’re a new reader, it might give you a better idea of what it is I do, or at least try to do.

I’ve been really busy the past few weeks, graduating and shit. I leave in a couple of days for my internship in Taiwan. I’m actually keeping a travel blog, so if any of you are interested in checking it out, here’s the address:

tsmarcus90.wordpress.com

That blog is just about my Taiwan adventures though, this will continue to be my home base. I should get back to posting regularly in the next week, so look back soon. I’ve been working on this story recently, and I want to try out a few paragraphs on you, so look for that too.

Until then,

peace.

this is what i got

I’m not the best talker. I mean, I can hold a decent conversation with almost anybody, it’s not hard to find something in common. Although I don’t particularly enjoy small talk, I am amazing at participating in it. It’s the big talk that always gets me, the personal topics. It’s very difficult for me to share any information of value with people, I can’t think of one person who knows about my life. It seems, that by being so well trained at small talk, I have successfully managed to keep my secrets secret.

I realize that this quality of secrecy has probably hindered many of my friendships and most likely all of my relationships, with old boyfriends, as well as with family. Do I like it? No. But can I fix it? I have no idea how. I believe that this is why I found such solace in this blog. I am a very emotional person, but a strong one too, which is a horrible combination. Because I have such intense emotions, I feel great sadness at times. I cry a lot. But because I wish to maintain my strong image, I cannot share anything with anyone, for fear of crying in front of them. That is my biggest embarrassment. It could be because I don’t want to appear weak, or it could be because I hate sympathy more than anything else. But I guess that goes back to the weak thing, doesn’t it? I view sympathy as an emotion given to those you pity, and you know that when you’re pitied, you’re perceived as weak. I understand the emotion of sympathy, and I am not afraid to experience it, to give it. But when you are the one it is being given to, that doesn’t make you feel good either. To me, sympathy is the emotion you give in lieu of a better one, like happiness. Why would I want sympathy when what I really want is happiness? The presence of sympathy just highlights the fact that I am not happy, and I don’t need to be reminded of that.

I am told that depression is common, which reassures me some. Given the way I feel, I have no other explanation than depression. MInd you, this post is not intended to be whiny, or generate sympathy of any kind, because my words above are genuine, I really do hate it. This post is mostly for me, I think, because this is the only way I know how to talk, and I have so much I need to get off of my mind. It seems like my depression didn’t start until last year. It was around the middle of the school year. I was convinced I was going insane, but I now recognize it as the same feeling I’ve felt on and off since then, and I’m almost sure it’s depression. Just recently it seems like it’s been getting worse. I’ve come up with a set of reasons that could have resulted in this.

For starters, my grandfather died a few months ago. Notice how I say died, not passed away, or some other stupid euphemism. That wasn’t accidental. You could say I’m not quite over it yet, but that’s a whole other post.

My grandpa dying, I think, added to another reason I think it might be worse. I think it’s caused me to start thinking about my dad more. Like I’ve said before on here, I never really got to know him, or even see him. My grandpa was like my only father figure, and I think it’s just brought about a lot of confusion about my father.

My last reason is stress. Stress and worry. I think with school ending soon and AP exams, I’ve just been a little stressed lately. Not to mention the worry about next year and going to college, and of course, paying for school. It’s just a scary time right now, trying to figure out if I’m going in the right direction.

I don’t know, there’s probably more going on and other stuff I should talk about, but this post is long enough, and I’m tired of analyzing for the time being. Just try not to worry.

peace.

title

Today, I realized just how old I really am, and it terrified me. I have never felt like an adult, I mean an actual adult. I’ve felt adult-ish, but I’ve never felt committed to the idea of being an adult. But today, when I looked in the mirror, I realized that that’s what I was, that it’s what I am. I look at the freshmen walking in our halls, and they all look so young. I remember being a freshman, and looking at the seniors and thinking, “They look so old.” That’s how I must look to them...old, like an adult.

I suppose everyone has this moment, when they realize they have passed from the land of the child to that of the adult, but does it usually come this early? I’m only 18. I had always thought that if you continued doing the things that have always made you happy, you could always retain a bit of child in you. But as I look through my room, and through myself, I find that all the things I enjoy doing, all the movies I like, all the books I read, all the things I say and think, and believe, they’re all so adult, and I don’t know when the fuck this happened, or how I could ever let it happen, but I feel as though I’ve lost those very things I thought I never could. And I have no idea what to do now.

Even this blog, this very post, in fact, ages me. But these are the things I’ve made my home in the past years. It’s not a real a home though. It’s one built on the idea that the more you read, the more you learn, the more you feel, the more interesting you’ll become. Fuck that. In all reality, the only thing that happens is you become enlightened enough to realize that interesting and creative don’t mean shit. Enlightenment condemns you.

I don’t want beliefs. I don’t want literature. I don’t want knowledge. I don’t want to be an adult.

peace.

happy monday

I hope this short note finds you all in good spirits on this wonderful, early Monday night. I felt very close to a moment of ultimate calm, and I thought a short post might complete this near serenity experience.

Some things for you to ponder, if interested:

First, are you one who takes their time to go to work? Or are you one who rushes to go nowhere?

And second, somewhat connected perhaps. How many ticks are in your seconds? How much joy in your minutes.

Not having a job is peace. Now I just need to find my calling. Make the most of the day that's been given.

peace.

i'll trade you

So, I recently quit Culver’s. After three and a half years working in that blue hell, I finally managed to make it out, and thank gosh I’m alive. Why, you ask? Was the pay too low? Well, yeah. Were the working conditions sucky? Oh god yes. Were my managers bitchy. Fuck yeah! But that’s not the main reason. It was mostly because I was told to take my nose ring out, and homie wasn’t having that. So I quit. Do I have a new job? Nope. Am I going to get a new job? Maybe. Should I have found a new job before I quit? That would have been the smart thing, but it’s fun to be irrational sometimes too.

But while I was laying in bed, enjoying all the comforts of unemployment, I began thinking about how I’m going to buy things from now on. I’d rather not break into my savings and my mother is eventually going to get tired of me asking her for money, so what am I going to do? And as I looked about my room, clothes I probably didn’t need strewn about the floor, my mac I probably could have done without on my desk, and my movie posters I most likely paid too much for hanging on my wall, I realized what these possessions meant. I have no real connection to these things, no real use for them. People have long since survived with three pairs of jeans, no computer, and no decorative posters with Johnny Depp and Penelope Cruz lounging on the floor, so why do I feel the need to have these. Perhaps the only thing that would be difficult to part with would be my books. And yet I have these things, things I don’t really need, and you know what that translates into? Time, and then eventually life. My life is in this computer, in these clothes, in these posters. I have sacrificed my time, and ultimately moments of my life to purchase these things. I have traded forgone memories, experiences, pieces of my life, for these possessions, clothes that will wear out, computers that will break, and posters that will rip. And when I think about this, I wonder, was it worth it?

peace

make your move

So while I’m not taking Robinson’s crazy side on the issue of Haiti, this whole thing bothers me. It’s the one thing I really hate about America, and news in general. The only time shit like this makes headlines, the only time people know about how sucky our world is, is when something big happens. Haiti’s government and society has been in turmoil for years; actually, ever since the French first colonized the Haitian “savages”. But who cared to notice? Not half the people caring now.

I know Haiti's situation is fucked right now, and I applaud all those people who are willing to help and are putting in the effort to clean this up. But I also beg those same people, all people actually, to give a damn before something like this happens. Right now, Haiti has been getting the attention, all the sympathy. But there are other countries out there, people who need help are waiting. Why can’t we make a move now, work on prevention so we don’t have to worry about cleaning the mess up. Look beyond yourselves. It’s hard to do that sometimes, especially with all the things we’ve been given. Damn we’re lucky. But I implore you, make your move now, don’t wait for something big to act, something big to go wrong, because I assure you, it’s the little things that make the difference.

peace