David's Journal [entries|friends|calendar] David [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[09 Apr 2004|07:40am] I totally forgot that this thing existed. You are a GRAMMAR GOD! If your mission in life is not already to preserve the English tongue, it should be. Congratulations and thank you! How grammatically sound are you? brought to you by Quizilla 1 -paint a still life

[21 Feb 2004|08:09pm] [ mood | all I want is to drown in coffee ] I have never felt so ashamed of myself. 1 -paint a still life

[12 Feb 2004|04:24pm] [ mood | anxious ] [ music | The Smiths "This Charming Man" ] I keep coming up with excuses for not turning in my philosophy paper even though I know it would be impossible to make it any better without an extraordinary amount of effort (which I am not up for, given my current health). I hate this constant rumination; I hate being so grade-driven that I have to constantly ruminate. Tomorrow, it's over. I have to just get it in, even if it means getting a C. If I don't, I think I will truly go mad. But on a positive note, there's a long, class-free weekend to look forward to and I plan to savor every minute of it. paint a still life

[07 Feb 2004|08:21pm] [ mood | lonely ] [ music | Suede "Sleeping Pills" ] It's impossible to fathom how much I miss her. I keep sitting around expectantly, as if she's going to show up, but I know it's going to be at least thirteen more hours. I just want to feel her presence, if only for the briefest moment. My imagination is my only refuge. I hate depression for draining me of all motivation. I know I should be using this time (God forbid I have to leave her once she's back) to study and work on my papers, but I only feel content when mindlessly glued to the computer chair. I'm like a junkie needing his fix, but this is just an empty realization; I know I'm not going to do anything about it. I wish somebody would figure out what's "wrong" with me so I can begin to work toward a solution. Hopefully today's testing will be revealing, because I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. paint a still life

[31 Jan 2004|10:42pm] [ mood | nostalgic ] [ music | Placebo "The Bitter End" ] Ironically, homesickness has only washed over me now that I am actually back in California. The scenery is so warm and inviting here, and I take comfort in its familiarity. The prospect of going back to school tomorrow morning is nauseating. I can't deny that I am happy there, but the friends and the family I am leaving behind are significant sacrifices. Maybe this is just the funk I am in talking, but I am starting to doubt that it's worth it. I saw my doctor on Thursday and he decided to keep me on Zoloft and to up the dosage. Having suffered extreme withdrawal symptoms, I don't fully understand his reasoning, but as long as things begin to look up for me I'll be willing to "go with the flow." Earlier in the week, I wrote about wanting to experience genuine feelings; however, at this point I am so sick of the pain that I will take any form of happiness, "artificial" or not. The thing is that I should be happy, and in some respects, I am. In the past two weeks, I have fallen madly in love with the most intelligent, respectable, and beautiful girl; I made it through finals with more than decent grades; I spent a weekend back home. I couldn't ask for more. Nothing is missing, yet something is depserately wrong. My stomach has been horribly upset for the past week, I can't maintain a normal sleep schedule, and I am frequently breaking into cold sweats. Everyone has been assuring me that it's "just the depression" or "just Zoloft withdrawal," but I hate having to attribute everything to my mental condition. For once, I think it's something more. 3 -paint a still life

[28 Jan 2004|08:41pm] [ mood | crushed ] [ music | Fischerspooner "Natural Disaster" ] "Or should I say he simply didn't like my nature -- the fact that I was drawn to art rather than business, to people rather than to things, to men rather than to women, to my mother rather than to him, books rather than to sports, sentiments not responsibilites, love not money?" -- Edmund White, A Boy's Own Story It has always been so easy for me to express myself through someone else's words, but when it comes to my own, I never know quite what to say. I just wish I could stop yearning for my father's understanding; at age eighteen, this shouldn't have such great bearing on my life, yet it does. paint a still life

[26 Jan 2004|04:11pm] [ mood | anxious ] [ music | Tears For Fears "Mad World" ] Pardon my rambling self-pity, but I am now on my fourth attempt at the "perfect" entry and even with the words at my fingertips, I can't help speaking through Roland Orzabal: "Their tears are feeling up their glasses, no expression, no expression; hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow, no tomorrow, no tomorrow; and I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had." I am so distant and my hands feel useless. This inability to write is distressing; words have always been my refuge and without them, I feel raw and bare. Maybe coming off of Zoloft was a bad idea, but artificial happiness has never brought me comfort and stability has never taught me a thing. I want to rest assured that I am not merely a product of chemicals; I need to know that my love is love, that my happiness is happiness, that my pride is pride. Undoubtedly, in the long run, going through life uncertain is more harmful than facing reality. 2 -paint a still life

[25 Jan 2004|08:04pm] [ mood | groggy ] [ music | Pulp "Cocaine Socialism" ] "Whenever you find that you are on the side of the majority, it is time to reform." -- Mark Twain Having escaped the tedium of high school, I'd like to think that I could make bold intellectual adventures, but I find myself dwelling on the same principles and confined by the same restraints. Grades still overrule my passion for learning; the curriculum still sets my guidelines; the teacher, though to a lesser extent, still controls my opinions. I am a slave to other people's expectations, even in moments of self-proclaimed freedom. College is supposed to be the time to "do something" with your life; instead, I am once again bound down by the system. I wish I had it in me not to care about rules and regulations. These are the values I preach, but when it comes down to living them, I am the biggest hypocrite. paint a still life

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