I have to preface this one, with the following message to all reader who have read my previous post entitled "Depression." I appreciate the few of you that have gotten in contact with me over Facebook via commenting on my status or by private message. I really do appreciate it. But let me explain something. While your intentions may have been pure, they do not come off that way to me. It has nothing to do with you, and I don't hold any grudges against you, as you were only trying to help, it does however have everything to do with the way I am wired.
Whenever someone tells me I need help, psychological help, therapeutic help, whatever kind of help, and they aren't being sarcastic, I take it personally. I can't help it either. It's just how I work. So telling me I need a therapist, or that I should look into getting one to talk about my problems with someone, isn't good for me. it's actually detrimental. It makes me feel that you think I am inferior to you in some way, regardless of whether or not you actually do, and it actually makes me feel worse. In other words, I appreciate that you are trying to help, but please stop, because it isn't helping, it's making it worse.
I'm not suffering, so don't worry. One day in near a thousand day's where I break down in tears is not a sufferer make. It was much more common back in the day, but I have managed to get myself out of the funk, whatever funk I was in, am now a (somewhat) normal and functioning member of society. the day's on which I lose my emotions, which again isn't common in the slightest, has nothing to do with what has been going on in my life (i.e. stress, a break-up, or the death of a beloved character in a show, book, or movie), it's totally random and out of my control. And while yes, on some days - most days even - I don't want to get out of bed, and I literally have to roll myself out to get up, that's nothing that should be worried about either. Because who wants to get up in the morning anyways.
All that being said. I again, thank those who were worried enough to reach out to me, but please, stop.
By the way. These will likely be coming out slower, one to two a week at most - as opposed to two or three a week. I've realized that I have been pumping these out too fast, and i am slowly running out of things to talk about if I plan to keep this pace and blog length. so I'm just going to slow down the pace of blog posts and get these out when I get around to it and have more to talk about.
School is coming to an end. And that terrifies me for two reasons.
REASON ONE: I have to go live in the "real world" soon.
REASON TWO: I am getting old. I'll be 22 for Pete's sake. TWENTY TWO.
Despite my hatred of Taylor Swift and her music, I couldn't resist using this .GIF.
To backtrack a bit. Back to the depression stuff briefly. the only thing that kept running through my head, is how much do people actually know me. Do they just know who I am, as in, they just match the face to the name. Do they know my writing style, my voice (verbal, sonical, and prosal). Do the people that don't read this really know me?
It's a serious question. and I guess it doesn't just pertain to me either. It relates to anyone really. How much do the people you interact with daily, know about you, do they know the real you, or a projection? I'm getting all philosophical and I love it, because questions like this fuel my existence. I believe that maybe only twenty people know I'm a sufferer of "self-diagnosed mild depression" outside of this blog and its readers. I feel like we want to believe that we know the people around us. But do we really? I'd say three to five people know the "real me" while everyone else has this vague idea, and I don't think that's anyone's fault. It's just really difficult to actually know someone. You could easily think you know someone, through daily interaction. But, and be honest now, have you ever had one of those "I thought I knew that person" moments. I guess that's really where my question stems from. How much do we really know, the people we think we know. Think about it. Get back to me. We'll do a discussion in the comments section if you so wish. :Lets have some fun with it.
Back to college the stuff. My life as a college student is ending. My final semester starts at the end of January. My final semester. Final semester. Final. Semester. Sorry, blacked out there in a haze of my own sadness that I am no longer going to be going to Brockport. I grew up in a town similar to Brockport, so it sort of became a home away from home for me. I'm not sure what the town is like when all the college students go away, and frankly, I feel bad for the townspeople that have to deal with the majority of the student body that inhabits their town for roughly six months.
The Pitch Perfect GIFs have begun, there's no stopping them now.
Pre-Registration week starts on November 4. This terrifies me, for two reasons.
REASON ONE + TWO: Redundancy.
In all seriousness though, I'm slowly coming to the realization that soon I will be leaving this little college town behind me and moving on to potentially better things. Like sitting in my home office behind a computer screen with writers block trying to finish the next great american novel and failing horribly. Or going to Chicago in a year or two for film school. Why Chicago you ask?
Pre-Registration means class registration. I need fifteen credits to graduate on time, and that means five classes at three credits each. I broke it down for those who aren't so good at the mathematics - no offense, or offense if you wanna fight. COME AT ME, BRO!
I'll take you all on.
It's looking like I'm going to do three English courses, and two Film Studies courses. Children's Lit, Modern Myth, and Advanced Fiction Workshop for the former, Ecocinema and Film History part 2 for the latter. I believe, that actually works out to be like, four classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays with one class Mondays (M), Wednesdays (W), and Fridays (F). While five classes on Tuesdays (T) and Thursdays (R) would have been quite extreme, it would also mean that every week I get from Thursday night to Tuesday morning off from classes, and that alone would make it well worth it. Granted the one MWF class, with it being at like one fifteen, is pretty light too, I don't have to wake up super early. I do have to get up for class that is at like nine thirty on TR, But at least it isn't an eight o'clock class, I swore never again, and I have succeeded. eight o'clock classes are my own personal Hell. If there is a Hell, it's eight o'clock classes.
More on the scheduling for my final semester as it comes up. Also, dear girl who talks to me about Pokemon before my Modern Logic class.
That is all. Blog over. Have a video.
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