I'm conflicted as to whether I apologize too much, too little, or just enough.
I know people who want apologies from me that are never going to come. I'm not sorry for my choices, or my words, and although I AM sorry when people get hurt, I don't think it's right to apologize for something that was the right decision. But people will still expect it, and be upset when that apology doesn't arrive. So to those people, and for your frustration, I'm sorry. (Feel better?)
I also know people who say I apologize too much, and for that, I'm also sorry. Or not sorry? What, exactly, is the correct reaction when someone tells you that you apologize too often?
It's that little phrase of "I'm sorry" that often ends up being significant to me. Of all the phrases that are doomed to make me get sentimental and weepy, that sort of hit me more at a core level, "I'm sorry" is one. {That and "I'm proud of you." Both of those two mean a lot to me, for who knows what reason, and my face will start leaking out of all orifices and it's kind of disgusting... yet cleansing.}
Regardless. Apologies:
They can mean nothing. They can mean everything. They can be desired and they can be sought but they are rarely exactly what they need to be. And today, I just wanted to offer my apologies where needed.
To my parents: I'm sorry for the state of my current academic career. It's not what either of us hoped it would be...although I'm bringing up my marks, they're not exactly what I was getting in high school, and I think we're both disappointed in that. I'm sorry for the times I didn't listen to you and we both suffered as a consequence. I'm sorry for all the things I've said or done that made you feel bad, and I'm sorry that I'm not studying right now. But apparently not sorry enough, cause I'm gonna finish it.
To B: I'm sorry I wasn't nicer to you. We could have been solid friends, maybe. And I'm glad we're rebuilding.
To my housemates: I'm sorry I keep leaving my dishes in the sink. I genuinely do intend to clean them within 24 hours, it just takes a while sometimes.
To M: I'm just sorry it's like this.
To my siblings: I'm sorry I'm not always the greatest role model or big sis. I try, but I know I definitely fail more often than I'd like to.
To people in uni who've seen the consequences of my less-than-grand ideas: I'm sorry I didn't live up to the standard I set for myself, and I'm sorry I wasn't as strong a person as I wanted to be. For all the friends I could have made, or the friendships that could have been stronger if I had put in more of an effort, I'm sorry.
To any person I've ever treated like an object lesson, or gotten to know because I thought they'd be an interesting story later, or used as a project or experiment: I'm sorry I didn't think of you as a real person, and/or treated you like you were a piece in my life for my own amusement as opposed to a whole human being with a life of your own. And I'm sorry that you're being included in a generalized, not-necessarily-seen blog post instead of me remembering every single person I've done this to, one way or another.
To the people I need to apologize to, but don't know it or forgot about it: I'm sorry I didn't/don't know, and I wish I did.
Apologies are sometimes freeing. And sometimes not. But they shouldn't be for the sake of seeking absolution, purely. They shouldn't be for the sake of hearing that there's nothing wrong, or necessarily for trying to fix it all either. Cause apologies can't fix everything, although they're often a good start. And they shouldn't just be for show either: I debated whether writing apologies in this setting was really true to the cause and, in the end, I think it accomplished my purpose. Or at least started it. Either way, I'm now going to go put my comment to my parents into action and keep up the studying. Or possibly go to bed and take it up again tomorrow.
Take care, folks.
17.12.10
16.12.10
motivational speech
when the rose-coloured glasses shatter,
shooting shards into eyes already red-rimmed
and inevitably, the salty-sweet, soul-taste leaks out
shake it off
shooting shards into eyes already red-rimmed
and inevitably, the salty-sweet, soul-taste leaks out
shake it off
10.12.10
Prioritizing.
Exams bring out the best and the worst in me, I find.
I also find that they do this to pretty much everyone else too, but since I'm me and not you, I'll share my experience. You can share yours. =P
I am one of those people who procrastinates like nothing else. It's a gift I have, and about as useful as a hairbrush is for a cucumber (if you got that reference...I love you. If you didn't, start watching VeggieTales. Also a great way to procrastinate)
Anyway, back on topic...I'm really good at putting off what I should be doing. And, from what I've witnessed, this is not a unique characteristic. I don't know what it is, but every time I have an assignment due or an exam to study for or anything remotely stressful that I don't want to think about...I don't. I do other things. Like tumblr, twitter, facebook, stumbleupon, bake, clean, iron, patch socks, make puppets, write letters, write blog posts, look up recipes, visit people, sort old papers, call my family, whatever. I live a decently busy life without all the extra junk, really: I work at least twenty hours a week, have school for at least fourteen, and spend (on average) about three and a half hours either on public transit or waiting for it. The rest of my time SHOULD be consumed by school work, but it isn't. Because I procrastinate.
So, why do I procrastinate? Or, perhaps more relevantly to you, why do YOU procrastinate?
Well, maybe the answers are tied together. Or maybe they aren't. But I have a few theories for myself, so you can judge away as to their general accuracy:
I think, for myself, my procrastination tendencies are tied up in the fact that I tied my self-worth together with my academic reputation for a significant portion of my life. In elementary school/junior high, my academic reputation was the area I gleaned a lot of my self-worth from. Doing well in school was my method for obtaining respect from my peers and authority figures, and I worked really hard to obtain that approval. Of course, as you get older, you don't get a gold star for getting good grades. You get scholarship money sometimes, and eventually, you get a degree. Unfortunately, that's never been a big incentive for me (it should be, I know. But it doesn't quite have the same draw.) So, I don't hand things in sometimes, or I'll be afraid to because I don't want to be a nameless face obtaining a grade that just isn't quite good enough. Horrible logic...I know. But it's true.
I also find that the more disorganized I feel, or the more stressed out I get, I just want to avoid the cause of my stress. Recently, my most common escape is playing this game on facebook called tetris. For those of you who don't know, the whole goal of the game is to fit the multicoloured, different-shaped blocks together to fill up a row and get them to disappear, and to not let the stack of blocks reach the top. It's hard to explain but just look it up...you'll figure it out.) Anyway, I think this game is my subconscious way of trying to organize all the chaos in my life into neat, orderly block-piles that I can get rid of.
Maybe the whole procrastination question isn't as mysterious as I thought. Or maybe I knew that all along and I just wanted to write this for the sake of doing something besides my project. Whatever the reason, these are my (attempted) reasons. On the plus side though, the stress really does force me to contemplate the direction I'm taking with my life, and forces me to question whether I really WANT this education and to do well in school.
The answer is yes. I do.
Which is why I'm going to work on my project, right now.
Peace out, girl scouts.
I also find that they do this to pretty much everyone else too, but since I'm me and not you, I'll share my experience. You can share yours. =P
I am one of those people who procrastinates like nothing else. It's a gift I have, and about as useful as a hairbrush is for a cucumber (if you got that reference...I love you. If you didn't, start watching VeggieTales. Also a great way to procrastinate)
Anyway, back on topic...I'm really good at putting off what I should be doing. And, from what I've witnessed, this is not a unique characteristic. I don't know what it is, but every time I have an assignment due or an exam to study for or anything remotely stressful that I don't want to think about...I don't. I do other things. Like tumblr, twitter, facebook, stumbleupon, bake, clean, iron, patch socks, make puppets, write letters, write blog posts, look up recipes, visit people, sort old papers, call my family, whatever. I live a decently busy life without all the extra junk, really: I work at least twenty hours a week, have school for at least fourteen, and spend (on average) about three and a half hours either on public transit or waiting for it. The rest of my time SHOULD be consumed by school work, but it isn't. Because I procrastinate.
So, why do I procrastinate? Or, perhaps more relevantly to you, why do YOU procrastinate?
Well, maybe the answers are tied together. Or maybe they aren't. But I have a few theories for myself, so you can judge away as to their general accuracy:
I think, for myself, my procrastination tendencies are tied up in the fact that I tied my self-worth together with my academic reputation for a significant portion of my life. In elementary school/junior high, my academic reputation was the area I gleaned a lot of my self-worth from. Doing well in school was my method for obtaining respect from my peers and authority figures, and I worked really hard to obtain that approval. Of course, as you get older, you don't get a gold star for getting good grades. You get scholarship money sometimes, and eventually, you get a degree. Unfortunately, that's never been a big incentive for me (it should be, I know. But it doesn't quite have the same draw.) So, I don't hand things in sometimes, or I'll be afraid to because I don't want to be a nameless face obtaining a grade that just isn't quite good enough. Horrible logic...I know. But it's true.
I also find that the more disorganized I feel, or the more stressed out I get, I just want to avoid the cause of my stress. Recently, my most common escape is playing this game on facebook called tetris. For those of you who don't know, the whole goal of the game is to fit the multicoloured, different-shaped blocks together to fill up a row and get them to disappear, and to not let the stack of blocks reach the top. It's hard to explain but just look it up...you'll figure it out.) Anyway, I think this game is my subconscious way of trying to organize all the chaos in my life into neat, orderly block-piles that I can get rid of.
Maybe the whole procrastination question isn't as mysterious as I thought. Or maybe I knew that all along and I just wanted to write this for the sake of doing something besides my project. Whatever the reason, these are my (attempted) reasons. On the plus side though, the stress really does force me to contemplate the direction I'm taking with my life, and forces me to question whether I really WANT this education and to do well in school.
The answer is yes. I do.
Which is why I'm going to work on my project, right now.
Peace out, girl scouts.
3.12.10
Dedicated to a year gone by.
Your kiss is a needle
Getting under my skin
I don't know
[I never knew.]
whether you're giving
or taking,
but:
I know
[I always knew]
beginnings
and ends
are the parts that hurt worst.
Getting under my skin
I don't know
[I never knew.]
whether you're giving
or taking,
but:
I know
[I always knew]
beginnings
and ends
are the parts that hurt worst.
2.12.10
Carleton Library, circa 3 a.m.
This is the first time in second year that I have been awake on the Carleton campus at this sort of ridiculously early hour in the morning. Granted, it happened enough times in first year that I should be well acquainted with the sort of lingering chill/fog/buzz that tends to settle in my brain around this hour. I'm happy because I'm going to be done for the semester soon, worried because (yet again) it kind of feels like I haven't dedicated all the effort I should have into my work...but I think I'm doing better than last year, so it's all up in the air. Mentally, I'm shot. Physically, deteriorating but learning how to survive on less sleep and food and more running around. Friendship-ly, everything's changing and I'm ok with that. Romantically...undecided and intentionally not thinking about it. Spiritually, I feel like I'm slowly getting better. Now that the self-diagnosis is out of the way, back to my comm paper. Or potentially travelling to the third floor and crashing until 6:30 this morning, at which time I'm headed home to shower, grab some food and textbooks, a power nap, and be back at school for 10:30. That's my life, folks. Not the worst, not the best, and not really all that exciting. Sorry.
26.11.10
I like you best, 'cause my heart makes the most interesting sounds every time you break it.
In some recent adventures along my procrastination-filled, insomnia-ridden journey, I recently came across this website titled wouldhavesaid.com. (thanks, StumbleUpon!) Initially, it got my attention because the premise of the page seemed as though it had the potential to get some interesting feedback: "Whether the person has passed away, contact was lost, or the strength needed at the time was lacking, this is a chance to say what you have always wanted them to know."
I've always been drawn to looking back, to hearing people's stories, to honesty, and-frankly- to being kind of a creep and living semi-vicariously through the feelings of other people. So naturally, this site actually caught my attention. The kinds of stories people shared also gripped me: of a woman finally confronting a childhood abuser, of siblings working through the suicide of a sister, of a granddaughter who are is still ashamed of her silence on the day she heard her grandmother being mocked by some kids her age. Stories of lovers lost, of friendships torn apart, and stories of hope. It makes me vaguely uneasy reading through people's stories, and to be honest, I can't really go through too many too often, because I begin to become kind of cynical. I wonder if these stories are true, whether anyone REALLY needs to write a five-page letter about how they miss their cat, and I start judging their writing style. It's not that I'm an awful person--promise--but I think it's a coping mechanism.
I think it's safe to say that everybody has unfinished business of some sort. Things to say, people to make things right with, and stories that haven't been told that really should be. Some stories, while we might not identify with them situation by situation, can hit close to home because the feelings behind it are that raw and difficult to digest. It takes a lot of bravery to deal with our regrets, simply because we often can't always do much about them, particularly when the individuals involved are deceased, or impossible to contact (either for geographical reasons, emotional reasons, or whatever other reason you can come up with.) Reading through some of the entries on the site, and hearing people pour out so much unrestrained emotion is a phenomena that rarely happens in the ordinary world, so it provokes a strange combination of curiosity and detachment and empathy within me, personally. And, since I'm all about the application, makes me wonder who I need to say my "would-have-said's" to now.
Eventually, I came to the perspective that there's a reason we don't often discuss our deepest, most troubling, or most embarrassing "would-have-said's" to people straight to their faces. The primary reason is fear, either of the consequences within oneself, of the individual themselves, or of the aftermath. Sometimes it's easier to go along without confrontation and to deal with things when we feel we are at a place where the individual/individuals are no longer in a position to harm us. Vulnerability is a frightening concept. It's sometimes easier to write out our feelings and thoughts and emotions than it is to actually address them, which is probably part of the reason I blog in the first place. It's like a free therapy session. Sometimes, I like to write out the things I want to say to the people I'm mad at/hurt by/sorry for acting like a jerk to but too embarrassed to admit it to...etc...and then I at least know that, should the opportune moment arrive, I know I'd have something to say.
It's tempting to just go all passive-aggressive here and write out all my innermost frustrations with all the people who stress me out and cause me pain and who I'm too chicken to deal with to their faces right here...but I'm tired and I also think that it is probably a terrible plan, because this is not the time of day to get all up close and personal with my feelings. Or anything besides a pillow and dreamland. But the sound of rain on the roof and my window is peaceful, and I'm kind of addicted to the white light emanating from my computer screen. Maybe I will later. If it seems like an appropriate idea when I wake up. Which will, hopefully, be many, many hours from now.
Night/morning, folks!
I've always been drawn to looking back, to hearing people's stories, to honesty, and-frankly- to being kind of a creep and living semi-vicariously through the feelings of other people. So naturally, this site actually caught my attention. The kinds of stories people shared also gripped me: of a woman finally confronting a childhood abuser, of siblings working through the suicide of a sister, of a granddaughter who are is still ashamed of her silence on the day she heard her grandmother being mocked by some kids her age. Stories of lovers lost, of friendships torn apart, and stories of hope. It makes me vaguely uneasy reading through people's stories, and to be honest, I can't really go through too many too often, because I begin to become kind of cynical. I wonder if these stories are true, whether anyone REALLY needs to write a five-page letter about how they miss their cat, and I start judging their writing style. It's not that I'm an awful person--promise--but I think it's a coping mechanism.
I think it's safe to say that everybody has unfinished business of some sort. Things to say, people to make things right with, and stories that haven't been told that really should be. Some stories, while we might not identify with them situation by situation, can hit close to home because the feelings behind it are that raw and difficult to digest. It takes a lot of bravery to deal with our regrets, simply because we often can't always do much about them, particularly when the individuals involved are deceased, or impossible to contact (either for geographical reasons, emotional reasons, or whatever other reason you can come up with.) Reading through some of the entries on the site, and hearing people pour out so much unrestrained emotion is a phenomena that rarely happens in the ordinary world, so it provokes a strange combination of curiosity and detachment and empathy within me, personally. And, since I'm all about the application, makes me wonder who I need to say my "would-have-said's" to now.
Eventually, I came to the perspective that there's a reason we don't often discuss our deepest, most troubling, or most embarrassing "would-have-said's" to people straight to their faces. The primary reason is fear, either of the consequences within oneself, of the individual themselves, or of the aftermath. Sometimes it's easier to go along without confrontation and to deal with things when we feel we are at a place where the individual/individuals are no longer in a position to harm us. Vulnerability is a frightening concept. It's sometimes easier to write out our feelings and thoughts and emotions than it is to actually address them, which is probably part of the reason I blog in the first place. It's like a free therapy session. Sometimes, I like to write out the things I want to say to the people I'm mad at/hurt by/sorry for acting like a jerk to but too embarrassed to admit it to...etc...and then I at least know that, should the opportune moment arrive, I know I'd have something to say.
It's tempting to just go all passive-aggressive here and write out all my innermost frustrations with all the people who stress me out and cause me pain and who I'm too chicken to deal with to their faces right here...but I'm tired and I also think that it is probably a terrible plan, because this is not the time of day to get all up close and personal with my feelings. Or anything besides a pillow and dreamland. But the sound of rain on the roof and my window is peaceful, and I'm kind of addicted to the white light emanating from my computer screen. Maybe I will later. If it seems like an appropriate idea when I wake up. Which will, hopefully, be many, many hours from now.
Night/morning, folks!
25.11.10
I'll just imagine the caffeine I would intake right about now if I wasn't a broke student without the funds to purchase it.
Today is going to be an interesting day. I can tell. I should know, because I've only missed about two and a half hours of it since it started, and it's going to continue on for about twelve more hours, and I will probably be awake for most of that too. November... definitely the season to make Christmas/ winter break far more appreciated. Today, instead of being frustrated or feeling dead, I'm surprisingly wide awake. The feeling of accomplishment (finishing the essay of DOOM), of having a far better idea of what to do for my final project for my Communications Research class (which, if you are not mathematically minded or miss a lab, is painfully difficult), and probably the haze of cloudy brain-fog keeping me from panicking. One more essay, one more project, and then I'm done until exams. Granted, exams aren't that far off....but still. The momentary release from the pressure of school work is appreciated.
I don't really have anything particularly insightful, deep, or hilarious to draw out of this for you...sorry...but I'm in a good mood and I have a few minutes to kill before class, so I thought I'd try to lighten things up around this blog o'mine and give you some menial day-details. Charming, I know.
Peace out, girl scouts.
I don't really have anything particularly insightful, deep, or hilarious to draw out of this for you...sorry...but I'm in a good mood and I have a few minutes to kill before class, so I thought I'd try to lighten things up around this blog o'mine and give you some menial day-details. Charming, I know.
Peace out, girl scouts.
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