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And the saga continues...
My life is so weird right now. I don't think it's fully sunk in that I'm actually back at school and all that it entail. Example? It is 1 in the morning and I haven't done my math homework. Granted, it's not due till Monday, but if I want to be prepared for tomorrow's class, I should have done it. I'll have to do it in the morning seeing as I don't have class until 12:30. *dances* I also have NOT studied Japanese, even though I was totally lost during class today (twice too since I had it twice). I'll have to do it tomorrow. And now that's just the procrastinator in me talking. I always say I'll so stuff "tomorrow". The problem with that is that tomorrow never comes....
I also have a million and one projects going on at the same time. I have a scarf to knit, at least 20 portraits to draw for the yearbook project over at FA, a fic to write for the UR.net ficathon,... oh and I have to do actually schoolwork somewhere in there... Procrastinators should never be overacheivers (or wannabe overacheivers as be the case). It isn't pretty. Stress up the wazoo. I've been there. The staying up until 2 or 3 am doing work. The string of "tomorrows" that only bring further torment. The complusion to keep taking on more, even when you know that you've already taken on too much. I've done all that. It wreaks havoc on me mentally and physically and everything. And yet I never learn and keep doing it. I can't help taking on more work volutarily. (*pokes 19 credit workload of this semester*) It just happens. I also am very stubborn. Once taken on, I refuse to quit. It probably stems from some deep-seated complusion and desire to please my parents. (sheesh this is turning weird) I never get the firm conviction that they're proud of me. I mean, I know they are, but sometimes I doubt it. It comes during those times when I'm being treated to glares and deep sighs from my mother because I haven't vacuumed or cleaned and just sat around at home instead. It comes when I say something rash or ill-thought at the dinner table and I see the disappointment and criticism in my dad's eyes. It comes when I do my best, but it still never seems to be enough. Thus, my expectations are amazingly high and it's all because I make them so. I see the disappointment, I hear the sighs and slamming of cabinets. Then I take them, twist them, and set the bar even higher. Just one more thing. Maybe that'll make them happy. Maybe it'll let me satisfy them for once so I can be left in peace...
The problem with all this is that now I'm here.... at school. Yet, I still see hear the sighs, the slamming, the quiet after I've snapped and finally yelled back and have retreated to my room to stare angrily at the ceiling. And so, I take on more. I know my parents don't care or even know about my drawing projects. They couldn't care less about the scarf. The 19 credits mean nothing to them beyond the fact that I am expected to excel no matter what the workload. They see the work, the grades.... well, that's what it feels like sometimes. Even more so when I read my manga. My dad calls it "trash that uneducated people read because they don't know any better". And that stings. It stings deep. I stopped showing them my artwork. I used to all the time. I drew an amazing (for me) picture of a girl swinging on a swing for my mother for mother's day last year. She was going on a business trip and before she left, we all gave her our cards. I worked for hours on it and while it was only a line drawing, I was proud of it. I found it when I got back from school. It was on the bathroom counter, forgotten. I haven't seen it since I left it in my parent's room after I found it. I still remember the tears that prickled in my eyes when I saw it there. After that I stopped. I draw, but it stays in my sketchbook, except for a few.
I don't even know anymore. It overwhelms me sometimes. But I pull through. I always have.
*re-reads what she's written* This post makes me sound really depressed and stressed and psychotic. I'm sorry. It's something I've wanted to get out of my system for a long time. I suspect that there's a lot of suppressed resentment in me that shouldn't be there. I know my parents try and I know they love me anyway, but it hurts sometimes when they stop believing, even for an instant. I think I'm going to bed. I need to think about this a bit. I'd never really analyzed it. Nite all!
~Carolina
PS-slaps for being whiney and self-pitying are welcome. maybe it'll make me snap out of it.
PPS- Idea!!! I have an HP story-type thingy that I wrote after OotP. I think I'll post it sometime tomorrow... (if I can find it... and type it up....)
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