Most of the time, recently, when I say something about myself that sounds disparaging, it actually isn't. It's a statement of my own truth. When I say I'm fat or lazy or terrible at something, the remark is not meant to put myself down, not anymore. It's just a truth. It's something that I've come to accept as a part of me, or something that I want to change, or just..something. They're all just adjectives. Descriptions.
It actually might be more damaging for someone to say 'Oh, no you aren't' to whatever I believe, because it is a contradiction I really don't need, if I'm going to change my attitude and outlook.
And believe it or not, I actually do feel myself changing. More and more, when I see myself in the mirror, I'm not pissed off by what I see. I recently discovered that I have a good smile. This thing, this being okay with who I am and what I look like, or at least most of the time - this is new. And I guess I like it. I like not hating myself all the time.
This is not a Tavros thing, not an if-I-say-I'm-confident-I'll-be-confident thing. I'm actually feeling a lot better about myself.
This is a good development.
Olivia
PS. And yet, on the other hand, when I read Cyrano I can still completely identify with his attitude. He thinks he repulses women with his appearance, and better to stay away; there are examples from the beginning that seem to prove him wrong, but his stubbornness in belief in his truths sabotages him until his death. Once I fix myself in the broader way, maybe move on to more specific categories.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Wheeeeeeee?
I have realized that my attitude toward myself has been changing lately. I find myself more and more likely to be okay with what I see in the mirror, and I've been mentally beating myself out of most negativities. I'm thinking the struggle I put up against my friend a few weeks ago, when she told me I should see a therapist and I replied that I could fix myself or at least live with my stupid problems, actually did something. I'm thinking I must have conned myself into being nicer to myself, and right now I'm pretty okay with that.
That said, social insecurities are peaking. More and more in the past week I've found myself fretting over what other people think of me - whether or not they actually like me, whether or not I annoy them. These worries are stupid and needy but for some reason I can't shake them, and I find myself saying things that I regret simply because the reactions throw me off.
And it's also been kind of a roller coaster (hnngh cliches why). The last ten days have made up one big moodswing filled with a lot of little moodswings, but I'm finding my ups higher than usual, and my downs, if not also higher, then at least around the same and maybe not quite as severe most of the time.
I'm taking on a few rather ambitious side projects, which will be fun. And it'll mean that in my down time - what time I have, at any rate - I will have something to do, rather than just lying around worrying about homework.
On average, things are pretty okay. Pretty good.
Olivia
That said, social insecurities are peaking. More and more in the past week I've found myself fretting over what other people think of me - whether or not they actually like me, whether or not I annoy them. These worries are stupid and needy but for some reason I can't shake them, and I find myself saying things that I regret simply because the reactions throw me off.
And it's also been kind of a roller coaster (hnngh cliches why). The last ten days have made up one big moodswing filled with a lot of little moodswings, but I'm finding my ups higher than usual, and my downs, if not also higher, then at least around the same and maybe not quite as severe most of the time.
I'm taking on a few rather ambitious side projects, which will be fun. And it'll mean that in my down time - what time I have, at any rate - I will have something to do, rather than just lying around worrying about homework.
On average, things are pretty okay. Pretty good.
Olivia
Monday, February 21, 2011
Men in love stories. (This title gets me thinking; should I write about women in love stories? I certainly have opinions on them.)
I'm rereading Cyrano de Bergerac, the play. The first time I read it was in freshman year of high school; I had finished the assigned reading and was flipping through the textbook trying to find something interesting to occupy my time - probably was procrastinating on science homework or something. I read Cyrano, and loved it. I loved the clever, witty character of Cyrano, always ready for a fight or a declamation (sometimes both at once), and disoriented only by infatuation. So when I encountered him again today while browsing the bookshelves that house the classics at Barnes and Noble, (wow that was quite a half-sentence) I decided to revisit.
Halfway through, and I still love it.
(SPOILERS: Cyrano dies in the end.)
And I feel like in all my favorite love stories that are considered classics, people die. I'm not talking about Romeo and Juliet; that play has always annoyed me, because it has never, never seemed plausible for me for a couple of people to fall in love and die for each other within a span of a few days. I'm sorry. Just no.
I'm talking about stories like Hunchback of Notre Dame (the novel, of course), and Phantom of the Opera (any version will do; the first I was exposed to was the musical, for which I have a huge soft spot), and A Tale of Two Cities, and Cyrano. And I guess just now I realized why I like these so much.
It's the unrequited lover; it's obvious. (Romeo doesn't count, because he got over Rosaline in a heartbeat, the fickle manwhore.) And you know, it's always a guy. (Unless you're thinking about Esmeralda's love for Phoebus, and..well, Phoebus is a bitch.) I guess there's something decidedly less romantic about a woman pining over a man. Has this ever happened successfully in classic literature? Generally when a woman is the main character, the work is about how (head)strong and independent she is, or how she gets the guy by being (head)strong and at least mostly independent. Women assuming the roles of men, whether in life or in literature, is a modern and still not entirely thought-out concept; for instance, I rather doubt that 'progressive' feminist novels could possibly have a woman pining over a man in any way. (Please, correct me if I'm wrong, if you can; I don't have a tendency to read feminist literature.)
And also, another thing that I guess I just realized. Quasimodo is ugly. The Phantom is ugly, or at least disfigured. Cyrano thinks he's too ugly for love. Sydney Carton..well, he's just an emo fuck who thinks he's too much of a pile of shit to be loved by Lucy.
Oh, boys. Love yourselves. I certainly love you.
<3
Olivia
PS. That was a bit of an anticlimactic ending to this post; I was probably thinking about writing more, but everything's gone out my ears. I'm so tired. I've had a hell of a weekend.
Halfway through, and I still love it.
(SPOILERS: Cyrano dies in the end.)
And I feel like in all my favorite love stories that are considered classics, people die. I'm not talking about Romeo and Juliet; that play has always annoyed me, because it has never, never seemed plausible for me for a couple of people to fall in love and die for each other within a span of a few days. I'm sorry. Just no.
I'm talking about stories like Hunchback of Notre Dame (the novel, of course), and Phantom of the Opera (any version will do; the first I was exposed to was the musical, for which I have a huge soft spot), and A Tale of Two Cities, and Cyrano. And I guess just now I realized why I like these so much.
It's the unrequited lover; it's obvious. (Romeo doesn't count, because he got over Rosaline in a heartbeat, the fickle manwhore.) And you know, it's always a guy. (Unless you're thinking about Esmeralda's love for Phoebus, and..well, Phoebus is a bitch.) I guess there's something decidedly less romantic about a woman pining over a man. Has this ever happened successfully in classic literature? Generally when a woman is the main character, the work is about how (head)strong and independent she is, or how she gets the guy by being (head)strong and at least mostly independent. Women assuming the roles of men, whether in life or in literature, is a modern and still not entirely thought-out concept; for instance, I rather doubt that 'progressive' feminist novels could possibly have a woman pining over a man in any way. (Please, correct me if I'm wrong, if you can; I don't have a tendency to read feminist literature.)
And also, another thing that I guess I just realized. Quasimodo is ugly. The Phantom is ugly, or at least disfigured. Cyrano thinks he's too ugly for love. Sydney Carton..well, he's just an emo fuck who thinks he's too much of a pile of shit to be loved by Lucy.
Oh, boys. Love yourselves. I certainly love you.
<3
Olivia
PS. That was a bit of an anticlimactic ending to this post; I was probably thinking about writing more, but everything's gone out my ears. I'm so tired. I've had a hell of a weekend.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Friends, roommates, coughs.
Yesterday (I guess technically two days ago) was Valentine's Day, and it was the first in years that didn't find me feeling sorry for myself. I also realized that more and more I'm seeing myself in the mirror and being okay, or mostly okay, with the way I look, and that's good. That's progress.
On the other end of the spectrum, I haven't really talked to Jonah for probably more than a month now. You know, it's kind of weird, and it kind of makes me feel shitty. I mean he's online, but he never responds. And there's the very valid possibility that he's just too lazy to answer, because he's that kind of person, and I don't know whether that would be a relief or a disappointment. But I feel like I'm losing friends all the time for one reason or another, and I feel like it's always my fault. (And dude, I know you can read this, but it is more than probable that you're not. And if you are.. well, then why are you reading my blog but not talking to me?) Sometimes this hits me on the side of the head, and makes me feel sick.
Hnngh, time has rendered the previous paragraph void. Twenty minutes after writing it, he calls.
And, weirdly, Jen-the-roommate has come back into my life. She sits behind me in my Shakespeare class, and so far we've been friendly with each other. This is strange, but I suppose it's good. I suspect it's partially because I'm the most likely conversation partner for her in that class, and she for me, so there is some silent pact that takes us back to the stage our relationship had last fall.
Speaking of roommates, an interesting development has occurred in my life. Remember Ariel? I know you don't, because I've never talked about her. Izzy and I met her at Comiccon in whenever-that-was, was it October or November? (It was on Saturday, at the MSPA meetup; she was cosplaying as Gamzee. Definitely one of the best trolls there, the other being Vriska. And of course, if you read this blog, chances are you don't read Homestuck - which is why I keep trying to plug it. So this means nothing to you.) Anyways, we - a group of us who had all met at Comiccon - started hanging out a couple of weeks ago after keeping in touch over Facebook, and Ariel and I realized that we each needed a roommate for next year. And we excitedly said HEY WE SHOULD LIVE TOGETHER, and then confirmed it in a long string of loud and excitable comments on an unrelated Facebook post, and started working out details over Facebook message and in person. So it looks like I'll be getting a place next semester or at the beginning of summer with this Really Cool Girl, and I have Homestuck to thank JUST SAYING HOMESTUCK IS GOOD FOR YOU.
I've been hella sick the past couple of weeks. Half the department is sick; we think it's Reinfeld's fault, because last week he came in for half a class, taught us a bit, died, and left. (He did not really die.) This week I've missed all my classes but one, and I feel even shittier for it. I should probably go find a doctor and get an inhaler or something - I have this fucking cough again, though most of the rest of the symptoms are gone. I don't like seeing doctors.
That's it for now, I think.
Olivia
Hnngh, time has rendered the previous paragraph void. Twenty minutes after writing it, he calls.
And, weirdly, Jen-the-roommate has come back into my life. She sits behind me in my Shakespeare class, and so far we've been friendly with each other. This is strange, but I suppose it's good. I suspect it's partially because I'm the most likely conversation partner for her in that class, and she for me, so there is some silent pact that takes us back to the stage our relationship had last fall.
Speaking of roommates, an interesting development has occurred in my life. Remember Ariel? I know you don't, because I've never talked about her. Izzy and I met her at Comiccon in whenever-that-was, was it October or November? (It was on Saturday, at the MSPA meetup; she was cosplaying as Gamzee. Definitely one of the best trolls there, the other being Vriska. And of course, if you read this blog, chances are you don't read Homestuck - which is why I keep trying to plug it. So this means nothing to you.) Anyways, we - a group of us who had all met at Comiccon - started hanging out a couple of weeks ago after keeping in touch over Facebook, and Ariel and I realized that we each needed a roommate for next year. And we excitedly said HEY WE SHOULD LIVE TOGETHER, and then confirmed it in a long string of loud and excitable comments on an unrelated Facebook post, and started working out details over Facebook message and in person. So it looks like I'll be getting a place next semester or at the beginning of summer with this Really Cool Girl, and I have Homestuck to thank JUST SAYING HOMESTUCK IS GOOD FOR YOU.
I've been hella sick the past couple of weeks. Half the department is sick; we think it's Reinfeld's fault, because last week he came in for half a class, taught us a bit, died, and left. (He did not really die.) This week I've missed all my classes but one, and I feel even shittier for it. I should probably go find a doctor and get an inhaler or something - I have this fucking cough again, though most of the rest of the symptoms are gone. I don't like seeing doctors.
That's it for now, I think.
Olivia
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