November 7th, 2001

sleepy, awww

...random thoughts on the passing scene

ugh, 1 AM and I'm still awake.

Last night was miserable. There have been very few times where I've actually cried myself to sleep, but last night was one of those nights. There have been very few nights lately where I had to fight with myself just to let the tears come, that it was alright to feel horrible and nasty, and that at that moment, I needed to keep myself in that bed and cry. Because I knew if I got out of that bed, I would have gone searching for my pocketknife, and that could have led to disasterous consequences.

I'm alright now. I've had some time to think, which helps. And I've had people who were willing to hear me out. And I had a puppydog on the bed, attempting to lick the tears off just as fast as they were coming in the first place. She's really a good dog, Britney is. She doesn't mind when I mess up her coat with tears, or just hold her and hug her.

I'm a bit disappointed in myself that I can type 1300 words no problem for a school assignment, but right now, I can't muster that in six days of trying to be creative. But, I guess I'll give it time. There's still Turkey Day weekend, not to mention the three day one we get this weekend. But first through W and Th classes. Have a quiz tomorrow in assembler, and a final Th in my other class. At least we're not gonna have another math test for four or five weeks yet.

Speaking of math tests, that was one of the good things that happened yesterday. We got math tests back, and I got a blue star on mine. That's what the teacher does for A's. And it means I'm teetering on the border between an A and a B in that class. I'm getting an A in assembler easy much so that a couple of my friends approached me and asked if I'd help them on all their programming assignments for the rest of the year. So. Now to figure out what a binary sort is. :)

Hmmm, even in my most prolific month on this LJ thing, I only logged a bit over ten thousand words...I think I'm a bit too obsessed with wordcount. But the text statistics program in my text editor is amazing.

So...sleep is good. See you in the morning. Or something.
  • Current Music
    Soundtrack - Rayford's Conversion


Alright. I see how a binary search works. But how the hell am I supposed to binary search for a number that doesn't exist in my array, but find the closest number...

Hmmm, this is a challenge.
  • Current Mood
    geeky geeky

o/~ they said there'd be snow at christmas o/~

They said there'll be snow at Christmas
They said there'll be peace on earth
But instead it just kept on raining
A veil of tears for the virgin birth

It's November. Christmas and the end of the year is just around the corner. In two short weeks, I'll be 23. Not like it makes much difference, but anniversaries make me reflect. And I guess there's no bigger anniversary than the anniversary of the day I was born. I guess I'm starting early this year.

I hate the fact I have relationships I've broken so bad it'll be an impossible effort to mend. Whether it's because of something I did, or something they did, or just a combination of both. This does wonders for my sanity. I don't know why I'm attracted, like a moth to a bugzapper, to attempting to fix some of those, and one of these days, I'm gonna learn that the only thing that comes from flying too close is that I get holes in my wings.

And one of the things I wonder is if I'm really...well, it's hard to put this in words. But sometimes I wonder if it's a good thing to feel as deeply as I've somehow been cursed with. There's something going through my head right now, about wondering if this depression problem I have is a ploy to garner sympathy, and even though this was told to me with the usual lack of empathy I've grown to expect, it's got me wondering. Is this a fucking act? Am I miserable simply because I want to be noticed, to be cared for?

Maybe I should just fucking shut up about how I feel about things. Be a nobody. I'm pretty damned close as it is. Oh trust me, your comments and thoughts are nothing compared to what I think about myself. Take every bad thought you've thought about me, and multiply it by a thousand, and you'll get pretty much the picture I can get of myself, especially when I'm depressed.

I am Kat, and I hate myself.

They sold me a dream of Christmas
They sold me a Silent Night
They told me a fairy story
'Til I believed in the Israelite

The thing I'd most like for my twenty-third year of life is more self-confidence. I'd like to quit being so hard on myself for failure. That's the one thing this screwed up illness of mine has done, is tore out any self-confidence I have for anything. Because after a few screwups where you're so utterly confident walking into a test, and you walk out nearly flunking, you start to wonder.

And this is what I've grown to believe. I'm smart? That's irrevalent to the point. Being smart didn't help me when I walked in overconfident, and it doesn't help me now. I want somehow to be sold on the idea that I have some worth, I want somebody to find some way to convince me that no confidence is just as bad as overconfidence. And to pound it into the part of my brain that relys on feeling to get the point across.

Once bitten, twice shy. That's what they call somebody like me, the person afraid to go back in the water 'cause a shark once nibbled on her toes. Sometimes I'm too careful for my own good, not springing on the chance, because the chance involves me taking a risk that I'm not necesarily sure I'm ready for yet.

I want to believe in myself again. Is that too much to ask?

I wish you a hopeful Christmas
I wish you a brave New Year
All anguish pain and sadness
Leave your heart and let your road be clear

This is what I want. Can anybody come through with it?

  • Current Music
    Emerson, Lake & Palmer - I Believe In Father Christmas