DISCLAIMER: Looking back over this message, I can see that it is
ill-constructed, vague, ramble-y, rant-y, and more than a little
unintelligible in places. I shamelessly blame this on lack of sleep, a
number of upcoming final exams, and my penchant for parenthetical
asides and ellipses (which are absolutely uncontrollable on less than
four hours of sleep ^_~). Read at your own risk.
Okay. In order of . . . well, no order really. Perhaps a rough
estimate of chronological order. Maybe. ^_~ Birthdays, Warriors, and
Agoraphobia.
Anna:
> Happy Birthday!!
> <snip>
> Anyway, don't get discouraged. We've all been there and survived!
> And a treehouse would be great!! But, Neverland? Uh, I think we can
> find a better forest to build that treehouse!
> Anyway, I'm finally getting sleepy... must take advantage...
> Hope all your birthday wishes come true!
Thanks! But . . . what's wrong with Neverland? It's got trees,
mermaids, pirates, and presumably some sort of anti-aging atmosphere
that sounds just lovely.
Or was that the fairy dust? I forget.
Neith:
> Seriously now, don't be so. Nineteen is a wonderful age, more even so
> if you're still studying and without responsibilities. In any case, I
> understand you, because 10 years ago I didn't want to get old, even
> though I wasn't afraid of future;it was time after that when I
> decided just let time slip and not to worry until I am at least 40.
Happy Birthday to you too, Neith! Although, I have to ask: What
*exactly* do you mean be "without responsibilities"? I happen to take
my studying v. seriously, you know. ^_~ It might *seem* like all frats
and keg parties, but mostly it's just *paying* to work your ass off,
instead of *getting* paid to do it.
(NOTE: Of course, I have *never* had a drop of alcohol in my life, as
I am under 21 and it would be WRONG. ^_~)
Hmm . . . I'm not really afraid of the future either. Well, maybe a
bit. I *don't* want to enter the work force, really. Most jobs seem .
. . well, horribly boring. I really can't imagine not studying and
learning everyday. *thinks* Maybe I can be a research scientist.
Is there any way you can just stay in a school forever? Really, it's
all I'm good at.
Shaun:
> I'm not sure that this will cheer you up. Because I'm not 100% sure
> why you're
> depressed about being 19.
> But I remember being 19 (-8 And I remember being really upset about
> the fact that
> I felt like I was having to grow up now. Having to turn into an adult.
> And I didn't
> feel like I was ready.
Yeah, that's part of it. Only, it's less of a "I'm not ready!" feeling
and more of a "I won't, and they can't make me! . . . I mean, they
can't, can they?" feeling. I remember when I was about seven or eight
or so I made a list of very un-adultish things that I did/thought/was
and promised myself that I'd never stop doing/thinking/being any of
them.
Well, you can imagine how successful I've been at *that*, which sort of
saddens me. I mean, most of them weren't very noble traits (among them
were "I will never feel bad for being an embarrassment to my mother"
and "I will always hit anyone who needs hitting, especially my little
brother," only there were words misspelled. ^_^), but I sort of *miss*
being weird and immature and crazy and proud of it.
Well, I guess I am still sort of weird, immature, and crazy . . . and,
okay, I'm still pretty proud of it, too. But . . . it's just
different, you know?
And what *is* "maturity," anyway? I ask you. Because it seems to me
that the only people so terribly concerned with it are either a)
pre-teenagers or b) really, really boring and judgmental.
AND . . . *suddenly notices that a very large soapbox has materialized
under her feet.* Erm . . . *steps off it sheepishly*.
Shaun:
> If it's any comfort - it'll probably be at least ten years before
> adults think you're an
> adult. I'm nearly 29 - and frankly, I feel younger now, than I did
> when I was 19. I've
> come to realise that I have a lot more time left being young (or
> relatively young)
> than I thought (-8
I seem to be stuck between being annoyed when adults expect me to grow
up in a hurry and exasperated when, for instance, my college professors
conduct classes like they're kindergarten teachers. One of them
actually asked my multivariable class today what you get when you
divide a negative number by its positive counterpart. *sigh* Granted,
the case could be made that he was just trying to see if we were awake
(which would be a v. valid concern on his part).
My real problem is that it's just going so *fast*. It seems like just
yesterday I was all upset because I was turning eighteen, and just
before that I was in a state of shock and dismay because I'd hit
twelve. And there's just no way to *stop* it. My life is hurtling by
me at an alarming rate, and there's nothing at all I can do about it.
Moreover, birthdays *force* me to think about that fact, which is why I
hate them with a mad passion.
And now I'm going to stop talking about this before anyone gets an even
*lower* opinion of me and my ability to form coherent sentences. ^_^
So . . . Thanks to Amy Z, Sheryll, and anyone else I might have missed
for the birthday wishes!
On to the Flame Warriors:
I am sad to confess that I am definitely the Tireless Rebutter, as
anyone who has ever engaged in an argument with me can attest to
(Shaun, pippin, everyone else...sorry 'bout that). However, I protest
the assertion that I am "universally loathed." After all, not *that*
many people know me. ^_~
Iggy:
> Ps: Agoraphobic... Isn't that a fear of
> really soft and fluffy
> sweaters??>
Saitaina:
> Er, no. It's a fear of people and crowds.
> Added to a fear of judgment and I can't even
> make a call to a store or doctor's office
> without rehearsing it five million times in
> my head (and forget talking to sales
> clerks).
I remember one of my mom's best friends had agoraphobia (back when I
was teeny weeny and my mum still had her little circle of girlfriends).
I never understood it at all back then, probably because my mother
explained it as "Ellen is afraid to leave the house," and left it at
that. (Understandably, as by the time I had processed this strange bit
of information and was ready to make further inquiries on the subject,
Ellen was sitting in the passenger seat of our car on the way to her
first psychiatric appointment in years. Oh, kids are the most tactless
little creatures ever.) Anyway, I think in this case I worked out for
myself that Ellen must be scared of germs or something in the air or
maybe wild animals, because *why* would anyone be afraid to go outside
their house?
Now, it's definitely not such a mystery to me. I certainly don't have
it, but every now and then I definitely get panic attacks about going
to see people (interestingly, I don't have any problem at all with
strangers/strange places. It's the casual acquaintances that really
get me). But, OH . . . Phones. The Scourge of the Earth. The Bane of
My Existence. Forget rehearsing lines. I just can't *do* it, most of
the time. The only people I feel comfortable on the phone with are my
mom and my boyfriend, full stop. Can't even talk to my eight year old
sister (who also had a birthday today) without getting nervous ("Oh,
dear God, what do I *say*?!"). You know that Thing people have, where
they feel compelled to answer a ringing phone? Never experienced it in
my life.
Although, there *are* times when I can call people and be cool as a
cucumber. I think these times are the products of when my rare
Productive Mood and my even rarer Quick-and-Efficient Mood coincide.
The Productive Mood gives me this heady sense of "Let's get things
DONE!" (getting things DONE often requires telephones), and the
Quick-and-Efficient Mood makes me pick up the receiver and dial the
number before I can think about it too much and chicken out.
So, yeah. Phones. Bad.
Laura (who has just realized that her low opinion of paying work
probably stems from the fact that they only jobs she has ever had were
filing for her parents' contracting business and working on a boxing
line at a blueberry factory. *shudder*)