The “stress culture.”  It’s become a massive part of today’s society, hasn’t it?  At least, on my college’s campus?  (The answer to that is yes.)

Everyone is competing.  Competing for jobs.  Competing for the best grades.  Competing to get into med school or grad school or whatever school they may want to attend next.  It’s a normal thing to hear people talking about how little sleep they got or how much they have going on.  People compare how many hours they spend on a given class.  They stay up all night studying or doing work.  They stress and stress and stress.  All that really comes from that is more stress.

It’s a stressful place.

It’s a toxic environment.

There are many who can attest to that.

No one is immune to it.  I certainly am not.  Academic stress exists in my life, though not nearly as much as in other people’s lives.  I think that grades are not truly accurate representations of what what you know and whether or not you can apply that outside of the classroom setting.  I do my best to not worry about grades so much as learning.  Even so, it’s hard to not stress sometimes.

Stress seems to come from fear of the uncertainty of the future.  That and the desire to be on top, to be better than everyone else.  But is it worth it?  In the end, what do you have to show for all of your work?  Only grades and prematurely grey hair.  The more important question lies in the use of what you’ve learned.

Is what you actually know and remember worth the stress?  Is it worth the toxic environment?  If it is, then you’re probably pretty well off.  If it’s not, then I invite you to join me in destressing activities such as baking and playing games and making fun of 90s television in the form of the Power Rangers.

Because in my eyes, the toxic environment isn’t worth the toll that it takes on me mentally.  I’d rather not repeat last semester, and if that means not doing as well as I was before, I accept that.  Being in a better place is worth so much more than a letter in class.

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When I was a young foolish innocent little girl, I used to think I was special.  I had an imagination that would come alive.  I always got straight As in school.  I understood things and people so well.  I felt special.

It’s been a long time, though, and a lot has changed.  This isn’t some kind of I-want-pity-and-compliments post.  This is the self-loathing that I keep bottled up.  Sometimes it gets to the point where I NEED to let it out.

I know that I’m not a special person.  I don’t get straight As in college.  I blend in with the crowd.  My imagination still makes things come alive, but it’s rare for those things to be shared with others.  I feel incredibly mundane.  There’s nothing that sets me apart from others.  I feel like a robot sometimes.  Sure, I try to avoid conforming to society’s expectations, but even that isn’t enough sometimes.  Without something that makes me special, I am just another person.  And…I suppose I really don’t like that.  I want to be more than just another person.

When I think about the future, it’s hard to see myself moving on after college.  I want to go to graduate school and do research; I want to do something useful that will help others.  When I think about the future, though, I can’t see myself achieving things because there’s nothing special about me.

It’s a sad thought.  I haven’t even checked my midsemester grades because I don’t want to do something stupid out of despair.  I probably won’t check them, to be honest.  This semester is worse than last (academically).  I wonder what the future holds for me.

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Day 3

Day 3 of my commitment to keep blogging for at least 100 days.  I don’t know what else to say.

It was a rough 3-day weekend.  A lot happened.  I’ve been physically and emotionally exhausted for most of it, but things are slowly starting to get better.  I found out just how difficult relationships can be…but also that when you want it to work out, you’ll find a way to do it.  It’s a lot of work, but it’ll be worth it.  He makes me happy.

I found this slightly amusing WikiHow article today.  It gave me a bit to ponder.  I actually kind of like it…

NaNoWriMo is starting soon.  You know what that means?  I need to start making my writing playlists.  I’ve been listening to the radio a lot, so that will hopefully help.

These are all random thoughts and updates in my life.  Sometimes I wonder what I’m really doing.  I’m going to school and learning.  I’m working.  I’m living with bipolar disorder.  I’m a being with feelings who exists.  And for right now, that’s enough.

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Bittersweet Symphony

Just the name of this song…well, it’s enough for me.  I particularly enjoy the first verse.  “It’s a bittersweet symphony this life.”

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Curses and Luck

Last night I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed (I don’t know why since doing so makes me miserable), and I had a thought that doesn’t particularly appeal to me.

There are people who, at least from the look of things, are having an amazing time at college. They’re truly living the college life. Parties and friends…And Greek life…

Then I look at where I am and I ask myself if I’m living the life and having an amazing time. The answer is no. I’m not having an amazing time. I’m not even sure I’m having a good time.

And to me, that’s the most depressing thing in the world right now.

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100 Days

There’s a thing that people do called 100 Happy Days.  It’s where they find something that makes them happy everyday for 100 days.  I’ve contemplated doing it but then realized that the things I consider “happy” aren’t actually all that happy.  They’re just less depressing than other things.

Then I considered 100 Sad Days.  I figured if I can’t find happy things to write about for 100 days, then I must be able to find sad things.  That’s just depressing, though.

So I’ve come up with just 100 days.  I don’t know what those 100 days should be about, though.  Everyday has something new in store.  Sometimes I have good days, sometimes I have bad days.  It all depends.

What does this all mean in simple terms?  I’m just going to keep my blog going for 100 more days.  And probably more after that.  This whole post has just been me rambling about what sounds like nonsense because I have nothing else to say and nothing to do tonight except sit around and feel sorry for myself.  And I loathe my self-pitying.  It’s pathetic when I know that worse conditions exist in the world.

Day 1: I had a date tonight.  It didn’t end the way I wanted it to.  I now have the rest of the night to do nothing.  Maybe I’ll bake cookies.

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Finger Lasers

I’ve been watching Power Rangers SPD as I work on my projects.  Project 1, a children’s book written and illustrated by me, is done.  It’s time for project 2, which you’ll hear more about come December.

Anyway.  The SPD Mega Zord has a weapon called finger lasers.  It made me think of words.  Finger lasers.  Laser fingers.  Which would you rather have, laser fingers or finger lasers?  There is a difference, after all.

I’d rather have finger lasers.

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