My very own paradise

I don’t know what to write about…things don’t seem to bother me as much as I used to, and I haven’t been able to write normally about things that blogs usually contain. But now I feel like I can’t exactly begin to describe what I’m feeling. I remember before I started my medication I could talk about a lot of things. Maybe I’m distracted or something. Heh. I wonder what happened.

Whine Session

I just got back from the last of my three new classes that kick off my new academic year. I feel like I’ve been given a prison sentence. Maybe everyone back home is right. Perhaps I should just give up and let the white man win. Okay, enough with that. Actually, I’ve been pretty much okay. Just the usual first-day bullshit. I resolved not to take Poli Sci, but somehow after much chagrin I’ve found myself in a class of about 600 people, listening to some man rant and rave on how unfair the election was. I’ve resolved also to put out of mind the memories of certain individuals associated with such subjects (ahem) because they would only prove just a source of distraction. So I’m not really going to talk about them anymore. The memories of some and the current thoughts of these individuals just hurt every time I think about them. It seems like they really never cared about me in the first place. But anyway, I might as well just begin to let go of something that really wasn’t there in the first place. Which, I think, is something that was necessary in the first place. I can’t begin to tell how much hell I felt for calling Eric and waiting for him to call back, which he never did, partly since he was so busy. Maybe I’m just kidding myself about him. It’s perhaps something that I’m now paying for, since it seems now that he’s so fucking disgusted with me that he won’t even talk to me anymore. And I bought him so much over Christmas break that Mom got mad at me because she said I was going to get walked on. I should have listened to her.

Argh. Well, I guess that’s enough of that. The bus ride up here was long. It also was an opportunity to think about the chances to really understand the people that we know and love. Sitting and talking to complete strangers, one sees the real opporuntity to surround ourselves with the compassion and love and not be so fucking cold all the time. I got back to Lubbock around five, and happened upon my old Portuguese teacher, who as it turns out is studying for her master’s degree in that language. She has Dr. Ladeira for a teacher, she tells me. Anyway I get back. TJ is asleep. At first it felt good to be home and everthing; no worries and such. After a little j/o time I go to bed. My mom calls me that morning and I tell her that I love her. I so want to give up. I remember Isaac’s mandate to me to stick with the plan.
So I’m okay, for now. I’m eating well again and am determined to stay that way by staying away from Sam’s Place as much as possible and doing my own thing by sticking to a light diet and exercising as I should. I need to make this shit last for the whole of the semester or I could find myself trash-picking like the last time.

Anyway, now that my Abilify is setting in, I should be okay.

After Home

I so appreciate everything. I had some good things that came out of my little venture home, and overall I’m glad I went home. I finally relaxed a little. It was more than anything something I was in need of. And after a long bus trip, I sure am glad that things were nice and peaceable for Christmas.

I’ve grown so much. The family went to shit after my departure.

I appreciate Biff so much now. I saw a program about Leroy Anderson, and I now believe that there is no such thing as being a light composer.

I’ll update later on…