I'm sitting here in lab missing my college days. And I was so miserable in college. One day I might sit at work and miss my graduate school days, which is horrible because I've never been so miserable before, yet each new stage in life seems to be somehow even worse than the last. Somehow I started up high (but not actually), and I've been going down. Except my high wasn't very high even.
-half bag of licorice (bag has 700 cal)
-half bag vegetables/ half bag udon (~100+150)
-donut (~400 cal)
total: 6000 cal
-soup box of trader joes organic foursome vegetables and crappy burned rice (3000 kcal?)
-half sack of liquorice (bag has 700 kcal)
-trader joes chicken lo mien (bag has 630 kcal)
total ~80000 kcal
In other news, I have ants in my loft/bed now. Their trail to my bag of unopened candy traverses under my mattress. C'est la vie.
I should be happy. I have all my physical body parts in good working order, a place to sleep at night, living nuclear family members, a small rainy day fund, okay clothes, and a fridge stuffed with rotten food that I don't like.
But I don't have my mental health, success, or best friends. Everyone around me has these things. So it's not weird that I'm randomly distraught a lot of the time. Also, I always surround myself with people better than I am in hopes of bettering myself, but all this really accomplishes is a good ego beating every time I have to see these people. Okay, I can't be as cool as those rich bastards. I liked to believe that my family wasn't very poor, but apparently it is. Here, I see grad students living in luxury apartments, which I didn't even realize existed, to the tune of 2k-5k/mo. Alrighty then. Those rich bastards better do well. They have no reason not to.
Also my family has a lot of drama. I moved away so now they have to work to keep me updated with it. There's a reason I never call, and I'm definitely not going to call separately for each parent just because they split up. I can't tell them anything anyway without bad things happening. My crappy childhood wasn't even that crappy, yet it caused so much damage that I am writing stupid angsty things on a 8 year old livejournal all the time.
-half bag mangoes (300 cal?)
-2 slices tuscan pane (220 cal)
-2 slices trader joes black forest ham (300?)
-2 slices trader joes muenster cheese (300?)
total ~1200 cal
I used to like Trader Joe's as a place to get novelty foods, but living off of it sucks. If I'd known there was no grocery store in this city, I totally would've gone to another city to rot away for the next few years, though if that'd happened it might not involve rotting. But for now, I rot away.
Also I am sure I will hate mangoes, dumplings, and stir fried frozen vegetables so much by the time the year is over. Which is unfortunate, because I already lost interest in most foods, and I hate pears, green beans, fish, bean sprouts, and Vitamin Water because of what my dad did. I don't really care for snack foods anymore, and I can't stomach candy now apparently. So much for buying two packs of Reeses cups, the best candy in the world. Nope.
-8 trader joes veg dumplings (3400 cal)
-bag of trader joes pad see ew (5x1300=6500 cal)
-half bag mangoes (2250 cal)
-4 nestles snack size crunch bars (6000 cal?)
-3 reeses snack size cups (5000 cal?)
-3 collard leaves (100 cal?)
total: ~40000 cal
-8 half burnt trader joes veggie dumplings, so maybe really 4 (5 dumplings 200 cal)
-the rest of the bag of those dumplings (bag has 3x270 cal)
-half a bag of twizzlers (bag has 1320 cal)
-2 small free cookies (crappy weekly seminar cookies) (??? cal)
-a mini almond snickers (100 cal?)
-1 goetze (lol??) caramel cream (? cal)
-half bag of trader joes chicken dumplings (bag has 600 cal)
-3 reeses cups (3x130 probably)
-half bag trader joes frozen mangoes (bag has 450 cal)
total calories ~4000
what i ate yesterday
-8 trader joes chicken dumplings (half bag, bag has 600 cal)
-1lb frozen peas and corn (bag has 250 cal?)
-half a slice of bread (trader joes tuscan pane) (each slice 110 cal)
-half a bag of twizzlers (watermelon 3x3) (bag has 1320 cal)
total calories ~2000
hopefully heart attack soon
A postdoc who beat me out on a manuscript once said, "You should never settle for the research projects you work on." He must've been a tenured professor in disguise, or the freshest of meats offered to the machine of higher education.
I'm not really sure why I keep pursuing things that constantly slap me in the face with reminders that I am powerless and alone. I hate being powerless and alone. I was hoping for (and probably believed in) a higher calling, but certainly it was not meant to be if I already have to make major concessions so early into my career. I am not working on a project that I want to, in an institution I dislike, in a city that might as well be Baltimore for all practical purposes except for those involving crabs. But on paper, omitting as much detail as possible, trimming away all of those protracted mishaps, the heartache, tedious thoughts, and humiliation, it looks like I have it made. Nobody knows that it's not what I want, and I might not get the "reward." Such is the beauty of life - you barely need to hide the darkness and nobody will see it.
Maybe this is what I get for settling during my entire career, from day one. I, as a beggar, thought I couldn't be a chooser, and indeed, I was only offered one project a year and took them because well, there was nothing else. Irrelevant work is still better than nothing. I took each of them hoping the next year I would have my pick. It never happened. Maybe I'm just not the type of person that others think is suitable for what I want to do.
Ah, I just remembered why I chose to join this grueling exercise. In second grade, outcast and miserable, I realized that life sucked because I was none of: pretty, popular, athletic, or smart. My parents had told me all my life that being popular or athletic are wastes of time, and as I can't change my looks, I decided that I had to be "smart." That is why I am where I am today. I have been trying to be popular, too, but it hasn't been working.
Anyway, I am alone and miserable in this crappy city, have dropped at least 20 hours over trying to get a home internet connection this week, been approached by many roaches, failed everything, and have no friends so I'm just being emo. Things are not looking up. They haven't for the past 5 years, and I'm out of energy for trying to fix it.
I wish I could transfer out. Sometimes I wish I were just hot and well-liked so I could tastefully whore my way to a cushy life. Sometimes it seems fun just to pretend, but I can't even enjoy that thrill because there are no hot or powerful men lying around here to play with. How bad would it feel to spend energy flirting with a filthy, unattractive, and unkempt man who lisps his "what are you doing?" I've tried to date ugly people; it hurts the ego so much more to be rejected by Frankensteins than by Adonis'.
This environment isn't even mentally stimulating; it's just a perpetual string of busywork. There's nowhere to get real food, and there are no amusements. I can't even get home internet. Nobody wants to be my friend. Etc. All I have to live for for the next few years is irrelevant busywork. I will regret this period of my life, but I'm not really sure what the way out could be. Can I reapply (I didn't get in anywhere I wanted to the first time so yeah right)? Can I get a job (surely it will be a dead end job)? Can I start a startup (that was never a possibility)? Can I marry some well-off guy (biggest no right there as an unconfident, ugly person)? What else is there in life. The rest are bad options (vagabond, nature preserver, criminal).
There isn't much to life then. I've felt this way most of my life and have been trying to find something to live for. Have I been trying very hard? Probably not. Every day I walk across a bridge or near heavy traffic I wish I could just fling myself in, but I never do and never will. I should have done that when I first had these thoughts, but I'm a sunk cost now and must do something with the resources invested into me. Though, I am doing exceptionally well considering the resources spent on me; I cost no more than 1/4 of what it did to raise other people in my position. The lack of investment probably shows through these mental health problems.
I think I finally got around to posting this because of inspiration by Amanda Rosenberg, lover of powerful men. From the reminders that Google would never want to hire me and that she's only pretty because she thinks she is. I could've been all those things. But I'm just a little poo and will probably never get to grow up into a big, strong, and powerful poo.
I did not have exciting college adventures. Saddled with my new and water-damaged diploma, I set out on a new life. A life more stressful and less bright than before. A life of settling, resignation. From here on out, it will be but a brief, unfortunately long sigh into the sickly tainted air of suburbia. Saddled with my birthright, I anticipate an empty, unsatisfying journey ahead.
I am not smart enough to solve the world energy crisis, not pretty enough to find a sexy life of luxury, not charismatic enough to get what I want. I am, average.
I think I want to do a lot of wildlife conservation type work with my life. However, I also want to support my parents in their old age, which means I need a stable job. Also, I'm not charismatic or rich, so breaking into large scale conservation efforts would not be reasonable.
ONE LIFE. WHAT TO DO.
I should study for finals.
There is this eight year old rose bush. Healthy, well-groomed, tenderly taken care of before the moment it began as a seed. Glossy, immaculate, not a single yellowing leaf on its even frame. Someone invested 400 hours of patient trimming, watering, transplanting, feeding into this being, thousands of gallons of water, hundreds of dollars in lighting and heating. Someone fended off bugs from the greenhouse, draped it with a mesh each night, nipped the right buds. All to produce this gorgeous, perfect rosebush. Eight years. A lot can happen in eight years.
Right now it is beaming with flowers in various happy states of life: the fullest peak bloom; the blushing, almost full bloom; the shy, not quite there; and the unopened bud. Perhaps this bush will never reach such a state of perfect beauty again, at least not without another year of dedicated care. But in the present, it is perfect. It's sitting there; how about we take some pictures? It is rare to see such a beauty in any form, alive or lifeless. It is simply so perfect, so captivating, so delicate.
Someone trips and falls into the bush. The bush is destroyed. Its branches lay splayed and torn from the trunk; the trunk has snapped in half. Its leaves are crushed and torn by its own thorns, and the blooms are bruised and some petals are rended away. A lot can happen in a few hundred milliseconds.
The agent of destruction offers to pay for damages, at least. The bush had been appraised at $30. Thirty dollars it is.
The bush is trimmed to the root and left to grow again. Some time later, it blooms again. It looks beautiful again. But that ugly little knob remains at the base; what is it? This bush is beautiful, but it...has scars. The bush could be more beautiful.
I am going to be productive. It's so nice out and everything would be perfect if the past and future did not exist.
Maybe things will turn out well.
Next year I'll try to manage tasks better and do more fun things, since I want to be able to talk about cool adventures I had in college.
You want to break out of that black tar pit of self-hatred? Brush the black hair out of your eyes, step away from the computer and buy a nice gift for someone you loathe. Send a card to your worst enemy. Make dinner for your mom and dad. Or just do something simple, with an tangible result. Go clean the leaves out of the gutter. Grow a damn plant.
It ain't rocket science; you are a social animal and thus you are born with little happiness hormones that are released into your bloodstream when you see a physical benefit to your actions. Think about all those teenagers in their dark rooms, glued to their PC's, turning every life problem into ridiculous melodrama. Why do they make those cuts on their arms? It's because making the pain-and subsequent healing-tangible releases endorphins they don't get otherwise. It's pain, but at least it's real.
That form of stress relief via mild discomfort used to be part of our daily lives, via our routine of hunting gazelles and gathering berries and climbing rocks and fighting bears. No more. This is why office jobs make so many of us miserable; we don't get any physical, tangible result from our work. But do construction out in the hot sun for two months, and for the rest of your life you can drive past a certain house and say, "Holy shit, I built that." Maybe that's why mass shootings are more common in offices than construction sites.
It's the kind of physical, dirt-under-your-nails satisfaction that you can only get by turning off the computer, going outdoors and re-connecting with the real world. That feeling, that "I built that" or "I grew that" or "I fed that guy" or "I made these pants" feeling, can't be matched by anything the internet has to offer.
Read more: 7 Reasons the 21st Century is Making You Miserable | Cracked.com http://www.cracked.com/article_15231_7-reasons-21st-century-making-you-miserable.html#ixzz23SAbzx7Z
-David Wong, Cracked.com
What are you doing eating trashed, stale ABP pastries and feeling hosed but still okay when there's work to do? You're looking at a phys inorg pset (with 8, EIGHT problems) and a phys inorg PRESENTATION to prepare by mf'ing tomorrow at 8AM. Are you going to sleep tonight? Then you have to finish the nanoprocessing take home exam and write that 10 page paper on Brian Hoffman's EPR and ENDOR characterization of reactive intermediates in the generation of NO by cryoreduced oxy-nitric oxide synthase from g stearothermophilus.
Things may make sense now, but you're going to go braindead in a few hours, and you didn't sleep much last night either. To top it, remember that PRESENTATION you have to give at 8AM? Can't fake that.
Stop being sad over failing at circuits and smelling like burnt op amps. It smells bad.
Stop being sad about that presentation earlier. You're used to getting B's now. You're used to sucking at school now.
Stop eating that pastry; it doesn't taste good at all, and you're not even hungry.
Finish that presentation; you can't have your partner do all of it, and he might not either. You were supposed to finish that this morning.
Do that pset. IT'S ONLY 10% OF YOUR GRADE. THIS SINGLE PSET.
HOLY CRAP FJDISAOANDFSJONAFFFFFFFFFF