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I looked through a few journals from when I was younger today. They made me laugh. Is that how this current journal is going to look to future me? I hope so. I take myself seriously now, but if it makes me laugh when I'm twenty or thirty, that's totally cool.

A gem:

"Oh, by the way, my two goals are: Ultimate power... and true love."

You go, little me. If I were to simplify things, those are probably still my two goals. Both impossible. :D

I spent most of the day doing summer reading. I finished Mississippi, and got about forty pages into Heir to the Glimmering World. What a pretentious title. It's also from 2004. I thought it was older.

After I finished reading, I did nothing, and it was awesome. I'm not sure whether I want to rewrite a terrible story I found from third grade (about a girl named Isabel who could speak to cats and a witch named Kathleen) or do more of my Sableye solo run of Emerald. Or watch more Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt! I'm indecisive. I'd like to do all three, but it's already ten, so I don't think I have time if I want to get back into a school schedule.
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Humans should strive for achievement, but not compete with one another.

The fact of the matter is, we all start out on VERY unequal footing. Our life choices affect us immensely, even when we're young and don't know what we're doing. That six-year-old who dislikes reading? Yeah, he potentially messed up the optimal outcome of his adult life. And we can't blame him. That's just what happened.

Not to mention environment, and of course predisposition from birth.

I'm good at writing. I work at it like fuck, I analyze books, movies, TV shows, and comics in minute detail, and I spend time on it, but that doesn't mean that my advantage over the other writers my age is fair. Something, whether it's something in my brain or a life experience, gave me this capacity, this drive. And because I have no clone (who lived the same life), other people and I aren't on equal footing.

This goes for EVERYTHING. Sports, acting, science... nothing is fair.

So when something is accomplished, yes, it's a great thing. The person worked hard on their achievement and should be commended. But you CAN'T compare ANYTHING anyone does with the accomplishments of others, because it isn't fair. There is no way it CAN be fair. And that's okay, really, but we need to stop praising people for WINNING competitions.

Not necessarily stop having them, because beating other people is a good driving force, but we need to understand that if someone wins, that's because of the incredibly different lives and brains of the competitors.

Actually, maybe we can never tell people this, or at least never come to accept it in our culture. If we did, would we lose our motivation? Would people even believe this? Would it matter? The whole "making decisions, then coming up with evidence to support the ready-made decision" thing comes to mind. There's no way possible to convince the world that everything we know is a lie.

Heck, I'm the most competitive person I know. And the fact that I AM that way is already a disadvantage to everyone I compete against -- but I digress.

Anyway, I'm a hypocrite proposing a nonsense view of the world. Is this similar to nihilism? I should go look that up.

In summary, everything we know is a lie, there is no such thing as fair -- or even CLOSE to fair -- competition, and we will never be able to fully alter our zeitgeists. :)

Oh

Feb. 17th, 2012 11:39 pm
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There are bugs crawling over my skin again.

I looked this up, and apparently it can be a sign of caffeine overdose, but I haven't had that much caffeine today. The only other reason that would fit would be a mental disorder.

...I'm just hoping that this means that I have low caffeine tolerance or something. Even though I don't feel any usual averse effects of caffeine overdose other than the tactile hallucinations.

Yay.
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I just realized. The last time I went to the doctor, I weighed about 112 pounds. Since then, I've lost eight pounds, and now weight 104 pounds.

That's not good. At my weight and height, people don't consider it healthy to lose any weight at all. Mom already nagged me about my weight loss back when I weighed 106 pounds. Imagine what she'll do if we go to the doctor and they tell her I've lost two (or more, the appointment is in about five months) pounds since she last inspected me.

Basically, I'm fucked.

I should probably make goals for myself, like eat all three meals every day, or at least eat lunch and dinner every day, but I know I won't keep to my plan. I'm just... not hungry most of the time.

Today I was starving. I had one and a half pieces of pizza for lunch, and I actually ate dinner despite no one forcing me to. The problem is, to normal people, that's not eating much. 1.5 pieces of pizza and half a bowl of fried rice? That's a single meal. Maybe even half a meal.

But my stomach just can't handle any more food than that. I don't like eating, and at this point I can't eat.

It doesn't really bother me.

I just don't want to be sent to anorexia camp or the hospital or wherever my mom decides to toss me when she finds out that I DON'T FUCKING LIKE FOOD.

Great.

Favoritism

Jan. 8th, 2012 12:15 pm
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It shouldn't even bother me anymore. I know too much about it to let it bother me.

But it still does.

The last time I was sick, about two years ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and sprinted to the bathroom to vomit. I was very careful to get it all in the toilet bowl. I was dehydrated, so I puked up basically pure acid, and my throat felt like the acid was eating through it. I gulped down a bottle of water, but it didn't help in the least.

I hadn't wanted to wake anyone up, but sobbing, scared and in intense pain, I ran to my mom's bedroom.

"Mom," I whispered, after shaking her awake, "I just threw up a lot and my throat burns. I think there's something wrong."

"Drink some water," she muttered.

"I did. It didn't work. I'm really scared."

"Go drink some more." And with that, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

My throat did get better, but it was still terrifying.

Last night, my little brother got sick. He began to make loud retching noises around 11. I yelled to run to the bathroom and wait there if he felt like throwing up--I didn't go to his room because finals is soon and I can't afford to get sick--but he just kept moaning and retching. And threw up all over the floor.

Mom cleaned it up.

Because I was half-asleep I'm not sure exactly what happened last night, but I do know that my brother kept my mom awake all night. He refused to vomit in the bathroom, and she cleaned everything up.

No one gives a damn if I'm sick.

Fuck.

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