273: Stream of Consciousness (1)
So, uh, this is my first stream of consciousness piece. Well, my first official one, at least. I’ll probably do a lot more of these, just for sorting out my thoughts, thinking about life.
At the moment, it’s 2.41 am. I should be sleeping, but I was in a 4-hour coma after lunchtime. I needed to sleep my Sunday afternoon for some reason. I can’t explain. I don’t know how to. I needed that coma. Fruitful dreams, but I always barely remember them after a while. So I should keep a dream journal, but I never remember to. Mental notes are easy to lose. I was telling myself that I’d get up at half past 6 to handwrite my essay, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. Either I do it now or do it at random points in the day before 1 pm, which is the deadline, well, more or less. My fingers are cold and would rather type on this clunky, awkward external keyboard. The h, n, y and 6 key on my laptop keyboard are broken. Usually jackhammering any of them will eventually wake them up, but it doesn’t seem to h ave worked for the past few days, so I was forced to get an external keyboard. Oh well.
Hard at work making this stream of consciousness piece work. On my second screen are my physics notes, which I have been working hard to keep neat and free of mistakes, and ready for final exams in 2 months. I should be focusing on my English Extension major work though – that’s due next week. But English Extension is so painful, and postcolonialism is so painful, and hegemony…eurgh, that’s why I started early. I always get the most done on the first day I start on any long-term project. I wish I could keep up that momentum throughout the entire duration of the project though. Ah, it will all be over soon, one day..442 or 441 days until the first week of the HSC for me? I don’t know. I’m counting down the days…but I should be counting down while doing something productive with my life. Yes. I think I’ll be writing a novel after my HSC is over. But not based on my Stocks Prize assessment. I got a poor mark for it, sigh. Something wrong with the guidelines, or maybe I wasn’t sure what the system wanted from me and giving my heart to the words wasn’t enough because I’m not skilled enough. Also, some clever bitches in my grade were badmouthing it, and of course, never let people get to your heads, but I knew that in my heart it was all shit and they were right, so yeah, not basing my novel on that stupid short story. I was never made for short stories. Was I ever made for anything? Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off with fewer wits than I do now, better off just being in a normal high school with normal high school things going on around me and just being a normal student and trying to survive these big tests and do something normal at university, maybe English literature (yeah, I know, I said English Extension was painful, but somehow I have that romantic idea of English literature at university), or maybe communications. Journalism is hard for non-white people to get into though, at least I don’t see very many non-white people as news anchors. I don’t know why I’m worried about that though. If I had fewer wits I could get a decent paying job as a person with some kind of occupation and I could live just fine, but would I be happy? Would I really be happy being so wilfully ignorant and having few opinions and having few wits? It really bugs me every day, in the back of my mind. People tell me that it’s good I have so much potential, that I could do whatever I wanted, that I was smart enough to and exhibited all signs of growing a happy baby. Yeah, that was fifteen years ago. Sounds like a long time but that was basically my whole life. I’m seventeen and three months. I feel like I would be better off happy if I was dumber and didn’t have so much potential. Knowing too much, trying to know too much or be the best, eventually it wears down on you. I know I cannot hope to ever be the best. It’s hard to believe something like that when you go to a school full of girls with just about the same, if not more, potential as you and that scares me. Is this environment healthy? It’s safe, at least no one is openly doing drugs or being violent, but am I going to be safe forever? The real world isn’t like the high school I’m in. There are people out there who will go around being violent because they think it’s fun. There are people out there who look down on us because they think we’re better than them and they don’t like that. There is always going to be someone out there who is either better than you and they don’t like you because you’re worse, or you’re better than them and they don’t like you because they’re worse. So what am I going to do when I leave school? I will meet these people. I want to figure out how to deal with them without getting hurt. I want to meet a variety of people, not just the people in my high school. In my high school, we’re all girls. We’re all called smart. We’re all given the same blessed opportunities by teachers who want the best for us. Maybe. I don’t know. I guess there is some variety with us, but everyone is a good person at heart. I want to meet somebody bad, someone with hateful intentions, yeah, it won’t be safe, but where will I get that life experience for myself and get myself an anecdote to tell my children? Yeah, thinking about children already and I’m only seventeen and I’ve only been kissed once and I consider myself emotionally unavailable yet I crave the love and affection of a man who is not my father and what do I do? I’m crazy. I’m really crazy. I purposefully stuff up my sleeping patterns so I can stay up late and be creative because I still want to be creative even if the burden of academia is constantly on my shoulders. Oh, and looking up from the last line of every letter I’m typing I realise this is very long and my word count is telling me that it’s more than a thousand words. So I guess I’m going to post this and browse the Internet, read some Reddit /r/nosleep and write a few more words for my science notes. I don’t have Maths class tomorrow so I don’t have to worry about not doing the homework on time. I’m probably ten exercises behind still, but I’ll catch up eventually. This was fun, I’ll do it again sometime. Goodnight.