I'm feeling really annoyed with myself. Not necessarily more than usual on a quantitative level, but qualitatively.
I mean, could I have been more than I am right now? Yes, I know I could have. Maybe the real problem is that I just don't have the patience to "give it my all". Or maybe my life has been too easy for me to see the value in doing so. Certainly, at this point in time and considering my family, it's too soon to have had the sort of experience that tells me one way or the other what level of input/output disequilibrium I'm willing to tolerate. But, at the same time, I'm pissed off at myself for almost always, with very few exceptions, taking life as easy as I have since high school. And retrospectively, since high school, that I didn't have the level of self-awareness earlier on in life that might have put me in a totally different position than I am in now.
I hate to sound like I'm complaining about my life now; in truth, I'm not. It really is objectively nearly as good as I could ask for it to be. I've got enough spare cash to indulge in fun or buy extra food occassionally if I like. And my perspective on things has loostened up enough that I'll actually let myself buy extra food. I live in a comfy-ish dorm, am receiving higher education, and generally don't have to stress too much about anything. But ignoring the stress part, which obviously most people want to avoid as much as possible, I keep thinking about what more I could and should do.
I have enough spare cash mostly from extra loan money, so I don't work; I applied to a few jobs but I haven't heard back from them and have stopped looking. I was actually in the process of signing up to volunteer as a reading tutor for 2nd and 3rd graders, but I didn't follow through. I'm leading the college's very small philosophical discussion group, and it seems to be dying before my eyes. I don't frequently read unless I have to, save for newspaper and magazine articles, and the very occasional academic journal. I don't work out, despite all my whining about my appearance, because I'd rather sit around doing stuff like this. I no longer try actively to socialize for the plethora of reasons I've mentioned repeatedly before. I don't generally put more effort into school than is necessary to get by with a 3.2-something GPA. I don't do many outdoor recreational activities. I just don't do much of anything other than waste my time.
And the worst part about it is that I don't mind that. I don't mind that I'm letting the prime years of my life slip behind me unnoticed and, save for the knowledge of what could have been, unmissed. I know I should do more, and I want to be the sort of person who wants to do more; I just can't bring myself to that point. I'm apathetic to the point that it bothers me, and I don't know why. It's not like I enjoy myself on a daily basis doing what I do, I just don't seem to care enough to figure out and do what I enjoy doing. But that can't be totally true; if it made me miserable, I'd change it, right?
Occassionally in the past, and much more frequently as of late, I have a picture of what I want my life to be like for the next 10-15 years. And despite my intermittent desires to have a family, volunteer, learn to cook, learn foreign languages, travel, be outdoors-y, it's been coming to much, much less for a good while now.
Save for having a body that I love, and being able to sleep around as much as I please, have a cheap-and-frugal but fun-to-drive car, and a respectable apartment. From my perspective, all that means I don't want any major changes. I just want to find somewhere to live (San Diego holds a lot of appeal for me, for some reason), work as a mechanic or some other such skilled-but-non-intellectual job, and spend my spare time watching TV and movies. I don't even think that'd cover most of my time, but I think I'd just spend the rest doing what I do here: thinking aloud and wasting days accomplishing nothing real. The scary part for me is that I'm not on track for that, nor am I really on track for that alternative, sunny future I sometimes want and appear to be working towards now. Like I said, the worst part is I have no real desire to change this situation, although I know I can't go on like this forever.
Again I have to ask, what is wrong with me?
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Continued
(Yes, the title of this post is intentionally ambiguous. Do you like it? No? Well, it'll be obvious in a second anyway....)
So now that I'm back in the U.S., back at my uni, and back to the semi-daily grind, I'm reminded of all the other, slightly more pressing personal issues I face. The list:
1. I have no real passions, and therefore don't really know what to do with myself
2. I have no confidence or comfort with myself, and therefore don't know whom to turn to for/how to seek aid in these matters
3. Because of (1) and (2), am stuck in a position where:
a. I don't want to do anything
b. I don't want to figure out how to not want to do nothing
This list is, I'm sure, not unique to me, nor is it comprehensive, nor even very descriptive of the way I feel on a semi-hourly basis. That aside...Case in point: I've signed up, perhaps stupidly, for two philosophy seminar courses this semester. Why? Well, I dunno. I originally signed up for one, and even now after a mere three weeks in that one, I'm not sure that I understand/care enough to try to understand what is being taught. The other should be good, but I joined it recently enough that I can't say for sure, and in truth, I don't care enough about either at this point to want to put in the effort necessary to actually enjoy them later.
Additionally, after having taken two years of essentially a sham of a Chinese language course, and having received an award for the second year of it, I dropped out because now, three years in, the administers of the program decide to treat it like an actual language course, and thus believe that spending four hours outside of class for every one hour in class (in a class that meets for 5 and 1/2 hours ever week) is a reasonable expectation when previously 1/2 an hour sufficed for an entire week; language acquisition does not work retroactively in the way they seem to want it to. The enrollment from the second to third year of Chinese dropped by about 80%. We are collectively wise, it seems. Laoshi should approve....
On the other hand, I have started Japanese and am fully cognizant of the fact that this is an actual language course in the way that that third year Chinese course is; also, because it's Introductory Japanese, they don't presume that you have two years of prior knowledge given to you when really you don't and it wasn't. After the first week of the class, and having learned of the grammatical similarities between Japanese and Korean, I am convinced I should have been taking Japanese all along. I am, however, very, very frustrated by the lacksadaisical manner in which the various publishers/distributors of my school books have decided to deliver what I paid for two weeks ago.
The gist of all that is that I still feel very much so as though I have no idea of what I really want to/am willing to tolerate doing with my life, and am much more comfortable with the untenable conditions in which I live now, which is particularly troubling considering the heapin' helpin' of loans that await me post-graduation, nevermind the continuing and deeply-affecting feeling of loneliness I have, which my summer experience did nothing to alleviate in the long-term, assuming it didn't exacerbate it, which it probably did.
Maybe I should just join the military. After all, free meals, free showers, forcing you to workout until you've got abs, arms, a butt, and a proper upper body, having most things decided for you on a daily basis, forced camaraderie? All in exchange for the chance to risk your life as an occupation? I don't even have the proper onomatopoeia to express my attitude toward all that.
Blarg? Yeah, maybe.
Blarg....
So now that I'm back in the U.S., back at my uni, and back to the semi-daily grind, I'm reminded of all the other, slightly more pressing personal issues I face. The list:
1. I have no real passions, and therefore don't really know what to do with myself
2. I have no confidence or comfort with myself, and therefore don't know whom to turn to for/how to seek aid in these matters
3. Because of (1) and (2), am stuck in a position where:
a. I don't want to do anything
b. I don't want to figure out how to not want to do nothing
This list is, I'm sure, not unique to me, nor is it comprehensive, nor even very descriptive of the way I feel on a semi-hourly basis. That aside...Case in point: I've signed up, perhaps stupidly, for two philosophy seminar courses this semester. Why? Well, I dunno. I originally signed up for one, and even now after a mere three weeks in that one, I'm not sure that I understand/care enough to try to understand what is being taught. The other should be good, but I joined it recently enough that I can't say for sure, and in truth, I don't care enough about either at this point to want to put in the effort necessary to actually enjoy them later.
Additionally, after having taken two years of essentially a sham of a Chinese language course, and having received an award for the second year of it, I dropped out because now, three years in, the administers of the program decide to treat it like an actual language course, and thus believe that spending four hours outside of class for every one hour in class (in a class that meets for 5 and 1/2 hours ever week) is a reasonable expectation when previously 1/2 an hour sufficed for an entire week; language acquisition does not work retroactively in the way they seem to want it to. The enrollment from the second to third year of Chinese dropped by about 80%. We are collectively wise, it seems. Laoshi should approve....
On the other hand, I have started Japanese and am fully cognizant of the fact that this is an actual language course in the way that that third year Chinese course is; also, because it's Introductory Japanese, they don't presume that you have two years of prior knowledge given to you when really you don't and it wasn't. After the first week of the class, and having learned of the grammatical similarities between Japanese and Korean, I am convinced I should have been taking Japanese all along. I am, however, very, very frustrated by the lacksadaisical manner in which the various publishers/distributors of my school books have decided to deliver what I paid for two weeks ago.
The gist of all that is that I still feel very much so as though I have no idea of what I really want to/am willing to tolerate doing with my life, and am much more comfortable with the untenable conditions in which I live now, which is particularly troubling considering the heapin' helpin' of loans that await me post-graduation, nevermind the continuing and deeply-affecting feeling of loneliness I have, which my summer experience did nothing to alleviate in the long-term, assuming it didn't exacerbate it, which it probably did.
Maybe I should just join the military. After all, free meals, free showers, forcing you to workout until you've got abs, arms, a butt, and a proper upper body, having most things decided for you on a daily basis, forced camaraderie? All in exchange for the chance to risk your life as an occupation? I don't even have the proper onomatopoeia to express my attitude toward all that.
Blarg? Yeah, maybe.
Blarg....
Oi....
Wouldn't ya know it, I'm back here again. I'd say, "Oh, so much has happened!" since my last post six months ago, and some interesting things have happened. But obviously, the fact that I'm back here talking about essentially the same stuff as I was before shows that ultimately, it's still the same.
(Of course, this being the first post in six months, it'll be a long one. Shocker, I know.)
I suppose it's best to start out with what has changed since my last post. The biggest thing, aside from finishing my junior year of college and entering my last year, was going to South Korea for a study abroad over a six-week period. It was...well...disappointing. Not the country; that was amazing, and I'm seriously planning on going back there to be an English teacher for at least a year. So much to do in such a wonderful, incredibly fascinating, inexplicably oft-overlooked place. No, South Korea was wonderful, as were all the people I met there: lots of Korean-Americans, mostly from California (there's a real dearth of them in the northeastern U.S.), and a lot of people from the rest of the country. Nevermind the interest in most things generally that the Korean people themselves piqued in me. The real disappointment in Seoul was, well, me.
I did my best. I tried, I really did. We started out with a three-day tour of Jeju Island, off the southern coast. It started out slowly, as I might have expected. I met some people, many who were nice, but none who made an immediate, dramatic first impression on me. Then I somehow got in with what I'm ashamed to say I thought of at first as "the cool crowd". I know, just like high school, right?
Not that there was anything that I discovered about any of them that I disliked, nor did they seem to be the sort of people most people would find anything wrong with (other than the nearly-continuous head-butting of two of the girls; it was like moderating a pair of moody 13-year olds). They were also quite an attractive bunch of people, which I suppose is where my adolescent mind got the whole "cool" picture from; nonetheless, it was a confidence booster that they accepted me so readily. Remember, this is essentially self-esteemless me we're talking about; I'd say I live for those sorts of moments if I believed that they were ever earnest as concerns me. Anyway....
So, whilst staying at the hotel on the island, there was a party held in one person's generously-sized room. It started out slow, small, and quiet, yet as these things are wont to do, quickly ballooned. Nonetheless, a guy had caught my eye from the outset. I assumed him straight, because that's the way these things seem to work with me. But we hit it off nonetheless, and the cramped-ness of the room meant we were in close physical proximity. His ease around me, and the fact that I wanted him to be, led me to think, "...hm, maybe he's not straight". Of course, despite my hopes, he was in fact straight. Dargnabit. Good looking, tall for a Korean guy, muscular/thickly built and capable of holding an intelligent, extended conversation on race relations/nationalism despite us both having had quite a bit to drink at this point. ****. O well. The first of many disappointments yet to come.
Of course, after that encounter was when things got, mmmm, interesting for me. The hotel was right on the coast, with a seawall just across the street from the hotel; this became the post-party cooldown/gathering spot. And to my surprise (though happily enough due to our collective tipsy-ness, not my chagrin), I began the sort of questioning that I secretly want to ask everyone. You know, the 13-year old girl ones like, "am I good looking", "do you think I'm attractive", etc. And I got a lot of affirmative replies; not of course from most of the guys, but from many of the girls, most of whom at this point knew I'm gay, and so did not have a an immediately-obvious stake in saying yay or nay. This would nonetheless play into my whole, "if I'm your friend, you want to keep me that way" idea, but we were all drunk and tired at that point; we'd say what we wanted. Nevermind there was a drunken, really very-cute-but-not-my-type Korean guy who was hanging around me the whole time. Hm. This makes it more interesting
After having left the island and returned to Seoul, the fabulously-attired, insanely hectic, and otherwise exhilarating metropolis, things began to be more normal, both generally and for me personally. As I split up from the group of people (mainly girls) whom I had bonded with on the island into different classes, I began to pull back into my shell (Is there some other analogy for that? There should be.). Nonetheless, some of them lasted past that initial foray in South Korea. I did end up hanging out with them, and we even went clubbing more than once. I had fun, and even made out with the aforementioned Korean hang-arounder that I didn't really find attractive, even if I envied his appearance.
(Sidenote: Gay guy has first kiss in Korea?? Whaaaat???)
But me? Clubbing? Yes, I hated it, too....And that's the part that sucks, I mean in retrospect, really, really sucks. It's not that I didn't want to go clubbing, just f**king lose my mind for once. And it's not necessarily the fact that I physically don't feel right in my own skin. It's that no one expects someone this tall to look right dancing, and I know that. I can't lose my mind because it just isn't done for some people. At this point, I'm not even sure that it's really in me to do so. So instead of just for once enjoying myself, I'm constantly thinking about how what I can't do is what I want to do because I can't stop thinking about what I can/want to do. My head it getting in the way, both literally via its altitude, and figuratively because I've got (and I know others have, too) preconceived notions about what is and isn't appropriate behavior for someone physically shaped the way I am. Never even mind that the physical shape I have has influenced my behavior such that I have these stifling conceptions about how someone shaped like me is supposed to behave. Ugh. Annoyed/disgusted with myself.
I'd tell the rest in detail, but aside from running into yet another straight guy whom I thought was perfect in oh-so-many ways (Good height and stocky? Viola player with a $66,000 viola? Economics and Philsophy major who got a perfect SAT score? What the m@&^%# f$@#ing f^&%?!?! Maybe God really does hate gay people. Or me, anyway. Bastard.), it was pretty much same-ol', same-ol': people don't call me, I don't call them because I assume they must not care to hang out because they haven't called, people don't call me because I don't call them, etc. ad infinitum. I still don't know how to gauge people's enjoyment of my company or their fondness for me generally. And I'm still stuck in the mindset of my physical appearance necessarily dictating my every social interaction, despite evidence that a.) it's a positive influence, and/or, b.) it's a negligible influence.
Although, while over there, I did come to the conclusion that one of my honest-to-goodness life goals is to become a sex object, and another one I'd be happy to settle with is the career of househusband. What the hell is wrong with me?
(Of course, this being the first post in six months, it'll be a long one. Shocker, I know.)
I suppose it's best to start out with what has changed since my last post. The biggest thing, aside from finishing my junior year of college and entering my last year, was going to South Korea for a study abroad over a six-week period. It was...well...disappointing. Not the country; that was amazing, and I'm seriously planning on going back there to be an English teacher for at least a year. So much to do in such a wonderful, incredibly fascinating, inexplicably oft-overlooked place. No, South Korea was wonderful, as were all the people I met there: lots of Korean-Americans, mostly from California (there's a real dearth of them in the northeastern U.S.), and a lot of people from the rest of the country. Nevermind the interest in most things generally that the Korean people themselves piqued in me. The real disappointment in Seoul was, well, me.
I did my best. I tried, I really did. We started out with a three-day tour of Jeju Island, off the southern coast. It started out slowly, as I might have expected. I met some people, many who were nice, but none who made an immediate, dramatic first impression on me. Then I somehow got in with what I'm ashamed to say I thought of at first as "the cool crowd". I know, just like high school, right?
Not that there was anything that I discovered about any of them that I disliked, nor did they seem to be the sort of people most people would find anything wrong with (other than the nearly-continuous head-butting of two of the girls; it was like moderating a pair of moody 13-year olds). They were also quite an attractive bunch of people, which I suppose is where my adolescent mind got the whole "cool" picture from; nonetheless, it was a confidence booster that they accepted me so readily. Remember, this is essentially self-esteemless me we're talking about; I'd say I live for those sorts of moments if I believed that they were ever earnest as concerns me. Anyway....
So, whilst staying at the hotel on the island, there was a party held in one person's generously-sized room. It started out slow, small, and quiet, yet as these things are wont to do, quickly ballooned. Nonetheless, a guy had caught my eye from the outset. I assumed him straight, because that's the way these things seem to work with me. But we hit it off nonetheless, and the cramped-ness of the room meant we were in close physical proximity. His ease around me, and the fact that I wanted him to be, led me to think, "...hm, maybe he's not straight". Of course, despite my hopes, he was in fact straight. Dargnabit. Good looking, tall for a Korean guy, muscular/thickly built and capable of holding an intelligent, extended conversation on race relations/nationalism despite us both having had quite a bit to drink at this point. ****. O well. The first of many disappointments yet to come.
Of course, after that encounter was when things got, mmmm, interesting for me. The hotel was right on the coast, with a seawall just across the street from the hotel; this became the post-party cooldown/gathering spot. And to my surprise (though happily enough due to our collective tipsy-ness, not my chagrin), I began the sort of questioning that I secretly want to ask everyone. You know, the 13-year old girl ones like, "am I good looking", "do you think I'm attractive", etc. And I got a lot of affirmative replies; not of course from most of the guys, but from many of the girls, most of whom at this point knew I'm gay, and so did not have a an immediately-obvious stake in saying yay or nay. This would nonetheless play into my whole, "if I'm your friend, you want to keep me that way" idea, but we were all drunk and tired at that point; we'd say what we wanted. Nevermind there was a drunken, really very-cute-but-not-my-type Korean guy who was hanging around me the whole time. Hm. This makes it more interesting
After having left the island and returned to Seoul, the fabulously-attired, insanely hectic, and otherwise exhilarating metropolis, things began to be more normal, both generally and for me personally. As I split up from the group of people (mainly girls) whom I had bonded with on the island into different classes, I began to pull back into my shell (Is there some other analogy for that? There should be.). Nonetheless, some of them lasted past that initial foray in South Korea. I did end up hanging out with them, and we even went clubbing more than once. I had fun, and even made out with the aforementioned Korean hang-arounder that I didn't really find attractive, even if I envied his appearance.
(Sidenote: Gay guy has first kiss in Korea?? Whaaaat???)
But me? Clubbing? Yes, I hated it, too....And that's the part that sucks, I mean in retrospect, really, really sucks. It's not that I didn't want to go clubbing, just f**king lose my mind for once. And it's not necessarily the fact that I physically don't feel right in my own skin. It's that no one expects someone this tall to look right dancing, and I know that. I can't lose my mind because it just isn't done for some people. At this point, I'm not even sure that it's really in me to do so. So instead of just for once enjoying myself, I'm constantly thinking about how what I can't do is what I want to do because I can't stop thinking about what I can/want to do. My head it getting in the way, both literally via its altitude, and figuratively because I've got (and I know others have, too) preconceived notions about what is and isn't appropriate behavior for someone physically shaped the way I am. Never even mind that the physical shape I have has influenced my behavior such that I have these stifling conceptions about how someone shaped like me is supposed to behave. Ugh. Annoyed/disgusted with myself.
I'd tell the rest in detail, but aside from running into yet another straight guy whom I thought was perfect in oh-so-many ways (Good height and stocky? Viola player with a $66,000 viola? Economics and Philsophy major who got a perfect SAT score? What the m@&^%# f$@#ing f^&%?!?! Maybe God really does hate gay people. Or me, anyway. Bastard.), it was pretty much same-ol', same-ol': people don't call me, I don't call them because I assume they must not care to hang out because they haven't called, people don't call me because I don't call them, etc. ad infinitum. I still don't know how to gauge people's enjoyment of my company or their fondness for me generally. And I'm still stuck in the mindset of my physical appearance necessarily dictating my every social interaction, despite evidence that a.) it's a positive influence, and/or, b.) it's a negligible influence.
Although, while over there, I did come to the conclusion that one of my honest-to-goodness life goals is to become a sex object, and another one I'd be happy to settle with is the career of househusband. What the hell is wrong with me?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)