The Good and The Bad and The Suffering
May. 12th, 2005 05:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaToday has been an emotional rollercoaster and I'm entirely too tired to deal with it. I swear, the back of my brain is not functioning right now. I'm entirely too cold and shaky, and I've got to clean myself up and get back to school for late-version Improv practice by 5:30 tonight. I would have taken a nap, but, you know, that doesn't seem to be working lately.
SAD/SICK: I woke up unable to stand, having been awake and tripping on Nyquil all night. I cried and stomped around and was dizzy for a while, and then finally made it off to school.
HAPPY: Kristina and Nichole remembered that it was my birthday on Sunday, and Kristina baked me a delicious chocolate cake. I unwrapped some of the gifts, and got some flowery soap, Japanese chopsticks, a shirt that says, "Try Happy!" (the Calpis slogan!!!), and Harry Potter sour apple bodywash. I felt so loved! Thank you, Nichole and Kristina!
SAD: The AP Macroeconomics test was hard as hell, obviously. I knew nothing about interest rates. I felt like shit and almost fell asleep near the end, until that lady woke us up with the end of the test.
HAPPY: During the break, Seth, Deepak, Darren, Lindsey, Alice (well, she didn't have any . . . ), Robert, and I all gathered outside and ate some more of my cake. I felt loved.
HAPPY: Alice, Robert, and I skipped AP US Government (hey, they thought we were in the AP test, lol . . . since, well, we were all day, in theory) and watched Hamlet in the English room with the 3rd Hour kids.
SAD: Liz made fun of Romeo and Juliet at lunch today, but that's the least of my worries ^_^
SAD: I so did not want to go back to that OTHER 2-odd-hours-long test for the afternoon . . . I felt like I was going to die . . . I had wanted to slit my wrists during the first test . . . I felt like I completely blew it, and I did not want to do it all over again . . .
HAPPY: Microeconomics was possibly a lot easier than Macroeconomics, ironically quite so.
HAPPY: We ate cookies in Orchestra, and talked, and Liz and I played the "Miss Susie" hand-clap game, which led to a five-person "Hanky Panky" round and a tutorial session for Robert on "Rockin' Robin," the second verse of which we forgot and just sort of ad-libbed things about being in jail and selling drugs, lol . . . It was lots of fun, and very nostalgic. I left the class laughing.
HAPPY: Since Nichole had missed in the morning, I opened the other half of my gift, which was a Maneki-Neko tea set (woot!) in the afternoon with her and Kristina in the nook. We ate some more cake, and I shared some with Andrew and Mary, who happened to walk by and inquire about what I was doing. I was all too happy to share. It makes me feel even more loved.
Sure, loved for cake . . . but still loved.
HAPPY: Kristina and I then just sat and joked outside the French room in the dark (preserving heat in the school ^_^) while Nichole took her French test. Mrs. Smith passed by and wished me happy birthday. That was nice.
SAD: When we went to Mrs. Glenn's room to drop off Kristina's Summer Shakescenes form-- and pick up one for Nichole-- we had her read off the list of people who are signed up to do it. There are about eight or nine people, two of which are freshmen girls I have never heard of (which isn't bad but just sort of makes me uncomfortable). Also, Brock is the only guy. What kind of the hell Shakespeare play can you do with only one guy? Are we supposed to reverse the roles or something? I suppose we can always dress up as men, but some people don't like doing that and it's annoying to hear girls who can't play guys be forced to play them. They either whine, laugh every other word, or don't say anything special (and then, then again, there's Nichole, who tries, but just sounds like the gayest man on earth, lol ^_^). Dan Johnson's weenied out, apparently, though not officially, yet. Andrew still hasn't gotten his form in, even after he keeps promising me he will. Last Friday he was all stricken that he hadn't gotten it in. Well, when is he planning to? Mrs. Glenn says that's probably just his subtle way of saying he doesn't want to do it anymore. I sure hope not. We need him, and, well, he acted like he was going to do it . . . and right now I'm rather fed up with people breaking their promises. Kristina said that we should tell him she'll bake him a cake if he does it, and that he wouldn't want Brock to be the only guy surrounded by eight girls . . . I mean, come on, could Andrew stand for that? Lol . . .
SAD: So then I got home and Tiffany called. She was confused about my having a cake because, once again, she forgot my birthday, lol . . . So she guessed it, finally, and then said we'd have to do something tomorrow (you know, the day of my prom and all . . . ) since she wouldn't be able to do anything with me on my birthday since she was going to the dunes.
She had promised me, months ago, when she quit YHO, that she would at least come to my concert on my birthday-- my final YHO concert, my senior concert, on my BIRTHDAY. I had tried to guilt her out of even quitting, but, ultimately, she did; I couldn't stop her, after all. Yet she promised, PROMISED, in exchange, in tears, in perfect sincerity, that she would come to my senior YHO concert. I told her she'd forget. She promised she wouldn't.
Well, here we go again. Like Hitler: You give someone the Sudetenland, and they take all of Czechoslovakia.
She has plans with Brett, Mr. Man Thing. Classic case of Chicks vs. Dicks. I asked her if she couldn't tell him she made a mistake, that she had plans for someone's birthday that she forgot about, and reschedule. I was, frankly, quite shocked that she didn't immediately ensure me that she'd try. This just says quite clearly to me: You're not worth as much as Man Thing. Even on your birthday. Even after I made plans with you first. Even after I promised.
Obviously, there's still time for her to make up her mind in the other way, but, hell, what can I do about it? My happiness depends on her will. Sure, I'll have other people there, but if she doesn't show up I know I'll cry because she broke her promise, and that will ruin everything.
That's what gets me. It's not teaching her a lesson about welching on plans, or making her observe my birthday like a religious holiday. It's just that she PROMISED.
So I told her, quite sincerely, I will be thoroughly pissed off at her for a time if she doesn't come. I don't hate her, or anything. I don't view her any less. I'm disappointed, but she's no less in my mind. It certainly won't ruin the friendship-- of course not-- unless she lets it (which, I already told her, is THOROUGHLY unfair, making ME the bad guy . . . ), and I probably won't even show it . . . but I'll be hurt, badly. She can know this.
It won't be the first time I've been hurt.
I mean, maybe I'm just a selfish, guilt-tripping bitch, but I've had no sleep, and she DID promise. I guess I'm just so sick of suffering for everybody else. I put up with a lot from a lot of people. Maybe it doesn't look like it, but, then again, the things that bother me can be so small and inconsequential at times. Still, I suffer through them. Maybe that's no big deal, because that puts me on a level playing field with everyone else . . . but at the same time, shouldn't one's level of suffering to achieve that at least be taken into account?
Sometimes, I like to think I can put up with anything, that I could suffer for anyone's happiness any way. I can hold my tongue when someone has no reason to be upset just to be sympathetic; what's my wise-crack remark to their sensitivity? Their feelings are more important. If someone's had a bad day and mine was good, I don't flaunt mine to their face, or even look happy, even though it was great. If I had a bad day, too, I commiserate, and I don't try to make mine look worse by comparison. Shoot, I've even had fantasies of being like Jesus, and dying a terrible, horrible death so that everyone else could be saved. Heavens, that's what I'd LIKE to be able to do.
. . . but I'm not Jesus. I'm a person with feelings, too, and sometimes I'd like people to remember that . . . even if it is just something silly and stupid and inconsequential like a senior YHO concert on my birthday.
SAD/SICK: I woke up unable to stand, having been awake and tripping on Nyquil all night. I cried and stomped around and was dizzy for a while, and then finally made it off to school.
HAPPY: Kristina and Nichole remembered that it was my birthday on Sunday, and Kristina baked me a delicious chocolate cake. I unwrapped some of the gifts, and got some flowery soap, Japanese chopsticks, a shirt that says, "Try Happy!" (the Calpis slogan!!!), and Harry Potter sour apple bodywash. I felt so loved! Thank you, Nichole and Kristina!
SAD: The AP Macroeconomics test was hard as hell, obviously. I knew nothing about interest rates. I felt like shit and almost fell asleep near the end, until that lady woke us up with the end of the test.
HAPPY: During the break, Seth, Deepak, Darren, Lindsey, Alice (well, she didn't have any . . . ), Robert, and I all gathered outside and ate some more of my cake. I felt loved.
HAPPY: Alice, Robert, and I skipped AP US Government (hey, they thought we were in the AP test, lol . . . since, well, we were all day, in theory) and watched Hamlet in the English room with the 3rd Hour kids.
SAD: Liz made fun of Romeo and Juliet at lunch today, but that's the least of my worries ^_^
SAD: I so did not want to go back to that OTHER 2-odd-hours-long test for the afternoon . . . I felt like I was going to die . . . I had wanted to slit my wrists during the first test . . . I felt like I completely blew it, and I did not want to do it all over again . . .
HAPPY: Microeconomics was possibly a lot easier than Macroeconomics, ironically quite so.
HAPPY: We ate cookies in Orchestra, and talked, and Liz and I played the "Miss Susie" hand-clap game, which led to a five-person "Hanky Panky" round and a tutorial session for Robert on "Rockin' Robin," the second verse of which we forgot and just sort of ad-libbed things about being in jail and selling drugs, lol . . . It was lots of fun, and very nostalgic. I left the class laughing.
HAPPY: Since Nichole had missed in the morning, I opened the other half of my gift, which was a Maneki-Neko tea set (woot!) in the afternoon with her and Kristina in the nook. We ate some more cake, and I shared some with Andrew and Mary, who happened to walk by and inquire about what I was doing. I was all too happy to share. It makes me feel even more loved.
Sure, loved for cake . . . but still loved.
HAPPY: Kristina and I then just sat and joked outside the French room in the dark (preserving heat in the school ^_^) while Nichole took her French test. Mrs. Smith passed by and wished me happy birthday. That was nice.
SAD: When we went to Mrs. Glenn's room to drop off Kristina's Summer Shakescenes form-- and pick up one for Nichole-- we had her read off the list of people who are signed up to do it. There are about eight or nine people, two of which are freshmen girls I have never heard of (which isn't bad but just sort of makes me uncomfortable). Also, Brock is the only guy. What kind of the hell Shakespeare play can you do with only one guy? Are we supposed to reverse the roles or something? I suppose we can always dress up as men, but some people don't like doing that and it's annoying to hear girls who can't play guys be forced to play them. They either whine, laugh every other word, or don't say anything special (and then, then again, there's Nichole, who tries, but just sounds like the gayest man on earth, lol ^_^). Dan Johnson's weenied out, apparently, though not officially, yet. Andrew still hasn't gotten his form in, even after he keeps promising me he will. Last Friday he was all stricken that he hadn't gotten it in. Well, when is he planning to? Mrs. Glenn says that's probably just his subtle way of saying he doesn't want to do it anymore. I sure hope not. We need him, and, well, he acted like he was going to do it . . . and right now I'm rather fed up with people breaking their promises. Kristina said that we should tell him she'll bake him a cake if he does it, and that he wouldn't want Brock to be the only guy surrounded by eight girls . . . I mean, come on, could Andrew stand for that? Lol . . .
SAD: So then I got home and Tiffany called. She was confused about my having a cake because, once again, she forgot my birthday, lol . . . So she guessed it, finally, and then said we'd have to do something tomorrow (you know, the day of my prom and all . . . ) since she wouldn't be able to do anything with me on my birthday since she was going to the dunes.
She had promised me, months ago, when she quit YHO, that she would at least come to my concert on my birthday-- my final YHO concert, my senior concert, on my BIRTHDAY. I had tried to guilt her out of even quitting, but, ultimately, she did; I couldn't stop her, after all. Yet she promised, PROMISED, in exchange, in tears, in perfect sincerity, that she would come to my senior YHO concert. I told her she'd forget. She promised she wouldn't.
Well, here we go again. Like Hitler: You give someone the Sudetenland, and they take all of Czechoslovakia.
She has plans with Brett, Mr. Man Thing. Classic case of Chicks vs. Dicks. I asked her if she couldn't tell him she made a mistake, that she had plans for someone's birthday that she forgot about, and reschedule. I was, frankly, quite shocked that she didn't immediately ensure me that she'd try. This just says quite clearly to me: You're not worth as much as Man Thing. Even on your birthday. Even after I made plans with you first. Even after I promised.
Obviously, there's still time for her to make up her mind in the other way, but, hell, what can I do about it? My happiness depends on her will. Sure, I'll have other people there, but if she doesn't show up I know I'll cry because she broke her promise, and that will ruin everything.
That's what gets me. It's not teaching her a lesson about welching on plans, or making her observe my birthday like a religious holiday. It's just that she PROMISED.
So I told her, quite sincerely, I will be thoroughly pissed off at her for a time if she doesn't come. I don't hate her, or anything. I don't view her any less. I'm disappointed, but she's no less in my mind. It certainly won't ruin the friendship-- of course not-- unless she lets it (which, I already told her, is THOROUGHLY unfair, making ME the bad guy . . . ), and I probably won't even show it . . . but I'll be hurt, badly. She can know this.
It won't be the first time I've been hurt.
I mean, maybe I'm just a selfish, guilt-tripping bitch, but I've had no sleep, and she DID promise. I guess I'm just so sick of suffering for everybody else. I put up with a lot from a lot of people. Maybe it doesn't look like it, but, then again, the things that bother me can be so small and inconsequential at times. Still, I suffer through them. Maybe that's no big deal, because that puts me on a level playing field with everyone else . . . but at the same time, shouldn't one's level of suffering to achieve that at least be taken into account?
Sometimes, I like to think I can put up with anything, that I could suffer for anyone's happiness any way. I can hold my tongue when someone has no reason to be upset just to be sympathetic; what's my wise-crack remark to their sensitivity? Their feelings are more important. If someone's had a bad day and mine was good, I don't flaunt mine to their face, or even look happy, even though it was great. If I had a bad day, too, I commiserate, and I don't try to make mine look worse by comparison. Shoot, I've even had fantasies of being like Jesus, and dying a terrible, horrible death so that everyone else could be saved. Heavens, that's what I'd LIKE to be able to do.
. . . but I'm not Jesus. I'm a person with feelings, too, and sometimes I'd like people to remember that . . . even if it is just something silly and stupid and inconsequential like a senior YHO concert on my birthday.
