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In two days, my mother is coming from Hong Kong to visit me here in the UK. We're planning to head up to Edinburgh for a couple of days, and booking tickets and accommodation for us has been mentally taxing. In the past few days, I've been trying to research and brainstorm all the things we could do in Scotland and in Kent, and I'm just very, very tired now. You would think that her going to visit one of her old students in Exeter for two days would help lessen the burden, but I actually have a test the day after she comes back. My break-from-Mom gone, just like that. In the next month, I'm also planning to meet up with two of my closest friends, three times, separately, in London. I have two essays due and a lot of computer stuff to do too. I've also had to search for accommodation for next year, and it's been a complete nightmare so far...
I actually have plans to open up another blog... on the 15th of February in fact. On top of getting that ready, I also have to prepare posts on this blog and Do you hate it too? for each day that I'm with my mother, from the 10th to the 20th. It's all just snowballed, and it's all really, really, really working me hard, but I just have to power through it, I guess.
There are two times during the year that have notoriously been very busy times for me. One is around February/March, the other is around May/June. Every year during these times, I'm so, so stressed out and I just cannot feel relaxed. In the past, there have been plays to perform, examinations to take, orals to do, 4,000-word essays to hand in, presentations, reports, and so many birthdays and anniversaries to attend...
I'm so tired. These two times of the year I always see coming my way, but I never have any defense set up to protect myself from it. This year, it's going to change - it has to change. I need to quickly pick up my efficiency so that I can deal with things faster and more effectively, hence prevent stressing myself out during these times again.
And now, I'm a little bit hungry.
Okay, actually, I'm very hungry. So I'm going to go make some pasta. Toodles.
Well, it's been a very long day, but I have nobody to blame but myself, because I chose to wake up at around two in the morning. I could've gone back to sleep, but instead, I decided I would finish off my new blog, get a Twitter account for Do you hate it too?, one for myself, and also create a fan page on Facebook. I also did some reading on conducting ethnographic research in past civilizations - it proved to be difficult to stay awake, but it's now more than eighteen hours later, and I'm still here.
For most of the day, I was feeling scared inside.
I am scared about how I will feel after I announce the launch of all those things, I don't know what I expect - if I want a lot of the attention, or if I might get freaked out by it. I was certainly freaked out when I found out that people were writing reviews about me without telling me. (I hate it when people read my blog but don't tell me.)
I often ask myself if I want to be recognized. I ponder it all the time, because it takes a lot of guts to be a person with a widely known name and personality. It takes guts to devote so much time to something like blogging, instead of doing something else that might be practical and productive. It takes guts to self-publish a book. And it takes guts to pour your thoughts, your memories and your feelings out on a public forum where just about anybody can (and actually is everybody that) reads it.
I'm not always sure I have the guts. Most of the time, I like to give off the impression that I do, but those who truly know me, know that I have a lot of fat question marks, sitting on broomsticks, flying around inside my head. I know I doubt my own ability. Worse yet, I doubt my own potential. All I can feel comfortable with admitting are my mistakes, my downsides, the reasons why not.
I wonder why that is. Maybe it's just the way I was brought up. My mother and father, if my memory serves me right, never really gave me impressionable advice on how to live my life. It was always something about what I did wrong, or what they did wrong, or how not to live my life. Don't point at strangers, don't use that bowl to microwave food, and don't ever get married. And maybe that's why that is the way I see things, I am always accustomed to seeing things in contradiction, my moral compass consisting of a giant list of double negatives.
lol. I chuckle at my own words. I admire my own phrasing. One positive thing about myself that I'm quite happy to admit is that I'm funny. Another positive thing is the fact that I'm good at writing - at least for my own entertainment. Sad, I know, but how often have you gone back to read your own written words and found it entertaining, huh?
Oh, Michael. Too often you look at yourself like you're another person, whenever you get depressed or high or tired or drunk.
Is it a coping strategy? I think so.
Is it weird? I think so.
Should I stop? I think so.
I have an aversion to sleep - although, nowadays, I often pass out on my bed anyway - something I didn't do before. Back in my heyday, around four, five, six years ago, I would go on living with around only five hours of sleep per week. I loved to stay up late, I felt so great having so much time to play pointless online games (after completing all of my homework, of course), and read stuff online.
Now, I feel like my quota for time spent awake is finally running low. I can't help but to fall asleep, sometimes at the most obscure and inconvenient times - right before a lecture, right before a party, right before the sun comes up, right before lunchtime. I'm trying to stay awake, and when my mind can't take it any longer, it compels me to draw the curtains shut, turn the lights off, and simply catch some desperately needed rest, whether or not I have somewhere to be in a few hours, regardless of whether or not I believe I'm going to be able to get up later or not. My case is serious, because I will really throw away all of my obligations and responsibilities—my classes, my family time, my job—just to stay in bed another five minutes longer, ten minutes longer, oops, what time is it?... eight hours have gone by?... I'm screwed, might as well go back to sleep... ZZZzzzzzz.........
Honestly, I have Googled ways to increase insomnic ability. It's a little bit sad, and that's right, I call it an ability. Because if I could just push through another few hours without rest each day, I would be able to do so much more. The pile of things I wish I could tend to gets taller and taller everyday, and at an exponential rate. I've been warned before, about how it's bad for my skin, and bad for my eyes, and bad for my brain to stay awake over overly long hours of the day, but I don't care. I want to sleep less. It's only because I used to be the best at it back in the day that makes me stubborn, and in denial of the fact that I'm not the young man I was a few years ago, capable of doing things that my now tired body cannot.
Sigh.
Damnit, it's 3:20 in the morning, but I've got to write something here. I must write something everyday, anything, any little thing will do. And I must read other people's blogs - at least ten - everyday as well. This no-blogging-because-I-now-have-a-job-with-insane-hours thing is getting on my nerves, and I don't want to be the cause of any distress (albeit, only towards myself).
There has been a lot on my mind lately, but I shall bore you with that next time. Right now, I just want to say that life is pretty routine, and I didn't really want it to be so, as I had just graduated from high school.
Instead of waking up everyday to go to school, coming home late and then going to bed, I now wake up everyday to go to work, come home late and go to bed. It's the same thing. Do you notice that?
Only school doesn't take up fifteen hours of my day.
One hour to get to work, then thirteen hours of work with a three hour break somewhere in the midst of that, then an hour to get back home, followed by one hour of settling down when I get home, and two hours worth of time for me to do useless, unproductive shit on my computer until I fall asleep. So, altogether, that makes...
18 hours, leaving six hours for me to sleep. That is, if I actually do spend only two hours worth of time doing meaningless stuff, and if I also go home straight away after work.
I know all this talk about my new bartending job is boring blog material, for both this blog, and Do you hate it too? I know. I know that. There are bigger topics that I could discuss, but I just don't have the energy, I've been awake for forty hours over the past two days. I also feel a bit nauseous, as we bartenders tend to down a few drinks towards the end of the night just to celebrate another day of work surpassed. I actually don't want to drink - believe me, but my coworkers peerly pressurize me into the celebratory spirit.
Oh. This is now long enough. End.
Just for those of you who are unfamiliar, here's a little summary of my current situation: my parents are divorced and I live with just my maternal grandparents. My father was 'being difficult' last summer in a number of ways, and since July, I haven't seen or spoken to him. He was self-centered, and always moaned about his ex-wives and his boss. Consequently, he was insensitive to my problems. I got sick of him, and that side of my family. He was a waste of my time.
Tonight, on this homework-crammed night, I received a text message from my father that said: "I wanna see you this thursday".
I will see him on Thursday. And I am scared.
In the past year or so, I have gradually become more and more scared of depending on the people who are close to me. This is because, in the past year, I have been greatly disappointed by three people who are very special to me.
One was my best friend. One was a girl. And one was my father.
I think I am partially culpable for my own downfall, but I do hold expectations for certain people because I think giving, sharing and tolerating is what friends and family do for each other. I always take a leap of faith with people because I believe good hearts lie within each of us. Since last year, I've really learned the hard lesson: people aren't always reliable.
But I'm going to see my father with a open heart because I think it is the mature thing to do. I'm going because we are connected by blood. (I am always amazed by how well he and my mother know me so well without the formalities of actually learning about each other that exist with friends.) I'm going because I believe I got angry over something silly, because I reckon I lost my respect for him too quickly in a rush of emotion. And I'm going because shooting some snooker and downing shots of Jack Daniel's has always been fun. With him.
On the other hand, I am scared that he will still be irresponsible, and irrational, self-involved and arrogant. I am scared that by having him in my presence, the negative traits which he has passed on to me by blood will emanate out of me despite my constant internal repression. I am scared that I will have to go through losing him all over again if I get impatient with his cocky personality one night after a taxing day at school. And I am scared that he will distract me, have an impact on my grades, and affect my future.
My fellow bloggers, tell me the sun will shine, please.
Please tell me I don't have to be scared.
Please tell me I'll be fine.
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