What I didn't tell you is I didn't mean it

I've got to start listening to those quiet, nagging doubts.

So, every time I hear a song that I know (which happens pretty often), as I listen to the lyrics I try to connect them in my head to me, or my friends, or experiences I've had in the past. I know I'm not the only one who does this, because if I was, posting song lyrics in profiles wouldn't be such a hit with the teenagers (apparently a lot of people's shadows are the only ones who walk beside them). While the whole "relate everything to me" thing is totally natural, I think if I was a songwriter I would be a little uncomfortable with the idea. I could just imagine me writing an extremely personal though somewhat ambiguous ballad about having to throw away my favorite pair of shoes and having it misinterpreted and becoming the number one breakup song for preadolescents.

Come tomorrow I'll be gone

You know, I've heard several times that theory that it takes something like seven compliments for someone to emotionally recover from one disparaging comment. I think that entirely depends on whom the insult is coming from. Sam can call me a fat prostitute until he hyperventilates and topples over, and I won't care in the slightest. There are other people who can ruin my afternoon by just being short with me.

A few days ago I completed a laborious psychology project that consisted of a collage and paper that, respectively, represented and explained my personality, bringing the "largely irrelevant 'creativity' outlet assignment" count to eight. My teacher apologized for assigning us yet another collage, and explained that in past years, the collage was instead a survey project, where you were to go around to friends/family/acquaintances and have them list five positive and five negative aspects of your personality. But that was replaced when the omnipotent "they" and some complaining parents decided that being exposed to potential negative personal characteristics was detrimental to a student's mental health.

Honestly, what level of insecurity prohibits you from being able to handle that someone thinks you're a tad lazy, or that your mom calls you disorganized? Isn't it productive and honorable to acknowledge your faults in order to have the opportunity to improve? Would you really rather live in a cloud of pretentious self gratification than bear to hear that the kid you sit next to in English thinks you're a little pretentious? Educational system, you fail me.

The results of my own negative qualities survey: I'm a little judgmental, conservative, opinionated, and mean to boys. And let me tell you, my self esteem is positively shattered.

Though I guess if the assignment had been to list seven positive qualities for every negative one, everything would've been peachy.

Let's forget we're running out of time

So...

LTotW:
- I have no patience for the learning process. More than once is too many times, and not excelling right off the bat is reason enough to be discouraged.
- Quintessential gender stereotypes are proved more and more to me daily.
- Contrary to my belief, people who physically look down their noses at other people actually do exist, and it's just as condescending-looking as the metaphor is condescending-sounding.
- I'm pretty sure I severely underestimate amount of influence I have on other people and their emotions. Which might sound arrogant unless you know that my previous influence assumption was/is "none at all."
- I think at this point my conception of my personality (as far as nice-ness, reserved-ness, friendly-ness, etc... goes) and how I actually come across to others is way different. Which kind of sucks, 'cause I used to have a pretty good grasp on that sort of thing.

Speaking of personality, in psyc I took what I think was the most inaccurate personality assessment ever. Apparently I'm extremely extroverted, seek attention, have problems concentrating and completing projects, and have a wide rebellious streak.

Has anyone else ever had one of those days where, though you feel completely normal, it seems like every two minutes someone is coming up to you and asking in this concerned tone if you're feeling ok, because they think you're looking particularly tired/sickly/detached? Maybe it's just me, and just today, but nevertheless it's really confusing.

You'll sit alone forever if you wait for the right time

I love how it's possible to instantaneously go from having absolutely no obligations to having your responsibilities and deadlines pile up until they're doing an Atlas thing on your shoulders. I've discovered in the last few days that making to-do lists increases my productivity by like 458%, once I get over the fact that to-do lists strike me as incredibly lame.

Perks of an 18th Birthday:
- Cigarettes (I've always wanted cancer)
- Porn (fake sex = maturity. Duh.)
- Lottery Tickets (To prove that I haven't taken statistics)
- Piercings/Tattoos (Considered and rejected, since I like having a home)
- My library card irrevocably expires (I'm actually really sad about that)
- Your friends and family give you really cool gifts

Being right about people gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. Or a steely, satisfied one, depending.

I'm becoming more and more disenchanted with the general concept of psychology. It's all about people trying to connect the same sets of traits to greatly varying and extremely specific sources, most of which can easily be contradicted or reinforced by other extremely specific sources. There are forty different schools of thought as to where memories are stored. I have this mental image of a bunch of psychologists running around stealing each others' notes, stamping different labels on them, and calling it a theory.

The fact that it snowed significantly for the first time on my birthday made me disproportionately happy, considering it resulted in me sliding into a curb and being late for school.

Linda's Current Favorite Books:
- The Great Gatsby
- A Portrait Of the Artist As a Young Man
- Wuthering Heights
- This Side of Paradise
- Demian