I have found that I am incapable of doing anything for myself. That makes me sound like a horribly selfless person, which I'm not. What I mean is, I am not afraid of disappointing myself, so I just do. I'm afraid of disappointing other people, because I'm scared of other people and I want them to like me. However, as I have learned in recent times, I am not a scary person. Every time I try to act scary I come off as a cross between a sad puppy and an angry five year old. And since I unfortunately see myself as that, I'm not afraid of myself because I know that I won't punish myself, so I don't do anything myself wants me to do. Get it? Good, because I don't really either. Let me offer an example.
Yesterday was my half birthday. Yes, half birthdays are completley stupid and have no significance, but yesterday was my fifteen and a half birthday. I turned FIFTEEN POINT FIVE. Which, if you were unaware, means I am now old enough to have a learner's permit in the state of California, which happens to be where I currently reside. I'm younger than most of my friends, so I am currently one of the few who doesn't know how to drive. I had promised myself that on my half birthday I would be ready to take the permit test. I haven't even started driver's ed.
I'm not able to push myself. I'm supposed to have a large portion of my term paper finished tomorrow (in rough draft form) but right now that's total shit. COMPLETE and total shit. And I'm good at writing, right? I like to believe this blog is mildly enjoyable. But my term paper on Lord of the Flies, a book I actually enjoyed, unlike last semester's The Canterbury Tales currently stinks like a steaming pile of giraffe shit. I took artistic license for that last sentence and assumed that giraffe shit smells bed when it steams. Because my essay sure does.
See, but that disappointment scares me because I don't want to disappoint my English teacher, and thus get a bad grade, and thus not get into college. But you see, there's a little voice in the back of my head saying, "It's just a rough draft! She probably won't even check it! Bullshit something!" But I can't. I mean, I can.
I wish I could just read books all the time. I don't like these stupid allegorical analyses of Lord of the Flies. I don't really care. I liked the book, okay? Why do I have to go and over complicate it?
I'm kind of having a neurotic freak out session right now. Just a little bit. Agh.
Happy birthday to Commodore Matthew Perry (NOT the Friends actor), Joseph Pulitzer, Mandy Moore, Haley Joel Osment, Amanda Michalka, and other people who might be considered important in some cultures.
Today is the anniversary of the Titanic setting sail on it's doomed voyage. That's how I feel with this frikken essay.