theexistentialstudentblog-blog

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So, who stole the time machine and reversed the cancellation??

I’m not naming anyone, but…

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Struggling

This isn’t even an existential crisis anymore. It’s just a crisis! I’m failing uni and I can’t stop it. I’ve had another tutorial, 2 months after the previous one completely wrecked me and I ended up having a huge panic attack and a month off uni.. and i’ve not been the same since.

Last week my lecturer actually asked me “Why haven’t you been attending, what could POSSIBLY be more important than being here?” My other lecturer was there too, going all “hmm, yeah Maria?” (She’s lovely, the only one so far who’s given a damn about how I am actually doing, but he’s very pushy and i think she’s probably too scared not to agree with him). So yeah, I just sorta, broke down. A little. But as soon as the wobbly voice and tears came, dude was out of his chair quicker than I could say “I”. Like seriously, I said “I just...” and he stood up, said “right, okay” and basically ended to tutorial then and there. Lol. Perhaps he is not good with emotion. I’m not either so I can’t blame him. The other day my colleague was crying and work and I asked her “are you okay..” clearly she wasn’t.. then I went “sorry I will leave you alone” and got outta there. So I’m guessing he might be the same.. STILL, as a lecturer, you’d expect him to at least try and listen, lend a comforting ear? I stopped blubbering almost as quickly as I started. Sheer embarrassment, I told myself I wasn’t gonna cry, so i stopped myself.

Anyway, I’m not even going to go into all the details. Too long and boring and frankly, will probably cause me to tailspin again. I’m on the verge of another crisis, I know I am. A breakdown. I feel it. I have three days until my deadline but it’s going to be the longest damn three days I’ll ever experience. 

My life is a little nuts at the mo, clearly, but let’s just see what happens. I want to pass, because it’d be nice to finally pass a module. I want to progress into third year, so, let’s do this! Going to the doctors tomorrow, am certainly going to ask them for a little pick me up, I’ve never been on diazepam before (not that I’ve never done it though), but I’d like to give it a whirl, because honestly I can’t imagine being able to stomach another tutorial (Tuesday), without something to help ease this damn anxiety. Been practically living off codeine the past few days. Realised I’m taking way too much for it to be “recreational” and one thing I do NOT want to add to my long list of issues is “drug addiction” so gonna try and steer away from that stuff at the mo. Use it for it’s intended use- my back pain. 

I would say wish me luck, but I’m not even reaching out to anybody, it’s simply a rant to let go of this self-anger before it consumes me. Here goes nothing, I guess!

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Time

I feel like I am acutely aware of time these days. I mean we all get those days where we watch the clock continuously. Perhaps we’re anxious about waking up for our daily responsibilities the following morning, and subsequently find ourselves pondering the time, staring at the alarm clock (or in most of our cases, switching our phone’s on to check the time). This is pretty normal. I do it often myself; I feel as though my alarm might not sound, or I forgot to turn it on. (If you knew me, you’d realise how likely of a prospect that is). So I find myself tossing and turning and constantly checking the time on my phone. Usually it’s still early in the night and I literally have nothing to worry about, but when we have important things on our agenda- it’s pretty normal to be on our toes a little more!

Then there’s the usual time checking when we’re at work, school, or wherever. We are wishing the minutes, hours etc to pass, craving the sweet relief of comfortable clothes, TV, and bed. Again, it’s pretty normal.

For some reason, though, I feel like my awareness of time has gradually grown way out of proportion, and has become somewhat of an annoyance! It’s making time drag so much more, because all I ever do is wonder. At work is where I have it the worst; I check the clock constantly. I know people who strive to stay away from the clock as long as possible, rightly realising that time seems to go slower if you’re eyeing the clock all day. But for some reason I can’t stay away. My mind goes something like this;

“Okay. It’s a six hour shift. So I have a half hour break, which means 5 and a half hours of actual labour and I’m free. If I have my break after three and a half hours, I only have two hours to go until home time.” Blah blah. My mind will work out shift times and hours, when to have my break so that I am working for as long as I can possibly handle until my legs are close to giving out and I have to finally take my break. (may seem like a slight over exaggeration, but the pain I get in my entire body just by standing for a couple of hours is actually getting ridiculous, I feel like a 90 year old woman). So it’s a pretty accurate account. And then I find myself walking back and forth to the till points to check the time. 

“Well it’s been an hour now, which means I have roughly two and a half hours till my allocated break... maybe I can hold out for three hours? If not, at least that half hour before my break will go quickly, because I’ll be excited to go on my break. Maybe I can even sneak down a little earlier, so that half hour after my three hours might actually be 20-25 minutes.” Jheeze. What am I like? My shifts can vary, too. Some days I’m doing jobs like keeping an eye on fitting rooms, which means time feels very slow but I also like the silence of the fitting rooms, being able to collect my thoughts and not feeling like I have to be doing something every second in case I take a breath and get caught “doing nothing”. (My mind works like this, go figure!) But some days I am doing what I love, merchandising, making things looks great! Those shifts can go very fast. Sundays, too, since we close an hour after I arrive and my shift is only four hours. Those days, my mind can work out time more effectively, I guess!

“Okay so there’s one hour until the store closes. But in 45 minutes I’ll hear the store announcement that the door will be shutting soon, and those 15 minutes don’t count ‘cause they go fast and you stand around talking while you wait for people to leave.” Not that I do that, I usually carry on working if I’m focused on a specific area, but my brain still assumes those 15 minutes are nothing). “Now I have three hours left. In an hour, two people go home. In two hours, there will only be me and one person on this floor. That’s less pressure. That hour will go quickly because I can relax a bit and sit down, maybe sort out clearance”. 

Yep, I pretty much plan my entire day at work down. Although, you’re probably assuming I must really not like going to work. That’s not strictly true. The people there are very good to me and although I don’t fit in with the staff as much as I did in my old store, I still feel comfortable around them. We all do our jobs, but take the time to have the odd bit of banter (barring a few people of course!) But yeah, it’s nothing to do with the job in itself. Because, apart from not being paid for the past two months due to technical reasons (also not their fault), I am enjoying it. Soo, it’s probably just me and my brain. Because I get it with University, also. Oh heck, I get it often, there.

I don’t really need to bore you with the workings of my inner mind, with that one. The truth simply is, I just want time to pass, as soon as freaking possible. People are great, way better than my previous years (although I miss my best friend from uni loads!) But I can’t deal with the constant battle to want to be at home. Like I genuinely do less at uni than I do anywhere else, because I can’t do anything when I am around other people. That really has to change but that’s whole other ballpark. Point is, my awareness of time, and constant need to know what point in the day it is, is very disconcerting. Anybody else have this? Getting tired of waking up six times a night having a mini (and the odd full blown) panic attack, thinking it’s later than it is and that I have miss work or uni. (Okay, work, because missing uni isn’t exactly a new or strange.. or rare.. occurrence for me, haha!) 

But yep. That’s me and my completely random and off-topic blog post about my unrelenting desire to know the exact time... at all times. So i’ll lie here now, at 42 minutes past midnight, attempting to work out how many hours sleep I will get if I go to sleep within the next hour (of course, that’s never going to happen)... so that’ll be fun! This was just a random off topic post because my mind is running at a pace I cannot keep up with and I decided to write my thoughts down in the form of a blog post to settle them- as well as to create more cringe-worthy moments for me to look back on in the future and cry with embarrassment as I realise I opened up to the internet about random shit nobody cares about.. woohoo! 

Good night and happy blogging! Lest we forget that time is passing by at a marginal speed and some day (which seems like an eternity away but will approach us very fast) we will all be dead and this post, and every post we’ve ever written- word we’ve ever wrote or spoken, will be forgotten and lost in time until we and all traces of us have been wiped off of the face of the earth completely! 

(I apologise if you didn’t gather from my username that I am filled with existential dread with a hint of nihilism.. but I also call myself a Christian so maybe I’m just a whole new breed, lmao). 

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If “mean girls” was real life

If you’re like me, you’d have watched mean girls, and so many other films like it. As a teenager, I used to love watching those American ‘high school’ films, you know, where the ‘outcasts’ become popular, or somehow beat the popular kids. The typical, lonely kid who is a social outcast meets a bully or a few bullies but breaks down the barriers and outs the popular people as fakes and bullies to the whole school, ultimately becoming prom queen and making the school a better place- all while getting the ‘boy’ (this is if the central character is a female like mean girls, but obviously some have been male characters as the ‘outcast’).. but yeah.. not how it goes in real life.

In real life? You spend your whole time there trying to fit in. You’re treated as an outcast because you look different, act different. In real life, the ‘unpopular’ kids don’t look like Lindsey Lohan. It makes sense that we are outcasts. I’m not saying those who have been bullied or treated badly are ugly. I’d never imply that, ever. But, let’s be honest- in every one of those films, the main character/s are hot. If it’s a female, they’re unrealistically beautiful, and as a male, they’re always good looking. In the real world, we have imperfections. We’re short, tall, thin, fat. We have spots, we have scars. We look like chavs, emo’s, wannabe’s. We try too hard, we don’t try enough. We stutter, we cry, we’re too sensitive, we’re too confident, too shy. There’s always something that makes us imperfect. And that’s what the ‘mean girls’ (or guys), pick on.

This isn’t the movies. We don’t magically meet our prince/princess, and beat the bullies. Humanity isn’t that kind. They don’t suddenly think; “oh, those popular kids are mean, we want nice people to run the school!”. No, it doesn’t work like that. The popular are popular for a reason- because they’re confident. They are, or seem to be, happy with themselves. People don’t magically decide to see through their fakeness- they know they’re fake, that they’re mean, that’s the reason they’re popular. 

This isn’t a spoiled popular girl wannabe rant. I’m a student at university, and i’m finishing next year. I have no desire to be one of those people. In fact, luckily, we don’t really have those social groups in the class I am in, not this year. Not that I attend many of my lectures, but the times I have been in, I’ve noticed they’re like a family, and popular/outcasts don’t really exist. So no, I’m not ranting for myself now, but for myself in the past, and for every person who is, or ever has been, in that situation. Where they’re picked on because they’re different. People who are ostracised for being kind and not wanting to hurt others physically or emotionally. 

This isn’t the movies. As much as I’d love to watch those types of things as a teenager, I’ve realised how fake they really are. How, for much of my school life, I was somehow hoping I was pretty, deep down, and that some guy would see that. I’m not really, and never have been, interested in dating as such- but those movies make you feel like it’s what has to be done. Meet a guy, re-invent yourself so you’re nice looking, stand up to the bullies- and suddenly everybody will be rooting for you. Wasted my entire school life, hoping, trying, to change people- change myself. 

All I can say is be you. Don’t hope for your life to fix itself, because, yes, maybe some outcasts, in real life, have gone on to become great. I 100% believe that anybody can be somebody, but not by letting life pass you by, expecting good things to just happen. Don’t lose yourself in the movies and shows that give you false hope. But at the same time, don’t let it take away all your hope. Sure, they may cast actors that seem perfect, and unbelievable/unrealistic, but that’s just how film making works. It’ll never change. But don’t let that take away your desire to be something/somebody amazing. You can make your own path in life. I let mine slip away from me, until I became somebody I didn’t recognise. I became down on myself because I couldn’t beat the system, I got screwed up and chewed up and then spit back out. But at least I can see the truth now, and I can do something about it. Now it’s your turn. 

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send in some anons 

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Pulling myself together

You know what’s funny? I’ve pulled myself out of the hole many times. I’ve pulled myself away from the edge. Without help, without support. Back when I started feeling down and depressed, I’d seek attention. Write depressing things, say things, try to get my parents and friends attention. But I never took their support. I’d always quickly change my mind and make up stories about what I’ve said or done. “Yeah I’m okay was just a bad day!” “Nope I like wearing long sleeves in summer, there’s nothing wrong with me don’t worry!”. I could easily have just said “I need help”. I mean, my parents are the supportive type. My sister deals with anxiety and depression and they support her 100%. They aren’t those parents who don’t believe in mental health. I’m lucky. But I don’t accept it. I try to hide everything from them. 

That’s where I come in. I have to support myself so I have to keep myself going. And I do. I remember back in the days where I’d stockpile pills, but I ended up throwing them away- flushing them down the toilet. The crazy thing is, the next day my Mum tidied my room and tidied exactly where I hid the box of pills. If I hadn’t have thrown them away that day, my Mother would have found them. I took it as a sign. Somebody out there was sparing me from the heartache of having to explain to my parents why I have a box will a ton of pills and razors, too. For a while I sorted myself out. But, as with everything when you’re on your own- I fell again. I re-started the cycle of hurting myself and writing negative things. I came on tumblr and allowed myself to be sucked into the glamorising of mental illness. I come on now and see the same thing happening, to people like me. Young people sharing posts, making out like self harm is beautiful, like depression is beautiful. It saddens me, because I feel like without the internet, I may have handled all of this differently.

Nowadays, I am more aware of myself. I don’t really repost things, I don’t allow myself to be “triggered” by things. It’s a hole that’s very difficult to dig yourself out of. Sure, you feel not alone, you feel a part of something. But it’s not good to isolate yourself from people, using the internet to spread your pain. I’m using it now, for good, to blog my experiences. I believe this is helping me, I am a big believer in the power of expression. Writing a blog is a no for me, not one so personal, because I like to keep myself to myself. That’s why I like writing a sort of ‘diary’ on tumblr. Nobody knows me, and nobody cares. But I can pretend they do. I can pretend it’s a blog, without people I know judging me and knowing my business. It’s nice to get my feelings down. 

Why did I even write this? I have no idea. I think my point was that I’ve been alone for so long now that I don’t know how to ask for help. My doctor asked me if the meds are working, how my mood is etc. And every time, I say i’m fine. Maybe I should just accept I can’t get help, because I’m too scared to open up. My parents have enough to deal with, with my sister, so that’s talking to them down the drain. But, I guess I can do it. I’ve done it before. I flushed those pills down the toilet. I got clean from hurting myself for two years, and I can do it again. I’m okay. I got this.

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reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

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I am well and truly fucked. I’ve come to realise this lately. You ever feel like, or in fact, know, you’re fucking up your life? You’re watching it in slow motion, a car crash that you can’t prevent, but just watch. Eventually you’re gonna crash, and there’s nothing you can do. You’re going to be badly hurt, you might even die. It’s gonna be a long recovery, if you recover at all. That’s me right now. I’m watching my own crash, I’m watching myself, in slow motion, hit a wall. I can’t hit the breaks, turn around, I’m shell-shocked, frozen. Just waiting for inevitable pain, or death. Do I even care? Seems not.

I’m letting it happen, and I don’t want to, but I just can’t stop. It’s not like I can even say that I am trying, because I’m not. I’ve given up trying. I’m letting Jesus take the wheel, because I’m too damn lazy to sort it out myself. Laziness. That’s what it comes down to. Depression? Sure. Despair? Yup! But honestly, I can’t keep blaming these things, it’s laziness. Can I really not make myself get out of bed and face the day? It’s just a shower, it’s not a walk up a mountain. It’s just work, I’m not going to jail. So why is every little task so difficult? Why does everything seem so unattainable? Why can’t I accomplish the smallest thing? I’ve got the talent to do what I want to do, but I have no energy to do it. I’m weeks behind on my work, and every time I plan to do it, I find a reason not to. 

I’m being seen as unreliable at work, because I have been turning up late, or not at all. Excuses like “I was in hospital” “I got robbed” “my Dad was in hospital” “I’m not well”... seriously? How many excuses can I come up with? And then I feel awful for lying. What if something serious did happen to my Dad? It would be all my fault. What if I actually get unwell and I have to go in because I’ve cried wolf too many times? (This did actually happen, i’ve had to suffer working with a painful chest infection because i’d taken time off for another ‘illness’). What if they find out I lied about being robbed? It was stupid to act like I couldn’t get to work, like I couldn’t find a measly £4 to pay for bus fair. What am I supposed to say? Sorry I can’t come in because I’m suicidal? Because every time I look at the train I imagine myself caught up in it’s wheels, and then, nothing? Sorry, my mental health is acting up? It’s virtually impossible to tell the truth. The truth isn’t valid, mental health, isn’t a valid excuse. Not for work, not for uni. I don’t mean it shouldn’t be, but it isn’t. That’s not the way the world works, if you’re physically well, you’re expected to be in work. That’s why I have to lie, and why I get so anxious and upset- knowing I could be just one lie away from being found out, losing my job, failing my course at uni, becoming a nobody or even more of one. At work, I spend regular intervals running off to the toilet to try and have a break from it all. Hoping when I return, nobody realises I was gone. I left early the other day, didn’t even get my bag or coat, just walked out and went home, collected my stuff the next day. Maybe they noticed, maybe they are beginning to realise I’m unreliable. Well, there’s no maybe about it, they’ve already expressed concern (for them, rather than me), about me not turning up to all my shifts because of “confusion” or excuses. Dunno how much longer I can take. I need the money, and something to get me out of this room every now and again, but the anxiety before and during is too much.

My point is, I’m trying to think of so many excuses all the time, for me not participating in life. Watching myself crash, not doing anything to stop it. Laziness. I know, KNOW I can force myself to get up, get dressed, shower, go into uni or work. Slap on a fake smile, do my job, and do it well. But I stop myself. I make myself sick with worry and then I learn it was never as bad as I thought- only to do it all over again the next day. It’s no way to live. I’m trying. But i’m still watching that car crash, and I’m the one driving, but I can’t stop.

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We talk about fat shaming and gender shaming. I have one I’d like to bring up. White shaming.

No, I’m not being sarcastic.

As a white male, I am humiliated every day by things other people do or have done. I’m shamed for being sexually aroused by women. I’m made to feel guilty and ashamed about slavery and civil rights. About job equality and sexual orientation.

I understand that in the past men who had the same color skin as I do enslaved other people based on the color of their skin and then tried to justify it based on rudimentary and false sciences. I also understand that it was wrong, and no. To this day, I have enslaved “0” people.

I understand that other men may be sexually and romantically aroused by other men, and likewise for women. I also understand that this is completely natural and also none of my business. I’d thank you to respect my sexual preference as well.

I understand that someone is “non-binary” and classifies themselves with a different gender. Good for you. Frankly, it’s none of my business.

I understand that women are women and deserve equal pay. Of course they do! Equal pay for equal work. It needs to be fixed.

Of course there are things we need to fix. But please, don’t blame me, someone who has never done a thing to harm another person on purpose.

Please don’t shame me because I was born white.

Let’s please break away from the mob-mentality of our generation. Let’s move away from the digital veil we can hide behind. Because sometimes we forget that the people we are addressing are just that, other people. Other human beings. With the same anxieties, stresses, worries, and feelings that you have. This goes for not only the white shaming, but for everyone.

Let’s please just learn to respect one another. I respect your choices, please respect mine.

Next time, before you share something with the intention of shaming someone for anything, remember me. Nathan. A white, 18 year old boy. Struggling to get through community college. With a girlfriend of 3 years. Without any idea of what I want to do. I’m an actor. I love to sing. To dance, rather poorly, I might add. I love history, I might want to major in it. I have three parents. A dad, a step mom, and my biological mother. I love all three. They all support me and I couldn’t be luckier. I’ve got five siblings. I have many Muslim friends and many Christian friends. I want nothing more than people to get along and love each other. At the very least, respect one another. Is that too hard?

I know that I will get backlash from this. Of course I will. But. At least, thank you for reading.

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The racism card

I’m getting real tired of people constantly making out like every little thing is racist. Like I was looking at the new ironfist series coming out on netflix, and everybody seems to be moaning that he is a “white saviour” so basically complaining that an asian-american wasn’t cast for the show. Apparently the main guy being white but training within a different culture is making it seem like white people trump all others. That’s not the way I view it.

Like so what if they cast a white guy? I don’t complain when a predominantly white cast use a black character as the main person? Why would I? Who cares the colour of the actors or characters? People like to cry racism at everything these days and it makes me nervous to even speak my mind. I had this friend who would constantly make little wise cracks about my colour, using stereotypes to undermine me. “White people can’t dance” “white people are dumb” “only white people would think that” etc. Like okay it’s funny occasionally, but when it’s all the time, it gets ridiculous. How is it okay to be discriminative to me because of my colour, but I have to keep my mouth shut? I’d never, in a million years, even consider being racist. I don’t understand it. Everybody should be treated equally regardless of their race, religion, gender, or sexuality. It’s a shit ass world we live in when people have to resort to being unkind due to any of these factors. There’s also the whole playing the victim card.

My point is, please stop making me feel bad for being white. there is no such thing as reverse racism, because it’s just racism, pure and simple, no matter what race you’re targeting. On the other hand, there is such thing as being over the top. Playing the victim. Stop playing the racism card when somebody is off with you and they are a different colour than you. It could be any number of reasons for their behavior. If an actor is cast in something, perhaps the writers weren’t thinking “ha let’s cast a white person because white people are the best and more superior”. Maybe they were simply picking an actor they liked and thought could do the damn job. Look around you, there’s so much more going on in the world, and trying to find more things wrong, that aren’t even there, is just causing shit for no good reason.

Rant over! Be kind, be loving, we were all created equal.

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Sometimes I sleep not because I’m tired but just because I want the day to end.

(via mypenleaksiridescence)

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how did I miss this episode?!

Case number 149-CR 0308, U.S. versus Reid.

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when my mom forced me to go out

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