Motivation & Delusions : 01.27.03 @ 6:53 pm

You might be wondering why I am writing an entry when I should be working on my essay (that needs to be five pages long by 12:45 tomorrow and I only have one page), and I don't think I could answer that one for you - or for myself for that matter. I have all my work spread out on my desk before me, bent and highlighted copies of [Virginia Woolf's] books, my notes, my folder of resources, and various works of literary criticism lie at my feet.
Lately, I've been glad if I could even start such a project. I just have no motivation - it has left me entirely. Even with photography, I find myself sighing and wondering if I'm really good enough to do this as a living? Do I really want to do this as a living? If living is what you could call it. I spend roughly $80 (give or take a few) every two months on film and photo paper. This is when I'm not paying for the dust off, the enlarger, the chemicals, the dark room, etc, etc. My supplies for college will easily rival my room and board cost.

Mum and I have finally made definite plans about Philadelphia. We're going to Philadelphia Friday night, spending the night, and then seeing the exhibit at Drexel (see "bliss") University, and then visiting Arcadia University. We probably could visit Drexel as well, but I really have little desire to go there.

Being the new kid sucks major butt hole. I'm very thankful that we didn't move in the middle of last year. I was such an emotional wreck then that I don't know if I would have been able to survive this move, had it happened last year. I'd end up in some unfriendly mental hospital in the suburbs of DC and that just wouldn't be good. Mainly because I doubt they have a dark room, let alone internet access in those state mental hospitals...
Alana and John have been irking me lately, in the way that I'll say something and they'll correct me and look at me like I'm a complete nut who doesn't know jackshit. I probably am, but I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me to my delusions, thank you very much.
Delusions are nice. How else do you think I manage to survive? I delude myself into thinking that I'm not that ugly, not that fat, not that untalented, not that stupid, not that undesirable. Any motivation I do manage to muster comes directly from my delusions. Delusions that I'm a half way decent human being when really I'm quite selfish - to the point where if I delve too deeply in my personality I hate myself.
Yes, delusions are nice.
Sometimes they border that gray area between truth and total out-right lying to yourself, and those are the best. You can push yourself into believing that all those above things, and they come true in your mind, despite what other people think.
Sometimes I wonder what people think of me when they see me, when I talk to them, when I run around baring my soul to any stranger that pays attention enough to notice that I am indeed, raw and stripped down to my pulsing insides - to what makes me who I am.
But, I am only a delusion, so all they see is what they are capable of comprehending.
All they see is what they want to see, that's all anyone ever sees.
That's all they want to see.

/A
music: Classical Playlist
mood: contemplative

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