This semester was pretty hard. I was taking 17th Century Poetry (Sex, Death & Salvation) Post Secular / Post Modern Sacred literature and The Works of William Blake.
Unfortunately my 17th century professor, a John Donne scholar decided to use her course as a soap box to spend the entire class preaching about the superiority of the 17th century Christian faith and philosophy over our depressed post modern era. For proof she used the writings of a series of writers done almost exclusively by gay men dying of AIDS during the 1980s. So to say her arguments were fairly biased is an understatement. She was more interested in going on and on about the superior point of view possessed by Donne and his compatriots than she was actually discussing the literary aspects of the 17th century poetry. It was very frustrating. She also showed herself to be criminally ignorant of other religion's point of views and openly scornful of them. Which, as someone who has followed alternate faiths, is something I found hard to stomach.
The other classes weren't bad but I ended up writing about 53 pages of term papers and take home finals for 3 course in the span of 8 days because I'm one of those people who CAN'T seem to work on a writing project until just before the deadline.
Unfortunately my 17th century professor, a John Donne scholar decided to use her course as a soap box to spend the entire class preaching about the superiority of the 17th century Christian faith and philosophy over our depressed post modern era. For proof she used the writings of a series of writers done almost exclusively by gay men dying of AIDS during the 1980s. So to say her arguments were fairly biased is an understatement. She was more interested in going on and on about the superior point of view possessed by Donne and his compatriots than she was actually discussing the literary aspects of the 17th century poetry. It was very frustrating. She also showed herself to be criminally ignorant of other religion's point of views and openly scornful of them. Which, as someone who has followed alternate faiths, is something I found hard to stomach.
The other classes weren't bad but I ended up writing about 53 pages of term papers and take home finals for 3 course in the span of 8 days because I'm one of those people who CAN'T seem to work on a writing project until just before the deadline.
Well my memorial piece in honor of my wife is finished. The picture quality is a little lower than I'd want it to be, but it is now in vibrant color.
I haven't really been able to think of anything to say lately. I've just been getting along. Things have been decent and should be getting better soon.
I've been accepted to college and my student loans should post soon which means I'll be back in classes soon. We'll see if I manage this semester better than I managed the last one. I'll be doing my best. Not sure what I'm going to do with my Masters once I have it, but it'll be interesting to have at least.
I've been accepted to college and my student loans should post soon which means I'll be back in classes soon. We'll see if I manage this semester better than I managed the last one. I'll be doing my best. Not sure what I'm going to do with my Masters once I have it, but it'll be interesting to have at least.
Today is a very bad day. I've been trying to post positive memories of my wife, trying to celebrate her life... but it's not working. I'm just growing more and more depressed every minute I'm awake. It's been 6 months, 6 months exactly in 6 hours and 29 minutes. I don't know how to stay positive. There's a big part of me that just wants to carve a six into my forearm or thigh.... or six tally lines. Just hurt as physically much as I do emotionally right now. It's made worse that half my friends aren't talking to me right now. This is a day when I could really use my friends around.
I've been lucky that I haven't been totally alone, my friend Doug was with me for most of the morning. But now he's left for work and it's just me and the boys.
I've been lucky that I haven't been totally alone, my friend Doug was with me for most of the morning. But now he's left for work and it's just me and the boys.
So I've come to realize I can't trust my feelings on things right now. I went into shock when Blythe died and it's just now starting to wear off and some major grieving is going on. I've come to realize that I may well have been mistaking my feelings of friendship towards some people as more romantic feelings, a subconscious attempt to fill the void in my life. Because of this I've put pressure on people that I shouldn't have because of a misguided need to redefine my relationships. I've screwed up pretty solidly and that person isn't talking to me right now. I don't blame her.
A lengthy conversation with a friend has made me grasp just how badly the grief has been affecting me. A lot of my interests are waining. I used to be a several novels a week reader, lately I go days if not weeks without opening a book. I haven't written on my novel since Blythe hurt her knee and I have gotten to the point where this blog is the only type of journaling I can maintain. Spending time with my friends is the only thing that brings me close to contentment. Even spending time with my boys can be draining because they're both so far from self-sufficient and need so much looking after.
This same friend has pointed out that I might be subconsciously testing my friends. Shaking the friendships to see if they're going to last. That's made me realize that I'm terrified of losing my friends, to death, disaster or just my own stupid problems. Yet this same fear is making me push at them. It was a shocking revelation to realize that because I've never been the sort to manipulate friendships before. I feel a deep sense of shame to think that I might be testing my friendships. They don't deserve my doubt and suspicions. They don't deserve the paranoia that is so rampant when my medications aren't working properly. Yet I've subjected them to both.
I don't know how to figure out what I enjoy or want out of life. I'm struggling with being a student still, unsure if I want to continue on. I don't want to just abandon my education, but the thrill of learning has definitely ebbed on me. I used to think I wanted to be a teacher, but now that occupation feels hellish to even contemplate. There's a part of me that misses human service. Missing working with challenged teens and being the voice of discipline and reason in their lives. But even contemplating going back to work causes the desire to self-harm and suicide to go through the roof. I'm just not ready yet. Spending time with my friends is literally the only thing in my life that I can still say gives me pleasure. And I can't even do that very often because of their work schedules and my having to take care of my children. I can't join in on their trips to Ithaca or Syracuse, I can't go with them to the movies. I'm left behind at home because my children are too high maintenance to spend time with. Such is life.
A lengthy conversation with a friend has made me grasp just how badly the grief has been affecting me. A lot of my interests are waining. I used to be a several novels a week reader, lately I go days if not weeks without opening a book. I haven't written on my novel since Blythe hurt her knee and I have gotten to the point where this blog is the only type of journaling I can maintain. Spending time with my friends is the only thing that brings me close to contentment. Even spending time with my boys can be draining because they're both so far from self-sufficient and need so much looking after.
This same friend has pointed out that I might be subconsciously testing my friends. Shaking the friendships to see if they're going to last. That's made me realize that I'm terrified of losing my friends, to death, disaster or just my own stupid problems. Yet this same fear is making me push at them. It was a shocking revelation to realize that because I've never been the sort to manipulate friendships before. I feel a deep sense of shame to think that I might be testing my friendships. They don't deserve my doubt and suspicions. They don't deserve the paranoia that is so rampant when my medications aren't working properly. Yet I've subjected them to both.
I don't know how to figure out what I enjoy or want out of life. I'm struggling with being a student still, unsure if I want to continue on. I don't want to just abandon my education, but the thrill of learning has definitely ebbed on me. I used to think I wanted to be a teacher, but now that occupation feels hellish to even contemplate. There's a part of me that misses human service. Missing working with challenged teens and being the voice of discipline and reason in their lives. But even contemplating going back to work causes the desire to self-harm and suicide to go through the roof. I'm just not ready yet. Spending time with my friends is literally the only thing in my life that I can still say gives me pleasure. And I can't even do that very often because of their work schedules and my having to take care of my children. I can't join in on their trips to Ithaca or Syracuse, I can't go with them to the movies. I'm left behind at home because my children are too high maintenance to spend time with. Such is life.
