#truthproject

I hate being called stupid.

I'm home, but I'm not.

The last time I pulled over, when it was raining so hard that I couldn't see two feet in front of me, was with this dumb kid.

And I wish I could write more about that, but this is still the hardest thing I've ever had to continuously do. But I'm being more honest with myself than I have been for a long time.

I am exhausted and burned out and sometimes I feel like I have nothing else to give. Honestly, I just want to crawl into bed and wake up only when the borsch has finished simmering. I feel pretty dumb the majority of the time I'm at Notre Dame.

And that is so humbling, and if I wasn't so sleep deprived, I would be so much more thankful. Actually, no excuses. I am so lucky to be going to such a beautiful school where the people are just so freaking intelligent. No one said it was going to be easy (actually a lot of people said that college would be easier than SHS...), and it is refreshing to have to work as hard at something as I once did. It's a different kind of work, one that is for me only, a selfish work, but it's work nevertheless. 

I don't it really matters what I do anymore. I've learned my lesson, and I know that I am finite. Giving my all won't be enough at times. But I am so lucky to have this struggle, to have a calc professor who doesn't actually teach, to have a humanities professor who actually reads what I write and pushes me to be focused, to have a chemistry professor who loves what he's doing. 

I just finished my chemistry midterm.

I'm pretty sure that a quarter of it's wrong. But I love it. I absolutely love it. Maybe it's not the love that I feel for chocolate chip oatmeal peanut butter cookies, but holy crap. It is so frustrating because half the stuff we're learning is theory, and there are no right answers, just ones that are more correct. I legitimately don't know what I'm doing on all of the problem sets, and there are these kids who just get it, and it's incredibly humbling. But nevertheless, I love thinking about these small atoms, how nodes somehow come into play in energy states and it's all a little overwhelming. 

It's funny how much I hate actually doing chemistry labs though. I like the thinking part. The doing part is more meh. 

It's 7:10 on a Sunday morning. I'm in PE's study lounge, playing Of Monsters & Men because everyone is asleep, writing a blog post on Saint Augustine because I have more questions than answers, and strangely, not sulking to be up this early because I love being on the other side of morning. Before everyone gets up with their hangovers, bad breath, dry skin.

Augustine says that God is great, that he gives all. Evil is just the diminishment of such good. We are inherently bad, and thus must inherently will and enact to gain forgiveness.

Kierkegaard says that faith is a personal experience, and to have faith you must give up the world, but you know that God is great because of the story of you and God.

Nietzsche says that God is not real, that goodness is what goodness does, and that the religion of Judaism and Christianity perverts the meaning of goodness.

College is hard. I'll be lucky just to pull off a B in my humanities seminar. But as frustrating as it is, it doesn't make me question whether or not I should be a humanities major (The answer will always be no), but it makes me question how much these experiences have troubled these people to the point where they are pushed to creation. I'm here, not sure what to write, not sure what to say, and here they are, going HAM instead of home.

Last night I watched the stars in an auditorium, looking up at the dome ceiling rather than the sky outside because the lights are too bright, too dense to actually see the stars. And how is possible that we are so small. That the galaxy is so great, and the universe so dauntingly empty.

It scares me to death. Not all of the emptiness, all the loneliness out there, but that we don't realize it. We don't realize how everything we can do can amount to nothing. That we sit here, trying, breathing, the hemoglobin not sickling for the lucky ones, and that in comparison to the whole entire universe, me typing with this 15 inch on my lap, none of it matters.

I used to want to make the world better. I had no idea how to do it, but I would spend hours on hours volunteering, hours on hours smiling at everyone who looked up, but that facial contraction, what does it mean in the grand scheme of this small, small galaxy?

Maybe Nietzsche is right. That we're not all born to be good, that some of us are naturally unable to do good, and that in itself, isn't a bad thing. 

I really love the pistachio walnut muffins here.

I used to be disgusted by food like that. Anything with too much white sugar, too much processed flour, too much of the things I considered 'bad.' During my health bend, it wasn't that I wouldn't eat baked goods, it was that I physically couldn't. Last year, I got into this huge fight with my dad about bagels. It is ridiculous in retrospect, but at the time, I was furious. Here I was, always trying to do and be better, pushing myself, pushing myself to try to be healthy, and you give me a fucking bagel with empty calories that screams sugar sugar suGaR. You're always asking me to, demanding me to push push push, and how am I supposed to do that when you're giving me this crap? How am I supposed to do anything that you ask me to? 

Now I'm eating pistachio walnut muffins without a care, pizza too, cheese in my scrambled eggs. Yolo-ing everything, a little because it's tasty, mostly because I don't care. I went on a run yesterday, warm enough for cut off sleeves and shorts and the leaves are changing but I don't think I can anymore. I am too tired to push anymore.