2004-01-29
A lethargic state
I have, for many reasons put off writing in this diary of mine for the past few days. This is mainly due to my own apathy toward systematically writing down my daily instances, but dearest reader, I must yield to current necessities and once more write down my grievances. Never before have I been so disappointed in myself, never before have I been so powerless as to what has occurred around me, and never before has such a feeling of anguish and remorse consumed me. I feel awful, and I feel like the most vile and lethargic creature on this earth--I have a �C� in English class (much to the teacher�s disappointment, which, she cannot hide). It is not my fault, and neither is it anyone else�s, but ultimately, I must be the one to sole this problem. I must find a way to once again show my capabilities as a student. I am opposed to overachieving, but when I show such infidelity and disrespect for the love of my life (literature), then I have certainly gone too far--only a duel can remedy this.
Tomorrow is the day when I find out whether or not I am worthy enough to take a seat in next year�s AP English Literature and Composition course. I am not anticipating anything, and thus, I am even preparing myself for eventual disappointment (which, has hitherto been the recurring theme of my life). Vin asked me the other day what it is that I wrote in regards to Abigail Williams and The Crucible. Basically, I said that Abigail Williams stood for Salem�s Theocracy, while John Proctor stood for what was just, and not only that, but he represented Salem�s unconventionality. There is more to it, and my paper is quite lengthy, therefore, I will not even try to re-write my viewpoint--it was already painful enough to produce the damned thing, much less repeat it.
I found a new website on Soren Kierkegaard, which I am absolutely fascinated with (actually, I am just fascinated by him). Of course, I am a fan of existentialism, but I consider myself atheist-existentialist, as opposed to Kierkegaards pre-existentialist viewpoint. However, it is undeniable that Nietzche would build off of Kierkegaard. Once more I begin to question my intellectual abilities, and come to the sad conclusion that I have none. I will forever be the person longing to be an erudite, which will forever be a trait denied me. I suddenly got the urge to work on my book, but the urge soon went away after looking at the overwhelming amount of workload that lay at my feet.
I feel so helpless! I felt as if I were back in my freshman English class with that overly-critical teacher. For some reason, I could never write for her--the words would never flow out. She hated my style, and every time that she would return my papers, they would be flooded with red ink from her �correcting� pen. I can only imagine the type of writer she deems me. I understand that she has this certain notion of literature in which everything has to conform to a standard (preferably hers). My work of course, was much too odd. She was especially bothered by my �odd usage� of words. At times, I do convey my emotions rather strangely, but I ardently believe that it is a symbol of my self-expression, which is something inalienable to me. No English teacher can deny me that, and besides, no one liked Walden when it first came out. I am, as they say, an acquired taste.