diary notes #5
august 20th
Writing everyday can make the writing process literally like a shadow in day. I write everyday, and I don't need to spend any extra atom of energy on it. It just comes natural. My daily writing habit isn't even that old yet. Like, I guess, three or four months. Unfortunately I'm a slow writer who can only write in twenty-or-less minute sprints, so I haven't finished an entire novel like King. I'm supposing I've written, I don't know, twenty or thirty thousand? Seeing it, I'm slow as hell.
I switched from analogue long-hand where I handwrote all my words in a notebook to the screen, because my handwriting is freakin indecipherable. My God, it's terrible. It's just bad. I had to try at least four other apps till I finally found Obsidian.
Obsidian is just nice to use. Simple, open-source, and it doesn't have that capitalistic feeling Word has. Using Word ruined me; I hated it. I think I might actually just write in Obsidian as well instead of Word for assignments as well. I haven't got any major writing assignments yet because I'm a pure science student doing my A-levels, and A2 Physics isn't going to make you write an essay with figurative language or whatever.
Anyways, I always go to bed at ten pm, so when I went to bed at two-thirty in the morning yesterday, I knew I was going to have a freakin wreaked sleeping system for the entire week. And guess what? I was right, and it's only day one and I'm having problems with just staying awake.
Oh, shoot. As I was mid-writing some idiot hit the doorbell and through the peephole all Dhaka-ian apartments have, I saw the most ugly fat woman I have seen for some time. Her face just screamed 'I'm a terrible person'. Anyways, I wasn't going to open the door for some stranger, so I didn't open it. She's gone now as my mother opened the door after some time and saw there was no one. Yikes! Did I see a ghost? Nah ... I don't think so.
august 21st
The construction demolition project beside our house is so loud, I can the freakin vibrations on my desk. Yeah. What the hell, man? How can anyone even continue living in Dhaka? Please, wherever you want to go for a vacation, don't come to Dhaka. I'm sure the other parts of Bangladesh are pretty, but not Dhaka. God, not Dhaka.
Anyways, I've been thinking of studying abroad. I have, really three plans for my higher education. Let me introduce you to my study abroad plannings:
- Uni application to France/New Zealand by December this year with my terrible AS results.
- Take the MEXT scholarship, and hope to God I enroll in a university in the quieter regions of Japan.
- Stay in Hell (Dhaka) and go to BRAC (which is a terrible low-funded uni compared to the rest of the world, but state-of-the-art in my country)
I could just kill myself, but I'd rather not. I do not accept defeat and besides suffering makes character. Getting into Europe is one of my biggest goals, but I don't know how I'll get there. We'll see, my dear reader. We shall see.
The construction work is still going on. Damn my ears are hurting. Anyways, (I seriously need to use other words instead of just using 'anyways'), I'm not really worried about the Statement of Purpose (SOP they say; the world doesn't need another acronym!), because I write about half-an-hour everyday, so I'm pretty sure my writing skills are at least a little better than the rest of my competition.
I need to find universities in my first target countries. Ugh. When did life get so difficult? Was it always like this? Maybe it got more difficult when I became truly conscious with a moral compass and whatnot.
august 22nd
I have the SAT tomorrow, God-willing. Strangely, I don't feel anything. When I was young, I used to be so afraid of examinations, of scores and grades, of expectations. I literally used to get extreme anxiety just over some stupid quiz. Looking back it now, all that fear was a damn waste of energy. It served me nothing.
I've taken a more optimistic nihilistic approach to life and its problems, although I do believe in God (yeah, quite a contraction; I know). Feeling like everything is nothing helps me control my fears. I can honestly say not caring anymore helped me kill my anxiety, or at least most of it. It took a long time. Years I think.
Ah, having anxiety reminds me of being young, just right in the beginning of middle school. I was so young! I had a such a young face. I was small, and had a circular face, and everything about me seemed callous. Now, my face is rougher and more rectangular. Ugh, I hate feeling old.
If there really was a fountain of youth, I'd be the first to drink from it. I just ... don't like feeling old. Now, I have damn responsibilities and bigger things to think about than getting all worked up over a stupid quiz. I have back problems now (っ °Д °;)っ.
Please, for the love of God, if your mother or father tells you to sit up straight, please sit up straight. I didn't follow them, and now my back hurts like hell. Back pain is not fun. Even after I started working out, my back still hurts from time to time. I'm still trying to get rid of this stupid debilitating pain. I just hope it goes away, because it's such a pain!
Little children always want to be older. I remember feeling that way before. Old people always want to be younger. I am currently feeling that way. Someone, please tell all the children in the world to cherish their youth; they'll never get it back once it's gone. To enjoy childhood, to do fun things, and play outdoors, instead of just having their eyes glued to a screen like mine. They'll have enough of screens anyways once they get a job and have to work like cubical mice. Well, most of them will. Most people, unfortunately, suffer from not having enough.