Throughout my past couple of entries, I keep expressing a concern for self-control. I’m worried about how I’m spending my time, about who I’m spending that time with, and about what kind of person I’m becoming. Above all, I’m worried about the state of my writing. I’m worried that it’s decaying while I spend my […]
I told my therapist a list of things I want to do the other day. The list included writing more, trying to get published, fixing a medical issue once and for all, and organizing a Creative Writing class reunion. She said that I was repeating myself. I had told her that I wanted to do […]
These past few days, I’ve been feeling very stressed. When I look at my calendar, I realize that my schedule is jam-packed with social activities. This weekend, I’ll be going hiking in New Hampshire with my boyfriend and his friends. Next week, I have a dinner at a friend’s apartment, karaoke with my boyfriend and his […]
If she doesn’t respond to my invite out and it’s already been a few days, does that mean she secretly hates me and doesn’t want to be my friend? She’s ignored my texts before. Is she just a bad texter or is this all on purpose? Maybe I should try messaging her again? Would a […]
Walking over to the McNally Jackson bookstore in Soho on a Thursday night, I was already getting nervous. I was assigned by my professor to go to this reading event, Future Sex by Emily Witt, with some of my classmates. He challenged us to try to mingle with the crowd there together, to help each other if any of us got shy. After all, as aspiring writers, it was important for our careers to start interacting with the literary sphere. But as an anxiety-prone girl who was already regretting wearing her high-heeled boots in cobblestoned Soho, who was already aware of strangers who might catch sight of her stumbles, who was already dreading the implications of the word “mingle,” I decided that this was an impossible task.
I’m feeling stressed. You know that kind of stressed where you feel too paralyzed to do much else? I’m that right now.
A few minutes ago I walked into my school’s library to read Ethics by Spinoza for class. It’s part of the source of my stress, but it’s definitely not the whole cause. I couldn’t understand a word of it without rereading the same sentence twenty times. Spinoza is either crazy or a genius. He talks about God and life in mathematical formulas. I’m not a math person so he reads to me like Crazy. I don’t like reading Spinoza, I don’t get Spinoza, but I felt particularly stuck today. Continue reading My stress countdown
This past September, my professor asked our small class of 15 students how our day was. As this was a Creative Writing class at NYU, his question was seen as an open invitation to rant. One student shared that she was harassed by a homeless man in the middle of Starbucks. Another said that a stranger threw a cup of water at her on the subway. A third mentioned that she was having a horrible day because due to a panic attack, she had to drop classes and become a part-time student. I could definitely relate to the first two stories–as an NYC resident, it’s almost impossible to avoid a crazy encounter–but the third struck me the most. I remembered that was my exact situation about two years ago.
In the Spring of 2014, I had returned to NYU from a year-long medical leave during which I was struggling with my anxiety and depression issues. I was eager…
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