zero panzer

I really don’t like Alyson.

I’ve been thinking about it. She’s not just a person I would never want to socialize with outside of the academic setting where I’m into forced contact with her. She’s not just a bad boss. She’s not just a bad supervisor.

She’s all of those things at the same time.

I hate my internship.

I hate the field placement department.

I don’t think my Social Work Practice I professor is qualified.

I don’t really like David Kamnitzer anymore.

My life lacks direction.

That’s not true. It has plenty of direction, I guess. I’m pursuing a degree that I’m supposed to take and use to become a social work professional.

The problem is that I don’t want that.

I don’t like people. I think they’re obnoxious and annoying.

Especially children.

Why doesn’t anyone believe me when I say I know myself?

I know what I like and what I don’t.

I like being alone.

I don’t like children.

I like animals.

I don’t like my fellow students.

Lisa came into Human Behavior class yesterday about ten minutes late and sat right behind me reeking of cigarette smoke.

I feel like I’m not supposed to criticize her behavior at any point ever because she’s a veteran.

I don’t really care that she’s a veteran. I just don’t want people to start getting on my case for being insensitive.

I know I am. You don’t need to tell me. The hard part is making sure other people don’t know it.

More people in the world need to understand the rule of “If your friend shows you something or tells you about something they’re really proud of, you’d better complement the shit out of that thing, even if it sucks, because they’re really proud of it and they’re putting an enormous amount of trust in you by showing it to you or telling you about it.”

I wish the world was more like the good parts of Tumblr.

Hey, universe. Hey people in the world. Stop trying to show me new experiences and hoping that I’ll find that I love something that I won’t.

I don’t have enough emotional capacity for that.

I know I’m depressed.

I don’t want any drugs.

I know what’s causing my depression.

There’s nothing I can do about it right now.

Why is this so hard.

lays

Anyone else get the impression that the only reason Sheldon wants Amy to be his girlfriend is some kind of childish territorialism thing? God, the characterization in this show sucks.

Sidenote, I have a new alias as of yesterday, I think. Kira Hale. I like it.

there’s that parrot you like to argue with

You know something that’s kind of terrible? I think we can all agree that no one’s trying to convince children anymore than they can do anything they put their minds to, that growing up definitely means job security and a good home and a clear future, if that was ever true, but even worse than that was, or still is, the message that by the time you get to be eighteen or twenty-three you’ll even know what you want your future to be.

I’m working towards a Master’s degree in Social Work because that kind of work comes naturally to me. The act of listening to people complain about their problems, and their lives, and then reframing it positively or helping them come up with solutions, is very easy for me to do. The answers often seem obvious. But the problem with this all is that I don’t especially like people.

It would be one thing if this was a field with a high potential yield, i.e., well-paying. It’s not, though. It’s really not. People are supposed to be social workers because they love it, because they like helping people. But I don’t. I don’t care. I don’t care about other people’s problems.

It hasn’t worked out well for me in the past.

So now I’m just adrift in this ocean of implying that I know what I want to do with my life, that I’m doing it, even, when the reality is that I have no idea and I feel like I’m wasting all my time.

red red rose

I was in Social Work Practice I yesterday, and we broke into small groups to talk about among other things the divide between micro and macro social work practice (people helping individuals vs. people trying to change the system), and we were basically in agreement that both are necessary, and Lisa brought up the difference in stigma between saying one is visiting a psychotherapist or a psychiatrist and saying one is visiting a social worker, and I brought up that there’s stigma attached to that, too, ambling around to this quote:

“That’s social worker talk for ‘I’m poor!'”

I may have vaguely cited it as the sort of thing some young children say when they have to get help from social workers.

Lisa and Symone were really surprised but also really interested. Lisa said it was something she’d never thought of before.

Simpsons for the win.

Never say television doesn’t teach you things.

kepler

I really should’ve known better than to expect much.

DrawerElma does some pretty adorable puzzleshipping art, but for the last few months or so she’s been posting stuff from this fic she’s writing called BitterxSweet (now that I think about it, that’s a pretty lame title) and it’s just been built up and up and up that this fic is going to be released soon, and the first chapter was posted today…!

It sucks.

I mean, I don’t know about the plot (apparently Yami’s a a jerk, or so sayeth her author note) because I started reading it and then this happened:

A loud scream echoed through a small house in the city of Domino.

Everyone in the neighborhood had been asleep long ago, so no one was around to hear the yelling or pay attention to it. As the night covered the streets, the shouting slowly faded away.

…Yeah.

So worth the wait.

But, well, I’m a fair-ish individual, so I was willing to forgo both the fact that the instant I finished that first sentence, my brain had replaced it with “A screaming comes across the sky,” and that “everyone in the neighborhood had been asleep long ago” is a really poor sentence fragment (also yes, people were around to hear the yelling, they were merely not paying attention to it because they were asleep).

I carried on until:

A young man with spiky hair and tanned skin exited a small house in complete rage. His outfit consisted of a red shirt accompanied by a pair of jeans.

The temptation to stop was strong, but a person’s gotta finish the full paragraph, no?

Well…

Despite the fact of it being late, he seemed to be far more concerned about what was going on inside of the house. How could someone be able to get any sleep with such a racket? He eventually sat down at the porch’s ledge, cursing lightly in annoyance.

A person shouldn’t have bothered.

Also, two paragraphs later, she commits the grammatical (and stylistic) sin of: “I’m getting bored of your whining, Atem.” A more soothing deep voice said not showing any sign of rage but more content.

Oh dear. (To make matters worse, the speaker is subsequently identified as “the owner of the new voice.”) And I think this is one of those big projects with a “crack team” of beta readers, too. As in, more than one. As in…I don’t even know. Why aren’t any of them any good? Why?

Okay, one more thing. This caught my eye near the end of that first page:

“See you later, I have school to attend tomorrow morning.” Yami smirked and patted his brother on the shoulder whilst walking back into the house.

“Whilst”?

I…

“Whilst.”

Wow.

And he’s gotta have pretty long arms to be patting Atem on the shoulder whilst walking back into the house.

And who says “attend”? “I have school to attend tomorrow morning.” Do you hear yourself? Do you really? I don’t think you do.

ETA: “I like your writing style. It’s not repetitive and I saw little to no grammar mistakes.”

Hm.

I… Hm.

Maybe you shouldn’t be putting too much stock in those sorts of accolades from someone who thinks “little to no grammar mistakes” is appropriate phrasing.

A.K.A. Evil-duct-tape, sit down and shut up.

ETA: Editing time!

A loud scream [sounded from] a small house [in the]* city of Domino [City]. *[Give a more precise description. The edge of the city? Midtown? etc.]

[Almost e]veryone in the neighborhood had been [was long] asleep long ago, so no one was around to hear[d] the yelling or pay [paid] attention to it. [As the night covered the streets,]* the [shouting]** slowly faded away [stopped]. *[I’m confused about the timing. If everyone’s been asleep for a while, I would think it’s around midnight, at least, but this sentence implies that night is still falling, which means it’s closer to 6:00.] **[Screaming, yelling, and now shouting? Consistency isn’t the same thing as repetitiveness.]

A young man with spiky hair and tanned skin exited a small house in complete rage [stormed out of the house]. [His outfit consisted of a red shirt accompanied by a pair of jeans.]* Despite the fact of it being late hour, he seemed to be far more concerned about [with] what was going on inside of the house [than with…?]. How could someone be able to get any sleep with such a racket? He eventually sat down at the [edge of the] porch’s ledge, cursing [irritably] lightly in annoyance. *[I don’t care. This description is forced and sounds irrelevant. From a more objective position, however, it tells me that he’s still dressed in street clothes, meaning he’s not getting ready for bed (i.e., it’s late, but he’s still awake and alert; I wonder why?), meaning that this is a pretty important descriptive detail. Don’t frame it as telling me about his outfit; I don’t care about his fashion sense. I care that it’s almost midnight in a sleepy little town and he’s not even planning to go to bed.]

“I’m getting bored of your whining, Atem.[,]” A more soothing [a] deep voice said [soothingly,] not showing any sign of rage but more [content]* [than anything]. *[That doesn’t make any sense to me. I can understand this other person not being angry, but content? He just said he was bored, and now his tone is content? I don’t get it.]

Ahhh what is happening to the English language?