Below are the 8 most recent journal entries recorded in liberalthorn's LiveJournal:

Tuesday, December 20th, 2005
10:40 am	Accountable I do actually hold myself accountable. I know everything in life is cause-effect. Cause: My personality is rude. Effect: I have trouble interacting with peers. Believe me, Andrew, this isn't news to me. I'm not sure what you hold against me since I never interact with you, but at least you had the decency to identify yourself. When I write in my blogs, I'm usually upset and consequently, I portray everyone around me as villains and myself as the victim. If I were an acquaintance and I read this whiney journal, I'd roll my eyes and wonder why anyone would be concerned with things as trivial as peer editing. But I'm a lot smarter than I seem. I know which elements of my personality are unattractive. I'm abrasive, cocky, and obnoxious. Those traits are especially prominent in English class because literature and writing excite me. Class discussions are adrenaline rushes for me; I even love grammar lessons. Before Ms. Dahl's class, I hadn't enjoyed English since ninth grade. I know I'm too critical of my peers and expect too much from them. I've confided to Ms. Dahl how difficult class can be for me. I can't understand why my classmates don't contribute to discussions, why they don't volunteer to read out loud, and why they don't apply what they learn to their writing. As a result, I'm constantly frustrated and group work can be unbearable. Ms. Dahl encourages me to relax and be more tolerant. She's right. I douse myself with misery and it reeks like stale cologne. NO one wants to interact with someone who never says anything positive, always criticizes everyone else, and blames everyone but herself for her problems. Despite my flaws, boys haven't been a problem for me. People either hate me or love me and a lot of boys have been interested in me, abrasiveness and all. Three have even confessed to loving me. My boyfriend of 14 months loves that I'm not bound by political correctness and social restraints. I'm not ashamed of my personality. I couldn't write controversial articles and survive the criticism if I didn't have a "screw you" attitude. Criticism hurts me as much as it does everyone else, but I'll never shy away from writing the truth to appease the critics. I'll never be a polite, ass-kissing mealy mouth who blends into her environment, like a social chamleon. I'm a bitch. And I'm okay with it. You're free to hate me as much as you please. Yes, I care about writing mechanics to a point it's obsessive and unhealthy and yes, my personality is as bitter as black coffee. That's the way I am. I'm irritated with myself for caring enough to write a defensive entry, but I've never been one to take the high road. I won't snap at you not to read my journal because you have every right to view public entries. I won't even request that you refrain from leaving uninformed comments. Just acknowledge that these are my initial reactions to every day nuisances and you don't know me well enough to accurately label my character. - I left other comments in my entries. - (Comment on this)
Friday, December 2nd, 2005
10:47 am	Anyone have Excedrin? After being forced to peer edit in English, I have a migraine. I read two horrendous papers and can't understand why people never learn anything from grammar lectures. I wrote "subject-verb agreement" about fifteen times on one kid's paper and we just finished studying subject-verb agreement last week. I don't mind reading my friends' papers. I want them to succeed and I'm happy to help them. But I hate reading papers that were written by people I don't give a damn about. Editing is energy-consuming. On a copy editor level, I see EVERYTHING and feel inadequate if I don't fix the errors myself. At least my friends are thankful when I help them. On a random note, Max L. is a pretty good writer, yet he can't spell. Interesting. A big thanks to him for using the word 'villify' and 'conundrum' in his paper. :-) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, November 20th, 2005
12:23 am	My education only came down to... Studying math for the ACT didn’t pay off. Mom nagged me about borrowing Steve’s ACT prep book for weeks. I stubbornly resisted, for three reasons. I decide what my priorities are and the ACT was never one of them, I hate math, and I hoped my mom would forget about the ACT completely. I was entirely opposed to being labeled with a fucking number. My intelligence can’t be numerically measured. I don’t understand numbers. Numbers slaughtered my ACT score and one composite number has confirmed my suspicions that I’m stupid. I’d rather be labeled with a demeaning adjective than a number. Declare my stupidity with a word like “average,” “unacceptable,” or even “retarded.” Anything but a number. Mom forced me to study math for fifteen minutes every day for a month and a half. I gleaned the pages, cramming formulas into my brain but not understanding any of them. I’ll never understand what a 3-4-5 triangle is, or the point of mathematically proving two lines are parallel when you can stick a ruler between them, or calculating bizarre probabilities. Studying math poisoned my brain. I can’t remember a damn thing from that ACT prep book and I couldn’t apply any of the formulas I memorized on the test. I wasn’t surprised when the math portion of the ACT cracked my skull open like a raw egg and wasted the yolk. I also wasn’t surprised that all of the studying didn’t help me. Nor was I surprised that my math score turned out to be as abyssmal as I suspected. For Christ’s sake, I scored higher in science and I didn’t even read the questions in the science portion. My brain was so empty at the end of the math portion that I didn’t care about science. So I randomly filled in bubbles for the ENTIRE section and finished in ten minutes. Maybe God filled in the bubbles for me because I somehow scored in the 80th percent tile in science and I didn’t score much higher in reading. To my credit, I was in the 98th percent tile for both language and writing. My score would have been amazing if it hadn’t been for math. The one section I studied for is the one section I did the worst in. I scored a 19. A fucking 19. I’ve always known I suck at math, despite my mom’s insisting that I don’t. My parents burst into Chin’s today, faces beaming, and asked me to take a break. Judging by the look of pride on their faces and the enthusiasm in their voices, I thought I had scored in the thirties. But when they showed the report to me, I nearly burst into tears. All of my friends earned a higher score than me. Especially Steve. I guess he, along with the rest of the world, will always beat me. He’s at the University; I’m at a high school that’s swollen with grade inflation. He earns $7.70 an hour at his job; I earn $7.25. He scored a 32 on his ACT; I scored...well, I didn’t score a 32. My entire existence is humiliating. I’ll always be inadequate. I’m pissed that my parents opened the ACT packet. I’ve been checking the mail every single day for the past two weeks to make sure that I’d be the only one to see my score and on the one day I can’t check the goddam mail, my ACT packet comes. I wanted my ACT score to be intensely private. Just between the University and me. I didn’t want anyone to know. I really didn’t. I’m humiliated that my high school education has done so little to sharpen my brain. All of this has been for nothing. Current Mood: disappointed (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, November 18th, 2005
10:36 am	Social filler "Are you going to the senior party?" Evan asked me before lunch. I snorted. "Why would I want to do that?" "Because it's your last year of high school. You'll never have this year back and instead of hating everyone, you ought to have fun." "I hate everyone in this school," I fumed, "and I can't wait for this whole experience to be over." "Then why don't you go to MSA's senior party!" he snapped back. "Because I hate everyone there too." A pang of sadness momentarily distracted me from my anger. I do hate everyone, don't I? I could switch schools every quarter and never like the people around me. "You don't understand," I added quietly. "I don't have a group of friends like you do. I just stick to myself." "I understand, but you can't avoid everyone forever. You're going to hate people at work, at college, and you'll never escape it. And do you really think my friends pay attention to me?" My anger suddenly erupted again. "That's why you want me to go," I accused him darkly, "You don't have anyone else." "NO, I want you to be happy. It's not because I don't have anyone." With that, he stormed off toward choir. He always claims that he wants me to be happy. I'm not retarded. Boys aren't selfless enough to have "I want you to be happy" be the true intent. If all of his friends who graduated last year were coming to the party, he wouldn't even mention it to me. The stricken look on his face confirmed that I struck a chord, no matter how much he insists he wants me to have fun. I'm fully aware that people only talk to me when no one else is around. Otherwise, I'm completely ignored. I'm a social filler. Decent company until someone better shows up. Happens to me all the time. Sometimes I'm stupid enough to believe that the person actually wants to talk to me. Then his or her friend shows up and I'm reminded that I'm nothing more than a social crutch. Case and point: when Max was missing on a day the school had an assembly, Matt sat with me in the stands because Max wasn't there. Today, Max talked to me in English because Matt wasn't there. When they're both present, neither one talks to me unless I talk to him first. The case with Evan is identical. He wants my company at the senior party because his relations with the Super Happy Club have been tense and he doesn't want to feel ignored. And he wonders why I treated his suggestion with utmost hostility. Excuse me for not being flattered. Current Mood: rejected (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
10:34 am	Irreconcileable? Last night was miserable. (Comment on this)
Monday, November 14th, 2005
12:41 am	Ever feel like you're runnin' on empty? Yeah. I do. (Comment on this)
Friday, November 11th, 2005
1:35 pm	Sigh My weight plummeted. Again. My dad pointed out the noticeable emaciation in my face and Steve noticed that my ribs are closer to my skin than usual. I don't see much of a difference. *shrug* The weight loss doesn't bother me. In a warped way, I want to lose weight. I'm sick of trying to be beautiful. I can't be. I'm not equipped with a classic hour-glass figure, my breasts are pathetic mole hills compared to those of my female peers, and my skin is spotted with tiny, but noticeable, blemishes. No amount of makeup will ever disguise my frail figure and speckled skin. I'm stuck looking like this. I feel so inferior compared to my bustier peers. I want to have a reputation for being beautiful. Not smart. Being smart sucks. Men don't appreciate intelligence if it isn't encased in a shiny wrapping. No one gives a damn that I'm an articulate, talented writer with enormous potential. All people see is a scrawny adolescent with a gloomy spirit and rigid demeanor. So I'm going to shrink until I'm no longer remotely desireable. If I can't be beautiful, I might as well take myself out of the competition completely. Current Mood: resigned (Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 9th, 2005
10:46 am	Writing I haven't written in a long time, partially because I don't have access to the Internet at home. I'm going to solve this problem by hand writing my entries at home and then typing them up during my lunch time at school. I don't remember the last time I wrote for myself in a private journal. Sometimes writing frightens me. I uncover crannies in my subconscious that I purposely repress and writing indulges my obsessions. Whether or not writing again full time is a smart idea, I don't know, but either way, I've missed it too much to keep neglecting it. Current Mood: uncomfortable (Comment on this)