I’ve had a crazy day so far. I had to wake up early to get to class, which was difficult enough considering the fact that I stayed up later than normal working on my DNA essay yesterday. I’m supposed to write a six page summary on someone else’s research paper. I found a good one yesterday morning, so I worked on it for most of the day. About half-way through I found out that the paper wasn’t long enough. I’d only have enough material to write for about 2.5 pages. So I basically had to start over again at 8:30 pm. I found an even better one though; it’s longer and has less confusing linear algebra.

Then I had to do the cryptography presentation today. On the week-end I wrote most of the final report, which ended up being 17 pages once I was done with it. Dina should be adding a few more pages too. The entire project came together today for the presentation. We had to present to two TAs, and we ended up doing fairly well. Some presentations somehow lasted an hour…ours was only about ten minutes. Even the difficult TA said that we did a good job, which made me happy. We literally pulled it together at the last minute, while other groups were presenting.

I bought a Via six-pack today, which I’m guessing is only available to full-time students. My ISIC expires this December, so I need to get a new one or I’ll be stuck at home. John’s probably coming up on the 20th to stay for a few days, and he’ll drive me back. The only problem is getting back from there. I’m still a full-time student next semester, but one of the courses I need to register for doesn’t show on my timetable. Since that probably won’t be until the next school semester, I won’t be able to purchace an ISIC card until then, which I will need to use my six-pack. I tried to talk to my bitch of an academic advisor about the issue, but she gets every other day off, one of them being today.

A few days ago I had a strange feeling. The idea that I was a virus stuck in my head. Anything I came in contact with became infected.

It just seemed like anyone I’ve become close with has been hurt in some way. It felt as if all my relationships always take a turn for the worse, and it’s my fault. I’ll find some tiny, forgivable trait, and turn it into a detestable problem. I’ll close off. I’ll hurt someone.

Sometimes I think that I hurt people to test my boundaries, to know how much they care. Perhaps I’m so insecure in my relationships that I need to be sure about how someone feels about me.

It’s as if I try to be friends with people I want to offend, so that they will hurt me back in some way, like Travis Bickle. Perhaps I need to be hurt.

I constantly feel as if I don’t know how to love. It’s such a frighteningly scary idea. I wish I loved more. So many times I believe that I am experiencing love, only to realize that I’m not, that it was just a fleeting emotion. Perhaps I need to be hurt to know that I can love.

I’ve only truly loved once. Perhaps it was so intense, so passionate, that all other emotions feel numb in comparison.

Perhaps I simply don’t know what love is.

I just know that I don’t want to hurt anymore.

Sometimes people say things that just seem to hurt. One knows that they don’t mean it, yet it hurts anyway. For some reason, it’s even more painful, due to the ignorance involved. But what can one do in such a situation? Pretend as if nothing happened? I simply become antisocial. That happens a lot actually. When someone upsets me in any way, whether I become angry, sad, or forlorn, I’ll close up. I’ll distance myself, and I can’t help but be taciturn.

No wonder.

I got my cryptography mid-term back yesterday, and it turns out that I failed it. That means that I failed more than half my mid-terms. I’m starting to worry about my finals. I was actually considering my absence at Dougie’s LAN party, but Aaron (rather easily) talked me into going.

I once wrote about how I could never come up with my own ideas, that my creativity was non-existent. After all, I look to this and that for inspiration and ideas on nice, simple webpage design. It seems to be true for almost everything I do though. My style of dress. My expressions. My elocution.

When I first wrote about this, it felt like I had no creativity whatsoever, that nothing I created was original. I constantly felt like all that I could do was imitate.

The realization dawned on me today, that I always look up to certain aspects of so many people, and that I’m always trying to capture that aspect for myself, such as Steve’s style, Aaron’s character, Rob’s serenity, John’s/Alvin’s intelligence, Nadine’s charisma, or Dave’s strength. It feels like I’m just a motley menagerie of other peoples’ personalities, never really being “myself”. I end up being someone who can only imitate parts of other people.

I suppose that I’m fine with this, although it’s taken me a while to understand this fact. After all, it’s only been within the last year or so that I’ve come to accept myself, and who I’ve come to be. I feel like I’ve become a better person in my pursuit of self-improvement, but only by following what I like in others.

For only in others can I see beauty.

Why do I feel the need to write again so soon? Why can’t I just live one more day without having to tell my thoughts to something, anything that will accept without judgment? Sometimes I wish that I couldn’t write for months.

I think I passed my DNA Computing and Quantum Computing test today. It turns out that I was missing about 1/4 of the notes, so I really had to do some last minute studying. The prof made it fairly easy though, which I was glad to see.

I stumbled across some Taoist teachings today, and I was intrigued by what I read. I think it’s something that I’ll have to research more, along with my Buddhist beliefs and Confucianism.

Women are quite able to make friends with a man; but to preserve such a friendship — that no doubt requires the assistance of a slight physical antipathy.

—Nietzsche

When I first read this, I wasn’t too sure about the validity of it, or perhaps even the validity pertaining to myself. In the last month, however, it seems to be so true that any consideration of the possibility to the contrary would be ridiculous.

Today, someone told me that ever since she first met me, she thought I was Korean. It was pretty surprizing, since this girl was Chinese herself. It’s the first time I’d ever been mistaken for Korean, although people often confuse my last name as being Vietnamese. Do we really all look the same? Well, since even I failed the test, I suppose it’s true.