I just found out that I failed my last algorithms mid-term. It just seems like no matter how hard I try, I always end up failing. It seems so worthless, all the effort I put into my schoolwork. Even all my studying for my cryptography exam will all be for naught.

It pisses me the fuck off. I feel so angry just thinking about it. This is my worst term to date. I have a good chance of failing three of my five finals.

Sometimes I feel like I need this. I need to fail completely, so I can learn to not do it again. Normally, I need to fail my midterms so that I don’t fail my finals. It creates a pressure on me to do well, and the pressure works. But this is pressure on a much larger scale, because it could get me kicked out of the program.

It feels as if I need this bigger pressure to get on with my life. I really need some kind of change, some kind of incident to happen that can galvanize the static that seems to be controlling my life.

Oddly enough, I seem to have a back-up plan for every failure possible; I can take another course to make up for failing cryptography, I can take algorithms at Carleton if I fail it this term, and I can appeal my second failure of networking to the dean.

And yet, everything feels so hopeless. I think I just need it to happen. So that I can move on. So that there can be change.

So that I can get better.

It’s very hard for me to get someone out of my mind, once they are there. I have some very odd ideas. My mind starts to wonder.

I wish it was something that I could control better. It’s quite an embarrassing affliction. If anyone really knew what I was thinking, I don’t think they’d understand. I always use my imagination to fill in the blanks, and it ends up driving me nuts. It feels as if I need to imagine, in order to give myself hope, that my faith in humanity can be renewed. I end up being frustrated at myself, and jittery.

Something which only music can cure.

I’ve never shaken while watching TV before. Yet today I shook, I trembled, I bit my nails. A special was on 31 today called Bushido: The Way of the Warrior. I’ve never been much of a fighting fan. Boxing has always boring, pro-wresting isn’t fighting at all, and UFC just never appealed to me. For some reason though, watching Bushido sucked me in. They had the best matches I’ve ever seen before, real or fake.

The final title was fought between two large Japanese warriors, and it was the one that really knocked the wind out of me. The match was extremely close, with one fighter being smaller than the other. The smaller one took a lot of leg hits in the beginning so was injured from the start. This disadvantage, as well as his size difference, cost him the match, but not before he pulled off a screaming, adrenalin rushing, sitting-on-the-guy’s-ass boston crab and injuring him. There was one point where he had the larger fighter by the feet when the larger fighter was belly up on the mat. They were both trying to feel each other out, the smaller one looking for a submission opening, and the larger one trying to anticipate the direction of the move. The hands of the smaller one were tied up with the leg holding, so his entire head was open to attack from his opponent, which he did. Every time the larger guy punched his face, he got psyched, and kept shouting for more. He managed to pull the submission off, but it was reversed and he eventually lost the match.

I always find it interesting to know that I can feel something different, that I can react in a way that I haven’t been known to before, that I can shake from a television programme. There are always things that I enjoy finding out about myself, because it feels like I’m not a static person, that there is the possibility of change in me. Sometimes I’m surprised at my own confidence, or even stunned at the cerebrality I’ve been able to gain.

If only my heart could change as well.

I’ve realized that, for some reason, I’m always, constantly seeking the approval of others. It’s something that’s become a part of me, although I know that I’m able to deal with the times when I can get no approval whatsoever.

I hate this about myself. It feels so damn cheap and shallow. It can bother me so much to know that someone doesn’t like me, or something that I’ve done.

My understanding of the reason why I’m like this is that my previous major relationships have all hurt me in the subject of acceptance. It has affected me so much that it’s something that I can’t get over. I need acceptance to fulfill a childhood void.

I adore praise. My mind accepts it like a vacuum. I let it affect me, and I don’t care. It’s something that I need.

When praise leaves me, then I feel like I’m left alone, with no one who can understand anything that I do. It feels like there’s no acceptance, like everyone hates my being.

And with this I go to sleep.

The night sky outside my window burns with orange pleasure, and I try some minimalistic Vincent Gallo songs to mellow out. It’s working.

Ever since my Christmas trip has been cancelled, I’ve been at a loss for things to do. I really have no plans now. I think I might just spend it here, instead of going home. I think I’ll buy a pair of skates for myself as a Christmas present, and go out on the canal at night, when it’s lonely and chilly. The winter sky is always breathtaking. I’ll just stay here and relax, not actually doing anything. Perhaps I’ll be able to catch up on some reading, or I can work on some projects I’ve been meaning to finish. Sometimes it’s great to be alone, because it’s so brutally honest when one doesn’t want it to be. The stark reality allows me to realize many things.

Things which need clarity.