Stream of Consciousness for Comp-Lit

Before I start, don't be nitpicky about my comments on certain behaviors and religion. Just don't.

James Barabe

Nadia Ahmed

Comp-Lit 141

23 March 2009

"Stream of Consciousness"

                It's 10:53pm. Sometimes when I sit alone in this dark room, three and a half hours from home, my mind becomes fixated on subtle details of the atmosphere. Wow, the night just keeps getting colder and colder. Word from home is that this week is going to have some more of those winter temperatures that everyone fucking hates. I don't know what I should be doing right now, my presentation due Wednesday isn't started yet and I've yet to decide on something to compare to "Everything is Illuminated".

                Oh shit, Russ just came back. Fucking bastard. Nah, never mind. I don't have anything bad to say about him, best roommate I could ask for, too bad he's going to be an R.A. next year.

                The first half of this week is going to be fucked. I still have to learn those two songs for Marimba Band, write the comp-lit and psych papers, and study for Tuesday's psych exam. This would be a lot easier if I'd been to class in the last few weeks.  The shitty thing about this situation is that I have no reason to miss class aside from being tired. I get tired, then I get stressed, then I don't sleep, then I do sleep, then I miss class, then I get more stressed. This cycle is as rough as the continuous pressures within life can become. Well, not really. I can't wait to start getting bills for rent and utilities. Stay in college as long as possible, good plan.

                How the fuck did I get so fat? I guess I've always been fat. I wish that my parents would have bothered to make me eat healthy as a kid so that it wouldn't be so hard to turn my bad habits around now. Can't really blame them, my Dad tried so hard to get me into baseball, If I had stuck with any one thing during the course of my childhood, I  probably would have A: Talent, and B: Exercise.  It seems that everyone these days has shitty parents that are all fucked up, plagued by emotional baggage and divorce. I was never beaten, discouraged (for the most part, my mom was a bitch at times but I never took her too seriously when she was negative), or neglected. Maybe this is all an only child thing. I found out today that my county is #24th skinniest county in the U.S. That bullshit makes me feel even more like shit. It's like everyone around me caught on, but I had some kind of dysfunction that made me not see what was happening to my body.  Oh well, fuck it, at least I'm not a cutter. Could be bulimic I guess. (not true, only girls and a small number of boys have eating disorders)

                Holy shit, why is my life so good? I bitch about this crap to myself all the time, but when I put my life under the microscope there is nothing really wrong with me except that I'm fat and lazy. CHRISTIANITY COULD HAVE FIXED ALL OF THIS!!! If I had believed all my life that being a lazy slob would send me to hell maybe I would be fit and have a longer life ahead of me. I just accidentally justified religion. Awesome!