After going to the psych a couple of times, I had to tell my main teacher about it. The first two times I was lucky enough to get appointments at days where I was to leave school earlier than normal because of tests and so, but you can't live on that. So I had to tell her that I had leave class earlier than usual because I had an appointment at the psych.
When I told her, she was like: "Are you OK?" I assured her I was, and then she asked why I was seeing a psych. "It's personal," was my comment. Because it is. And no, I'm not going to tell an irritating teacher in her fifties who is way too into the motherhood thing why I'm talking to the psych. No way.
But then I wrote this text (which I've posted earlier here) for my semester final in English. Because we have a pretty cool English teacher, who I don't really mind knowing. And no, I didn't cross fingers and toes wishing she wouldn't let the other teachers read it, because I don't really care. I would actually like it if she ever let my former English teacher read some of my texts (at least the good ones), because if she's impressed, she's really impressed. But my main teacher? Who don't even teach English...
And I didn't know that before today. Because when I, in Social where she's my teacher, said not everyone thinks writing about their feelings is easy, and that I possibly could be in that group, she was just like, "Oh, I know you can. I've read some of your texts, you see."
When that happens to others I would totally say "Burn..." And that was (clearly) a major burn. So now I know... My teachers are crazy. Or annoying. Both. But now I've definitely learned something new about some of them.
What's the purpose of reading a student's writing when you're not near grading it? She doesn't even teach English! And no, I don't care whether she's my main teacher or not; She's got nothing to do reading it!
Today's mix: Trust issues and anger problems. I bet she's psychoanalyzing me in her sparetime. Yay...!
Showing posts with label text. Show all posts
Showing posts with label text. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Regrets
Life isn’t easy
We all face challenges in our lives. Some of us are luckier than others, but whether you’re richer than Zimbabwe or live in the slum of Brasilia, you will always have problems. You might have to fight for your life every single day because you don’t have money to buy you food. Or you might struggle with your sexuality or have problems at home because your mother beats your younger brother when he can’t sleep at night. And that’s what makes us humans.
The last couple of years I’ve had problems. Not in the way that I haven’t had a place to live, or that I got beaten at home. I’m actually quite fortunate in that perspective, living in a country with good health care system and a school system where everyone is included. Both my parents are working, and I have the food and clothes I need. I must say I’m very lucky living this life. But, everyone has problems. It’s a part of life not being 100% happy all the time. Still, you’re supposed to see the good sides of life too. Not everyone does. And I’m one of them.
Depression is the word. A study said that about one out of ten adolescents have a mild to moderate depression. I don’t know if I would take it that far, but I know there are other people out there having problems like mine. Nobody’s alone, I’m sure. It’s just to see the others. But if you first end up in the bad circle, it’s hard to see that. It’s easy to look at the bad things, and forget that there are things that can be positive as well. And that bad circle is really hard to break.
But what can cause a person to end up with solely negative thoughts? How can it all end up that bad? Is a previous event relevant? Or is it more based on feelings? In my case it is more a mixture. That might be it for the majority of us. Example: You can stand being bullied once, but you usually can’t take the bullying if it happens on a daily basis. Also, when you end up with a depression, something got over the top. It might be that last hit from your classmate, or that last comment your family made about your dressing style. Or that you overheard your father talking about Caster Semenya and that he thinks she should be disqualified from the World Championship because she looks like a man, when you were about to go and tell him that you don’t feel like a woman, though you were born one. It is that last push and the negative feelings that usually do it.
I have my own reasons for not being happy. We all have. That doesn’t mean we can’t be happy sometimes. Not all the time, that’s impossible, only sometimes. But if you have too many bad feelings at the same time, you might end up in that bad circle, and you can’t see the good sides anymore. Then it is to realize. Realize what you’re really going through, see that you need help, and then seek for the help.
Seeking for help might be even worse than being in the bad circle. Maybe you have an idea of what makes you depressed, maybe not. If you think you know the answer, you might not want to realize it, even though you have the knowledge. What if your loved ones are causing you trouble? And if you don’t know, what do you do then? Will the one you try to talk to even understand?
I was directed to a psychologist when I finally got up the courage to talk with somebody about my problems. The day I took contact might have been the worst day of my life, as I was so frightened what would happen. A thousand questions ran through my head. When I first got up the courage to tell, I didn’t say directly that I wasn’t happy with life; I rather told an “excuse”, a smaller part of the whole thing. That I have problems with my family was a good enough part of the story to make the people I talked with understanding. And if you don’t know what to say, that’s what you say. Explain that you’re not happy with life, but that you don’t know what to do. They will understand. And when you finally ask for help, everything will get better.
Life is scary sometimes. I’ve faced some of the scariest parts I imagine you can fill a life with, and I still have more to come. It helps, though. Facing reality isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. And you’ll get so much out of it. I know I will, when I’ve overcome my struggles. I know that when I can take the bad sides of life, I’ll be a very strong person. Going through this will help me another day when I have another challenge in life, and it might even help others. But it is scary. And difficult. But that’s how it’s like to be a human. It isn’t easy. Because life isn’t easy.
OK, so that was what I wrote as my semester final yesterday. Now it's out here in my not-real life as well as in my English teacher's hands. "A very strong text! Your English is excellent!" is what she said about it. But still, I think I shouldn't have done it. I really shouldn't have written about the psych.
So now I regret. Damn, how great! They shouldn't know it, right? Why should they? I go to the psych now and then, and then I give my main teacher a note from the psych because mom and dad don't know. There was no point in writing about it so another teacher of mine would know, and if she reads it loud in front of the other teachers (which they do sometimes) everyone will know. Every freaking teacher in 10th might know by now!
This was not supposed to happen.
We all face challenges in our lives. Some of us are luckier than others, but whether you’re richer than Zimbabwe or live in the slum of Brasilia, you will always have problems. You might have to fight for your life every single day because you don’t have money to buy you food. Or you might struggle with your sexuality or have problems at home because your mother beats your younger brother when he can’t sleep at night. And that’s what makes us humans.
The last couple of years I’ve had problems. Not in the way that I haven’t had a place to live, or that I got beaten at home. I’m actually quite fortunate in that perspective, living in a country with good health care system and a school system where everyone is included. Both my parents are working, and I have the food and clothes I need. I must say I’m very lucky living this life. But, everyone has problems. It’s a part of life not being 100% happy all the time. Still, you’re supposed to see the good sides of life too. Not everyone does. And I’m one of them.
Depression is the word. A study said that about one out of ten adolescents have a mild to moderate depression. I don’t know if I would take it that far, but I know there are other people out there having problems like mine. Nobody’s alone, I’m sure. It’s just to see the others. But if you first end up in the bad circle, it’s hard to see that. It’s easy to look at the bad things, and forget that there are things that can be positive as well. And that bad circle is really hard to break.
But what can cause a person to end up with solely negative thoughts? How can it all end up that bad? Is a previous event relevant? Or is it more based on feelings? In my case it is more a mixture. That might be it for the majority of us. Example: You can stand being bullied once, but you usually can’t take the bullying if it happens on a daily basis. Also, when you end up with a depression, something got over the top. It might be that last hit from your classmate, or that last comment your family made about your dressing style. Or that you overheard your father talking about Caster Semenya and that he thinks she should be disqualified from the World Championship because she looks like a man, when you were about to go and tell him that you don’t feel like a woman, though you were born one. It is that last push and the negative feelings that usually do it.
I have my own reasons for not being happy. We all have. That doesn’t mean we can’t be happy sometimes. Not all the time, that’s impossible, only sometimes. But if you have too many bad feelings at the same time, you might end up in that bad circle, and you can’t see the good sides anymore. Then it is to realize. Realize what you’re really going through, see that you need help, and then seek for the help.
Seeking for help might be even worse than being in the bad circle. Maybe you have an idea of what makes you depressed, maybe not. If you think you know the answer, you might not want to realize it, even though you have the knowledge. What if your loved ones are causing you trouble? And if you don’t know, what do you do then? Will the one you try to talk to even understand?
I was directed to a psychologist when I finally got up the courage to talk with somebody about my problems. The day I took contact might have been the worst day of my life, as I was so frightened what would happen. A thousand questions ran through my head. When I first got up the courage to tell, I didn’t say directly that I wasn’t happy with life; I rather told an “excuse”, a smaller part of the whole thing. That I have problems with my family was a good enough part of the story to make the people I talked with understanding. And if you don’t know what to say, that’s what you say. Explain that you’re not happy with life, but that you don’t know what to do. They will understand. And when you finally ask for help, everything will get better.
Life is scary sometimes. I’ve faced some of the scariest parts I imagine you can fill a life with, and I still have more to come. It helps, though. Facing reality isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. And you’ll get so much out of it. I know I will, when I’ve overcome my struggles. I know that when I can take the bad sides of life, I’ll be a very strong person. Going through this will help me another day when I have another challenge in life, and it might even help others. But it is scary. And difficult. But that’s how it’s like to be a human. It isn’t easy. Because life isn’t easy.
OK, so that was what I wrote as my semester final yesterday. Now it's out here in my not-real life as well as in my English teacher's hands. "A very strong text! Your English is excellent!" is what she said about it. But still, I think I shouldn't have done it. I really shouldn't have written about the psych.
So now I regret. Damn, how great! They shouldn't know it, right? Why should they? I go to the psych now and then, and then I give my main teacher a note from the psych because mom and dad don't know. There was no point in writing about it so another teacher of mine would know, and if she reads it loud in front of the other teachers (which they do sometimes) everyone will know. Every freaking teacher in 10th might know by now!
This was not supposed to happen.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Too Desperate
I'm totally too desperate. Just check out what I wrote this Monday for a written task in English... The task was to "write a modern short story about two people in love, and parents who, for some reason, don't accept it."
Hiding
“Hi! Come inside. Christopher? Daniel is here!” Chris’ mother closed the door after Dan. And just within a couple of seconds he could see Chris at the top of the staircase. His beautiful smile lightened the whole face of Chris, and Dan couldn’t do other than to smile back at him.
“Hi!” Chris said, “I’ve just started reading. Come upstairs!”
They went into his room and sat down on the bed. Dan opened his bag and pulled out his English books.
“So…” Chris went, “Have you thought about it yet?”
“Eh… What?” said Dan, looking at Chris.
“Well, do you want us to be a couple?”
“Oh, that. Of course I want to. It’s just… You know, difficult.”
“I know it’s difficult. Life is difficult! And I don’t mean we should go official or anything. I’m not crazy. But… Well, I don’t know.” Chris lowered his head.
“Listen, Chris: I really like you. And I want to be with you. But my family, your family and the whole town make it hard.” Now Dan took Chris’ hands in his: “Let’s be together. I would love to. OK?”
“OK.” Now Chris smiled: “I really do love you.”
“So, senior prom is next Friday. Have you got a date yet?” Dan’s best friend, Greg, asks him after PE class.
“Well, not really…” Dan said. Or, technically he did have a date, but could he pull it through with Chris?
“You have to ask Jessica,” Greg kept going, as in another world: “She’s totally the sexiest girl of the seniors. Or, didn’t Dylan ask her? Now, I don’t know, but it doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”
“Yeah…” Dan replied, not interested.
“Anyway, you better get on gear before all the hotties are gone!”
Get on gear… No, more likely get the courage to go to prom with a guy. Courage, that was the thing.
“Chris?” Dan said. He sat on the green carpet on the floor, and looked up at Chris studying in the bed: “Do you want to go to prom with me?”
“What?” he said, surprised.
“You and me. At prom. Do you want to?”
“Are you seriously?” Dan nodded. “Yes! Of course I will! But wait. What about Mom and Dad? They’re definitely going to find out if we go.”
“Then we have to tell them.”
Chris and Dan were terrified about telling them. Both of their families were Catholics, and shared a vision that a man and a woman should get married and have children. Not to men. What if they denied it all? Or what if they would disown them, kick them out of the house and cut finances?
The evening before prom Chris checked over his suit for the last time. His mother entered his room: “So, who’s the lucky girl? You haven’t told me yet.”
“Mom, I have to tell you something,” Chris started: “I’m going to prom with Dan.”
“What? Are you…?” Chris’ mother asked slowly.
“Yes.”
“Then get out of my house.”
The doorbell rang at Dan’s house, and Dan opened. He had tears in his eyes, and the sound of someone crying inside reached all the way to the door.
“Oh… You told them as well?” Chris asked.
“Yes. What happened with you?” Dan could see that Chris carried a dark blue bag with him.
“I was kicked out of the house.”
“Shoot.”
Then Dan went to his room, packed a bag as well, and together he and Chris went outside to Dan’s car. They put their belongings into the trunk, and drove into the night.
“So, what do we do now?” Dan asked.
“I got an aunt in San Francisco. She might let us stay there a couple of days.”
“San Francisco... That’s a 12 hour drive.”
“True. But it’s probably the best solution at the moment.”
“Then let’s go.”
Read and judge me yourself. And yes; I did got an A+, even though I definitely didn't deserve it...
Hiding
“Hi! Come inside. Christopher? Daniel is here!” Chris’ mother closed the door after Dan. And just within a couple of seconds he could see Chris at the top of the staircase. His beautiful smile lightened the whole face of Chris, and Dan couldn’t do other than to smile back at him.
“Hi!” Chris said, “I’ve just started reading. Come upstairs!”
They went into his room and sat down on the bed. Dan opened his bag and pulled out his English books.
“So…” Chris went, “Have you thought about it yet?”
“Eh… What?” said Dan, looking at Chris.
“Well, do you want us to be a couple?”
“Oh, that. Of course I want to. It’s just… You know, difficult.”
“I know it’s difficult. Life is difficult! And I don’t mean we should go official or anything. I’m not crazy. But… Well, I don’t know.” Chris lowered his head.
“Listen, Chris: I really like you. And I want to be with you. But my family, your family and the whole town make it hard.” Now Dan took Chris’ hands in his: “Let’s be together. I would love to. OK?”
“OK.” Now Chris smiled: “I really do love you.”
“So, senior prom is next Friday. Have you got a date yet?” Dan’s best friend, Greg, asks him after PE class.
“Well, not really…” Dan said. Or, technically he did have a date, but could he pull it through with Chris?
“You have to ask Jessica,” Greg kept going, as in another world: “She’s totally the sexiest girl of the seniors. Or, didn’t Dylan ask her? Now, I don’t know, but it doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”
“Yeah…” Dan replied, not interested.
“Anyway, you better get on gear before all the hotties are gone!”
Get on gear… No, more likely get the courage to go to prom with a guy. Courage, that was the thing.
“Chris?” Dan said. He sat on the green carpet on the floor, and looked up at Chris studying in the bed: “Do you want to go to prom with me?”
“What?” he said, surprised.
“You and me. At prom. Do you want to?”
“Are you seriously?” Dan nodded. “Yes! Of course I will! But wait. What about Mom and Dad? They’re definitely going to find out if we go.”
“Then we have to tell them.”
Chris and Dan were terrified about telling them. Both of their families were Catholics, and shared a vision that a man and a woman should get married and have children. Not to men. What if they denied it all? Or what if they would disown them, kick them out of the house and cut finances?
The evening before prom Chris checked over his suit for the last time. His mother entered his room: “So, who’s the lucky girl? You haven’t told me yet.”
“Mom, I have to tell you something,” Chris started: “I’m going to prom with Dan.”
“What? Are you…?” Chris’ mother asked slowly.
“Yes.”
“Then get out of my house.”
The doorbell rang at Dan’s house, and Dan opened. He had tears in his eyes, and the sound of someone crying inside reached all the way to the door.
“Oh… You told them as well?” Chris asked.
“Yes. What happened with you?” Dan could see that Chris carried a dark blue bag with him.
“I was kicked out of the house.”
“Shoot.”
Then Dan went to his room, packed a bag as well, and together he and Chris went outside to Dan’s car. They put their belongings into the trunk, and drove into the night.
“So, what do we do now?” Dan asked.
“I got an aunt in San Francisco. She might let us stay there a couple of days.”
“San Francisco... That’s a 12 hour drive.”
“True. But it’s probably the best solution at the moment.”
“Then let’s go.”
Read and judge me yourself. And yes; I did got an A+, even though I definitely didn't deserve it...
Friday, April 17, 2009
Not So Good Love After All
This hit me today: Why the hell am I intimidated by my teacher? As I told a couple of weeks ago, I was up to a parent meeting (where my homeroom teacher, let's call her "Joan", my father and I sit down for half an hour talking about me and school). It didn't go terrible, and, thankfully, no words said about the "torpedo hirer." Only thing is that I'm scared to death...
The reason I'm scared isn't because "Joan" is a murder. Nor is she afraid of garlic. The whole stupid thing is that I kind of have a crush on her. And since I wrote about this gay couple (which no 9th grader would ever do if they aren't gay themselves (or so it is in Norway), I'm pretty sure "Joan" thinks I'm gay as well. Like 95% sure.
And, I assure you, that isn't really so bad, after all. But I really want to just tell her instead of writing stupid and terribly bad short stories to explain. Still, there's something that really sucks. Since I have a crush on her, I act horrible when I'm around her. Which is really bad. But the worst thing is that I think she knows...
Yes, she's very accepting (or so I think), but there's no fun in having a crush on your homeroom teacher. Especially not if there's a good chance she knows you're gay and that you got a crush on her.
So, here I am. Madly in love with woman. And there's nothing wrong with it. But what I want is not to have a crush on my homeroom teacher (who grades me in five subjects). I want to tell her I'm gay!
Yeah... That's the reason I try to avoid her in the corridor. But I do look her in the eye, and she looks back. Gosh, I'm really a mess...
FYI: I'm tired and sad, OK? Please don't get mad that I kind of act some egoistic. 'Cause I know. And I'm sorry about that.
The reason I'm scared isn't because "Joan" is a murder. Nor is she afraid of garlic. The whole stupid thing is that I kind of have a crush on her. And since I wrote about this gay couple (which no 9th grader would ever do if they aren't gay themselves (or so it is in Norway), I'm pretty sure "Joan" thinks I'm gay as well. Like 95% sure.
And, I assure you, that isn't really so bad, after all. But I really want to just tell her instead of writing stupid and terribly bad short stories to explain. Still, there's something that really sucks. Since I have a crush on her, I act horrible when I'm around her. Which is really bad. But the worst thing is that I think she knows...
Yes, she's very accepting (or so I think), but there's no fun in having a crush on your homeroom teacher. Especially not if there's a good chance she knows you're gay and that you got a crush on her.
So, here I am. Madly in love with woman. And there's nothing wrong with it. But what I want is not to have a crush on my homeroom teacher (who grades me in five subjects). I want to tell her I'm gay!
Yeah... That's the reason I try to avoid her in the corridor. But I do look her in the eye, and she looks back. Gosh, I'm really a mess...
FYI: I'm tired and sad, OK? Please don't get mad that I kind of act some egoistic. 'Cause I know. And I'm sorry about that.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
I'm Scared. For Real.
On Thursday I got a note from my homeroom teacher. I'm up to a parent meeting. And what stroke to me, even though I knew it would come some day? NOOOO!
The reason I'm not very happy having a parent meeting isn't that I'm such a bad girl. I do well in school, I've never beat up anyone, and I just argue a bit with my teachers. The reason is that I last week wrote a short story at school (kind of like an exam). And it wasn't about planning any terror attack, but about a woman and her becoming wife.
"Jeez, it's just about a gay woman, who cares?" you might say. Well, it's not nothing. First of all, my dad's very conservative. For the second, I'm pretty sure nobody in Norway would ever write about that not being gay themselves, and that will lead my teacher to believe I'm gay. As I am. But the whole thing is that if she ever even hints about that to Dad, who's the one coming, I'll be dead.
No, I'm not scared what my teacher will think or say, but if she ever mentions anything near me being something he doesn't want me to be, life won't be easy the upcoming months.
Gosh, I feel dead already. Just please let it be, I beg you!
If you want to read my story, check out my other site where I post many of much of my written work: http://sunnys-texts.blogspot.com/ (You probably have to scroll a bit down, but it's there, called "The Torpedo Hirer"
The reason I'm not very happy having a parent meeting isn't that I'm such a bad girl. I do well in school, I've never beat up anyone, and I just argue a bit with my teachers. The reason is that I last week wrote a short story at school (kind of like an exam). And it wasn't about planning any terror attack, but about a woman and her becoming wife.
"Jeez, it's just about a gay woman, who cares?" you might say. Well, it's not nothing. First of all, my dad's very conservative. For the second, I'm pretty sure nobody in Norway would ever write about that not being gay themselves, and that will lead my teacher to believe I'm gay. As I am. But the whole thing is that if she ever even hints about that to Dad, who's the one coming, I'll be dead.
No, I'm not scared what my teacher will think or say, but if she ever mentions anything near me being something he doesn't want me to be, life won't be easy the upcoming months.
Gosh, I feel dead already. Just please let it be, I beg you!
If you want to read my story, check out my other site where I post many of much of my written work: http://sunnys-texts.blogspot.com/ (You probably have to scroll a bit down, but it's there, called "The Torpedo Hirer"
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