My Own Worst Enemy

My body hates me.

I’m more than certain that my immune system is trying to sabotage any and all important goals that need accomplishing. Okay, maybe not any and all goals, but just the one I’ve been trying to make a reality since last Friday.

Typical.

I woke up at 8 ‘o clock yesterday morning, actually psyched and determined to retake an English test at the community college I plan to attend in the Spring…Yes, it’s a community college, but it’s a college nonetheless…That, however, did not happen. After sitting through a half hour of news stories that I’d heard about the day before, I remembered that Supernatural moved the air time an hour early to 9 ‘o clock. I turned on the respective channel, only to watch a rerun of a season three episode, which wasn’t really a big deal. It’s the kind of show I can watch reruns over and over again without getting sick of it because there’s something that I seem to notice upon the second or third watch, and honestly, it’s always good to refresh your memory.

In what seemed like a matter of minutes, I started sneezing. I could instantly feel that dreaded cloud of the common cold weigh me down. After the sneezing came the sinus headache, which then proceeded into coughing…The same thing happened last Friday (my first attempt at going to the desired destination), only with sneezing and a stomach-ache…I took a non-drowsy decongestant only to wind up falling asleep for a half an hour or so.

By the time I woke up, I felt like my whole day was wasted. Even though that wasn’t the case. Sure, it was noon, maybe 12:30 at the latest (I honestly can’t remember) and I didn’t accomplish the goal I’d been trying to complete since last week, but it’s not a waste of a day if you do what needs to be done to get your day started then chill out and relax, in hopes of feeling better. I did everything I needed to do and other things around the house, then proceeded turn on my Dell and watch something on Netflix.

After watching a long assortment of the paranormal misadventures of Sam and Dean Winchester on Supernatural, using countless Kleenex, and self-medicating with three decongestants, I can say that I do feel a little better. Not much. That sounds horrible because I’ve been trying to feel better the majority of the day and right when I start to feel good, it goes downhill. The fact that I’m only feeling a little better can be blamed for the other evident fact that I cannot fall asleep. Sure, my eyes are starting to get a little heavy and my muscles are sore from coughing, but I don’t feel drowsiness envelop me yet.

And I take that back. Okay, I don’t totally take it back because the feeling just hit me, but you get the idea. The warmth from the heat coming from the vent in my room blowing directly onto me just a couple of seconds ago was honestly making me tired. Not to mention the fact that I’m cold. I have my Emily The Strange blanket my best friend bought me some 8 years ago, but that doesn’t seem to be doing me any justice.

I feel like this whole post I just wrote is about how horrible I felt today…And I did. Sometimes I feel like I should sugarcoat things as far as my health goes because I don’t want to have a sympathy for the devil thing going on, but today was nothing serious. Just a cold, everyone gets them. Unless of course you happen to have an amazing immune system or are some kind of superhero. While the latter is the most absurd of notions, it is far more interesting than the immune system. Now I’m just rambling mindlessly because I’m tired.

It’s 5:44 a.m. on this Saturday morning, sixteen minutes until 6 a.m. The warmth from the vent is making another appearance, and I’m going to take that as a way of my house letting me know I should hit the hay…And by typing what I just did, I think it’s a good idea that I go to bed.

My body is my worst enemy…

Sleep is the best medicine.

Newsflash From “Heaven”: I’ve Descended Into “Hell”

There’s something that makes every one of us on this Earth question things that we don’t understand, can’t understand or just simply refuse to…Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that it’s safe to say that the concept of religion has always been something that’s second-guessed or questioned.

And if I question that, then what kind of person does that make me?

I honestly never used to question religion. It just wasn’t something that was questioned. You just go with it, and think that it’s something you personally believe. After awhile, it’s all you’re willing to believe. No one can change your mind; your heart is set on that way of life. It can turn you into something you’re truly not, while on the other hand can bring a whole new perspective on things. Which ever you may choose, there’s always questions that will arise that are going to make some wonder and others won’t even pay attention to.

I first started to question religion, being the foundation for my day-in, day-out education at school. I’d been at a Catholic school from Kindergarten to the first half of the 6th grade, and being at a Catholic school, I’d have to go to church every Friday with the rest of my class. There wasn’t an option of not going, and I honestly didn’t mind. We would be rewarded if we were good, anyway. I remember in Kindergarten, I literally thought the priest at my school’s church was a cannibal. I literally thought that when he said the “body and blood”, he really did mean the body and blood of someone. How crazy is that? Really?

What kind of person does that make me?

I began to ask questions about the religion that I’d learned about five days a week and sometimes on Sundays. Whether the questions made sense or not, I have no idea. They probably made absolutely no sense, the reason why no one could give me a straight answer. The questions made all the sense to me though. If Jesus died for everyone’s sins, why do people still sin? I distinctly remember that was one of the questions I’d asked. Yeah, a pretty stupid question. All my teachers probably thought it was, or maybe they thought I was crazy or something. I look back on that now, and think that it was a pretty foolish, but it also makes me realize that any other outrageous question I had would be let right in with all the eagerness, only to be shot down for being utterly stupid.

Now what does all this grade-school reminiscing have to do with my feelings toward religion now? It proves that there are questions that either can’t be answered or are being pushed under the rug. Let’s face it, who wants to believe in something that can’t be answered or proven? I don’t mean to judge anyone here. What the next person believes may not be what I believe, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna jump down their throats about it. That would just be ignorant, and I absolutely hate ignorance. People are more than entitled to have their own beliefs and opinions, despite what other individuals think or say. I firmly believe in that, and truly have the utmost respect for that fact.

I would be much more comfortable knowing that what I’m believing in is, well, worth believing in. Sometimes, I believed that there possibly could be a God, but there are things that come in the way me truly accepting that fact. There are facts and reasonings that are so hypocritical and no way near logical. Say one thing and it doesn’t add up to what’s being said next…Yeah, that makes a hell of a lot of sense…I myself have a hard time agreeing and believing everything I hear because it all just doesn’t sit right with me as a whole. I suppose somethings could be plausible, but that still leaves others unaccounted for and to me, that isn’t good enough.

What kind of person does that make me?

I’ve been asking that question all though this post…What kind of person does that make me? Honestly, it makes me a goddamn human being. Most would say that questions and questioning isn’t the way to go because it will either get you nowhere or everywhere you don’t want to be, but I don’t find that the case. People don’t know if there is indeed a ‘Heaven’ or ‘Hell’ because no one has ever been there. Some are so fixated on something they’ve been feed throughout the years or what have you, and can’t comprehend that maybe there isn’t anything after you die. Maybe there is just nothingness, a creeping sense of darkness that’s just out of our reach with every passing second. Maybe not. ..Does death scare me? Damn right it does. Do I believe in something after death? I’m not sure. There could be something amazing beyond anything we’ve ever seen above and something else amazing in quite another sense of the word way down below, but who am I to know? Exactly. I have absolutely no idea and I think it’s best that way.

If people really (and I mean really truly) knew what happens when you die, they wouldn’t take any risks. If people knew what happened when you die, they wouldn’t be living. The entire point of living is taking risks and taking whatever comes at you, not matter the speeds or intensities. I think that knowing where you’re going to go when you die, totally dictates one’s risk-taking and therefore the entire concept of Life. Some people live that way already out of faith or whatever you choose, and that is entirely their choice. I have absolutely nothing against people with healthy convictions in what they believe in. I think it’s the best thing in the world, please just don’t try to press it on me. While some completely discreet and totally polite about brandishing their beliefs, not pressuring others at all, there are other people that think they know everything that the afterlife has to offer (or religion in general for that matter), down to every detail and I personally don’t believe any of it. Yeah, that probably sounds pretty bad, but notice the things I’ve said so far. My brutal, honest opinion.

I honestly don’t believe what people have to say about what it will be like when you die because they don’t know, they’ve never been there. No one knows, no ones ever been there. Unless of course with the exception of a near-death experience, that’s the closest thing to the afterlife you can get without feeling death unfortunately pull you out of this natural life permanently. Other than that exception, I don’t believe.

I love how the subject goes from the disbelief concerning religion to the disbelief an afterlife. They’re two different subjects that sometimes (maybe more often than none) become intertwined and discussed on the same playing field. I suppose that this is no exception to the conversations on the subjects that came before it. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I honestly don’t know.

When all is said and done, I just don’t believe…Yeah, it might sound like I’m just another teenager (technically I’m not really a teenager anymore, but whatever) who listens to death metal and is ‘brainwashed’ by the ‘Satanic’ lyrics, but I’m here to clarify. While I do listen to my fair shares of black/death/heavy metal, my musical preferences in no way impact my views on religion or the afterlife, as which was mentioned earlier…Or rather there isn’t anything good enough for me to believe in. That probably sounds pretty arrogant and whether arrogance plays a part at all or not, it’s true. I don’t think it’s that there’s nothing good enough for me to believe but actually nothing I feel comfortable really believing in. Hopefully there will come a time when I find something that I indeed feel comfortable enough with to believe in without questioning or second-guessing. Until then, only time will tell.

So I ask you now, as I’ve been asking throughout this entire post…

What kind of person does that make me?

Newsflash from “Heaven”: I’ve surely descended into “Hell”.

Third Day Of My Last Year

It’s Monday. The third day of my last year. I’m starting to really annoy myself when I think that. The third day of my last year…It sounds like I’m gonna die next year or something. How horrible. I still can’t get my head around the fact that I’m a senior, though. Getting past that totally annoying saying that I have to not say anymore…Yes, it is indeed Monday. And this Monday, I actually had fun in gym.

Last night and this morning, I felt, well not the best. Since the weather is deciding to go to from really warm to really chilly, my allergies and asthma were acting up. Not very cool, believe me. I feel asleep on the couch in our living room, which is something I never do on school nights. Well, I do, just not when I’m fully ready to sleep in my own bed. I feel asleep on the couch, with a chocolate brown fleece blanket over me, watching the show Monsters Inside Me. I don’t know if I fell asleep because I was tired or because of the really gross cases on the show. People were getting sick from bugs that were inside them. Actually inside them…I’m surprised I even slept.

I woke up a little later than I’d hoped, but I still woke up. I was feeling better. Still hurting in some places, but I was ok enough to go to school. I took a shower, got dressed, ate, fooled around with my hair, and did an asthma treatment. A big asthma treatment. The same asthma treatment that made me leave for school later than I usually would have, but it wasn’t really a big deal. I could hardly get into school anyway.

I stood there, in front of school, with countless other people, waiting to get into school. It wasn’t raining like it had been on Friday, which was good. It was actually a pleasant morning to be standing outside. If only I wasn’t at school…I watched people cut in front of other people. I didn’t cut in front of anyone, or at least I tried not too. I was just standing there, listening to AFI’s new single “Medicate”. I must have listened to it more than 5 times while waiting in the make-shift lines. A couple more in between classes through out the day. Finally, I made it into school. 20 minutes late, but I made it. My first period teacher was surprisingly ok with the fact that I was late. Others filed in after me a couple minutes later.

Most of this really sunny, chilly Monday was ordinary. All of my classes going by really quick, which is pretty normal because I only have 6 classes this year. English seemed to drag on, though. Probably because we weren’t doing anything. People were sitting there, holding their own conversations, while my teacher took attendance. He said something about handing us out books, but I guess there are more people coming in. Speaking about people coming into class, my French class was insane! There seemed like there were alot more people as oppose to Friday. The maximum capacity is, like, 25 and I think it might have been exceeded or will be soon.

The bell that ended English rang fashionably late, as I’m thinking it will all year. Lunch went by fast. I didn’t get lunch today, even though I told myself I would today. I just didn’t feel like getting up. My laziness for ya. I wished that I’d remembered to take my Amp energy drink out of the fridge before I left this morning. The bell that ended lunch was also, fashionably late. I walked into gym, dreading it a little.

The gym, for some reason, didn’t look as big as it did last week. Maybe the reason why my dread wasn’t so strong as it before. Now, I don’t hate gym at all. I love gym. I love playing volleyball. In my eyes, it’s the best stress reliever. Especially, if I’m having a bad day. I pretend the ball is someone’s head. Always works to relieve stress for me. I sat by this girl from my English class, Mariah, and my friend from freshmen year, Alyssa. After it took my gym teacher what seemed like forever to take attendance, the three of us decided to play ping pong.

At first, I wasn’t too sure if I should play because of my breathing, but it was fine all day, so I figured what the hell? Not the best move on my part, but I know my limits. I know what I can and can’t do. Mariah and Alyssa played a game of ping pong first. I was just watching against the bleachers. When they finished playing, I played Mariah. I honestly didn’t know how good I was at ping pong. I’d never played it to know whether I was good or not. I guess I’m a little too talented, I hit the ball up so high, it got stuck in between the upper part of the bleachers. We asked the other gym teacher if we could go get it, and she let us. All three of us walked up the steps next to the boys’ lockeroom, and found ourselves actually on top of the bleachers. I’d never been up there before, only of my firsts as a senior. After we got the ball, Alyssa and I played a game. Once again, I guess I was good. I didn’t get it up on top the bleachers again, which was good, but I barely missed the ball, either. I was what Alyssa called a “beast”.

Even when we were playing volleyball, two against one, I was still a “beast”. Two on one isn’t fair, but it’s how we played. I wished we had another player, but there wasn’t anyone else I knew and all the other individuals in the gym were preoccupied with their own things, and I’m very shy. People I don’t know + Being shy = Being very, very shy…I wasn’t as rusty as I thought I would be. The last time I’d played volleyball was in May, when my one teacher wasn’t there and my class had to go to the gym. Every serve Mariah hit to me, I hit. I never knew I had such an intensity for volleyball. I never missed a hit, with the exception of the soft ones or the ones that went over my head. And me being so tiny, it’s not that hard. The first 5, maybe 10 minutes of playing, my wrists were red. It didn’t bother me, though. It’s the only sport I’m relatively good at, so I figured at a little pain and soreness is worth it. We played until my gym teacher told us to put the ball up. My wrists were still red. My last bell of the day rang. Fashionably late, of course.

I walked home in the beauty and coolness of the afternoon sun, my wrists still red, still listening to “Medicate”. Today, I surprisingly learned alot. People who seemed like, not nice people, turn out to be ok. French is wayyy too crowded. My art teacher will not be at school this Friday. My English class has more people, and we will slowly, but surely be learning something soon. I write too much when my Health teacher only asked for 3 to 5 sentences. I have listened to AFI’s new single too many times. Wayyy too many times. That’s my Monday.

I guess I’m a “beast”.