Several things

1. Breathlessness

It's been happening for a few months now: random moments when I feel like I can't get enough air (...no air, no aaair...), and sadly, no, it's not because there chances to be a parade of hot, British men in 19th century costume passing by.

fig. 1. Parade of hot, British men (or rather, one man: Blake Ritson. He looks like a cross between Brendon Urie and Adrien Brody! Strange but cool. EEEEEEEE. You have to excuse me. I just watched Persuasion and Mansfield Park in one sitting. Oh, gawsh. I'm already becoming an old spinster who sits at home with her box of tissues and sniffles over Jane Austen all day. Help! Ah! Ack! Oh, but Blake is so prettyyy XD...and strangely emo-looking for an Austen adaptation?!)

Anyhow, in regards to the breathlessness, after I ruled out the possibility that it was due to me hyperventilating over eye-candy (since said eye-candy was, woefully, not present), I narrowed the causes down to three: asthma, iron-deficiency and hypochondrism (is that a word?).

In essence I've decided I must have become something of an interminable hypochondriac in recent days, because, honestly--my (mild, childhood, now regressed) asthma and my (also mild, non-significant, temporary) lack of iron/B12/folate/good old fashioned lovin' are probably not severe enough to cause me any physical manifestations, per se. And being a newly actualised hypochondriac is providentially in line with my next topic in this lovely rant (gosh, reading Alexandre Dumas has done wonders for making my writing sound all pompous and wordy! I love it!); hence I am led on to part deux...

2. Apathy

I hate the way we're all so subject to our emotions. In fact, what we do is practically a slave to how we feel. I feel bored; therefore, no matter how hard I try, I cannot and will not force myself to study. Or maybe it's because I'm just weak-willed. I think I've grown into more of a person that is happier to simply go with the flow, which can be both a good and a bad thing. Less discipline, more dreaminess. At the moment I am sick to death of study, and unlike neuro or physiology or cardio, the current course content isn't helping in the least to pique my interest, either.

I have a ton of other things I'm spending my time on, in a constant half-dazed state, with little fear of the consequences of slacking off--and that is scaring me a little (in the back of my fuzzy, romantic mind). I look at people around me who appear to be constantly driven, or active, or bright and bubbly, or sociable, or disciplined, and I am amazed at the myriad of different personalities, and also in admiration of their talents.

If I could have my right now just the way I want it, I doubt I would be here at all. I would be studying Literature or mythology or something beautiful and useless, and visiting Rome and Egypt, and reading until my eyes dried up. I don't think I'd choose to be studying medicine at all. And that's terrifying, because med is something I do want, dearly. There's no future in that Other Life. There's also no point in it, no good to come out of it. That is that.

3. Homo Sapiens

I've said that I admire people who can be almost perpetually bright and bubbly, because when I look at myself (and back on scant blog posts) I feel that I, whether unintentionally or intentionally, present as a pretty pessimistic person. (Even though I'm constantly told that I always smile. Dammit--normal people smile when they talk! Don't they?!)

Maybe I'm sceptical because I view people and I see a reflection of my own negative attributes in them, and I feel--disappointed? Not quite disgusted, that's too strong. Apathetic, perhaps. Detached. I don't have that thrive and enthusiasm to meet people that many of my friends posess. I had it in first year uni. To be excited to meet new people, you have to possess a certain optimism in the integrity of human character. You have to believe that there's a more than likely chance that the person you're being introduced to is a nice chap/lass. Hehe.

Anyway, human relationship is probably the most philosophised, agonised, mulled over, argued, analysed and emotionalised topic in the history of mankind. And my contribution matters little, except to me. Perhaps by becoming apathetic to the world around me I'm sort of withdrawing into my cocoon--a protective mechanism, yes, but also formulating a foundation for myself. I need to find a surety in myself and in my future. Do I really know who I am and where I see myself in the next few years? Could I live, alone, one single person in this wide world, and be confident in that? Where am I from? What are my roots? My family: I have a sudden longing to savour their presence before any of them are taken away from me. It could happen any day. And old friends. I've already said this, but dinner and poker at Mel's apartment was the absolute best, except for the argument. But I loved it. It was like a second family.

It's easy to point out people's flaws. I'm great at it. My own, my friends', my family's, those of people who push onto the bus at AMSA. But I know I set my expectations way too high. We're not called to be selfless angels. There's only so much that each person can do. We can't save the world or dissolve heartache or figure out the problems of mankind. Mostly what we just do is simply--exist. And that's enough, I think.

And my own flaws? Let's not go into that today; this post is already far too long! I think I should allow myself one thing, though: to be emotional, sometimes. I'm supposed to write long, mushy blog posts; to overanalyse things; to dream and hope. I am a nineteen year old girl, not a man of steel. Yep, we are the gentler sex, but not weaker for it.

That being said, I still believe you should never allow your emotions to be the prime factor in how you behave. Head over heart. Grr. -goes back to being a grizzly bear-

More next time.