Perhaps the point of making sure a personal blogs works has a lot to do with the length of the posts. I can write non-stop if time and energy permitted. I don't admit this because I claim to love writing that much. My mind just functions at hyper speed at times. I can subject hop a lot. As a student, my biggest difficulty after procrastination is my inability to remain focused and consistent with my ideas. I find that most people joke about their inability to concentrate on certain tasks or thoughts, but I write about it very seriously. I've suffered a lot because I can't stay consistent on paper/screen or in real life. I survived an entire school year with decent colours because I treated every single week as a challenge. There were times when I would've found myself defeated for the 5th time, but I sought help and followed through for once because I put a lot more energy than ever before in the belief that I can succeed. Of course, I could've done better. Nevertheless, I passed and I can only take it slowly and positively from where I last left my quiet ambition.

I finished the requirements for my first degree, my B.A. in General Arts in April. I've not officially graduated, however, because I have yet to pay the remaining $3000 of my tuition from last year.

Since April, I've looked steadily for work between April and July. In the middle of July, I started to fall apart and you can say I gave up. The last month and a half have been calm in the way boring and pointless days spent at home, on the internet, ect. are. My high point were my Level 2 French classes which required a four hour commute (to and from) every Saturday. Every Saturday morning, I'd muster up the courage to wake up at a ridiculous hour and happily attend my six hour class that I (I won't lie) thoroughly enjoyed after what were normally 6 days of absolute boredom and anxiety. Weekdays have been spent in worry and anticipation for that grand moment when a potential employer will call with my name in mind. Somehow, I will turn into this wonderfully confident woman who has a lot to sell. Everytime I am rejected and everytime a week goes by and the phone doesn't ring after what has now been months, my aparent confidence breaks down even more. And I will not lie here: since mid-July, I've not spent a lot of my time and energy looking for work. On average, I will probably accomplish 1 application a week, where as I previously would accomplish four in a single day. I could take the pressure associated with being unemployed with such a huge financial burden on my chest if I had some sort of encouragement from home. My father is worried about my situation, but instead of pushing me to continue trying, he only pokes at how incapable I am at basically everything. So I feel so inexpressably stuck. Here I am, all anxiety ridden about every possible thing one can imagine. I have anxiety disorder and it's not treated in anyway (partly because I can't afford it). And here is this atmosphere at home, in which fights occur every fucking day. Often, I am the topic. Most of the time, it can be anything, from the imperfect food to the weather and especially his seemingly incompetent family members. I can never explain the situation in a way that others can actually empathize because it's impossible to give words to the kind of anger he shows to such simple and trivial matters. No one can be right against him. And what hurts most is that, in that anger, he really cannot identify with anybody, his wife, his flesh and blood, my grandfather. I want to be more compassionate but I've lived far too many years in fear of what the next day would bring. I can clearly remember the days in my earlier childhood when my father didn't express some sort of frustration overtly and take it out on my mother or us. I still remember because those were the days that were actually entirely happy. I know my words about my father and his mood swings express my anger towards him but really, I just want him to be OK. I love him a lot and I love the rest of my family as a unit even more. I want there to be peace and I've always wanted this, ever since we moved to Canada and lived together. I never expected family ties to come with no pain but being 23 and still experiencing some of the emotions I feared as a child is a bit ludicrous at times.

The only solution I have is to fake it until I make it. I suppose this includes the dilemmas I have to deal with at home, although, mostly the challenge with my family feels impossible. I have stupid traditions that no one (not even in India) follows anymore being thrown at me like I was actually raised in a village. My father can be really difficult at times and my grandparents don't help in those times but only contribute to whatever the problem maybe. No one feels comfortable with me wearing certain clothes, being out at night, leaving the city or house at night, or doing anything that tickles my fancy just for fun because they don't understand the concept of fun for fun's sake. To them, and by them I mean the older patriarchs, making crude comments about other people who could not give two fucks about our family and discussing their familial troubles. There is the occassional racist slurr being swung. And evidently, there is also religious "slurr" that is also swung from time to time.

Most people I know who come from South Asian families (first-generation) simply rebel. I totally surpassed that phase in my life at 14 when I decided that I was in the wrong. I also realized my father would never understand my cultural language. The biggest problem I have now though, is that they expect me to suddenly be OK with myself. Like, I get criticized for not being social or more approachable at events. I'm compared constantly to other people my age, who were actually given the privelege of hanging out with other people when they were growing up as teenagers. The second most important time for an individual to develop their social abilities is during the time of adolescence and he totally stripped that away from me. Now he expects me to be a diplomatic diva. Fuck, I would love to be diplomatic and my true soul with people around me. But let me remind you, I have anxiety disorder and it fucking sucks to communicate to people who I don't see everyday and feel absolutely comfortable with. It doesn't mean I can't do it, but it does mean that it takes a shit load of more time for me than it does the random odd ball who's developmental processes occured perfectly fine! Dear Lord, save my soul. When do I get a little compassion here? Is that the consequence of being born into a totally impoverished family to having 24/7 access to Canadian water? Was the entire process far too easy? If life wasn't like this, would I have somehow been different and ignorant? I honestly don't think that would've been the case, but some force out there certainly believes it.

That was the angry part of today's entry. So I conclude that I need to fake it. The only problem is, and I seriously wish someone would just hear me out, I don't know if I can. I'm scared. I sit in my room sometimes and I want to die. I actually can't breathe properly at times because the pressure just builds and  I find myself nowhere and alone, constantly. I have very few friends and none that I could've relied on for so long. I have one but I'm not comfortable with personal expression anymore. In high school, it was so easy until my best friend blatantly told me I was weak and I realized that was uncomfortable feedback so I withdrew from expressing my home life to her. Now I rely on Krishu but he can't take on the additional worry. I get upset because I'm supposed to be able to discuss things with him and he ought to be able to discuss these matters with me. But can I blame him? He's under pressure constantly. His relationship is supposed to be his paradise. I feel worse when I can't provide that for him anymore. I've officially become weak, like my friend said. Alone. An island. And I know some of the things I want but I can't have them.

So really, one has to "fake" it. In other news, this entry was supposed to be focused and short. I was supposed to write about my new plans associated with my job search and filling up my schedule. Instead, I've just crashed into my emotions. Even talking to a good friend makes me feel anxious. It's really pathetic and unhealthy but there are only about 5 people in the world that I feel comfortable around. And my father is not one of them. In fact, he's at the top of the list when it comes to people I encounter but don't feel comfortable around at all. That recurring feeling makes me so sad. I want my dad to be what I call him, my daddy.

What a rant! Good night, reader.

I think that is as far as I'll go for tonight after all. It's quite late. I just spoke to someone very dear to me and I guess I should crash too.