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Finding a Voice. Literally.

December 7th, 2011 (07:05 pm)

I, Cat Rokkit, again feel extremely thankful to have had my counselor come into my life. Like, profoundly thankful. I guess I had been waiting nearly my whole life for someone to show me that I don't need permission to consider myself a good person. I can make mistakes and still be a good person. I can say good things about myself. That's not arrogant, at least not inherently. I am a good person! I just am.

I am a good person who is still learning how to manage the anxiety I feel about college. OMG, LIGHTBULB - The difficulty I had in college ever since the first day of class, it's my assumption that everyone is judging me. Each minor hiccup appeared to me evidence that even my best wouldn't hold up to the judgement of my professors. The idea is still too fresh for me to articulate fully, but I understand more of what created the dichotomy between my high school self still being productive despite improperly framed thinking and my college self, whom I assumed to have the same thought frame, seeming to suddenly become unproductive. By the end if high school, I ran out of confidence in my ability to do, like, anything. I am going to start believing my own hype. I totally can do hard shit. With my eyes closed (the only way I thought, like, counted)? Not relevant. If bake a key lime pie and everyone says it's delicious and they eat the whole thing, did I bake it any less because I used the recipe on the lime juice label? Did it taste any less delicious because it's simple to bake?

Wait, I think I've lost the metaphor. What I'm saying is that it doesn't matter that my brother got a perfect verbal score on the SATs. It doesn't matter that he could've aced it with his eyes closed. It doesn't matter that the times he magically pulls the right factoid from the ether are the only times I can remember. Not the times we kept pace in conversation, not the times I had something faster or more accurate. I just looked up the scoring percentiles and my score is in the 93rd percentile. Jiminy Christmas! I'm glad I did that. "I, Cat Rokkit, am glad I looked up the percentile in which my SAT score ranked. It's ridic high ^ㅂ^" Jiminy Christmas squared. I was going to continue on the subject of "IT DOESN'T MATTER" but now I don't feel like I need to. High five!

I'm thankful for new ways of determining my self-worth. Yesterday, the amount of work I have accomplished decreased only slightly. But I didn't get that stony feeling in my stomach that usually comes with less than ideal productivity. I said, "Ok, now we know that working in the basement with the tv off is equivalent to working in my bedroom and we can take it off the list of possible work environs." The encouraging part? It wasn't forced. I didn't wake up feeling like some mouth-breathing cretin undeserving of sympathy. I just thought "Ok. Today I'll try again." It's called splitting, right? When a person treats all situations as being black-or-white, all-or-nothing. I didn't do that today. And right now I'm skipping class. But the weird part is that I don't feel guilty about it. I don't feel giddy, like I'm getting away with some naughty trick. I am skipping because I need to do my work. If I go to class, I'm going to spend 195 minutes pretending to not be messing around on my iPad. I am confused as to now I'll be able to learn about technology in the classroom in a classroom sans technology. Now am I going to learn the ins and outs of, say, Clicker 5, in a room without even so much as a wall clock (let alone a computer or even an overhead projector). Anyway. I spent the day not feeling like a jerk because I based my self-worth on the amount of homework I did the night before. It was nice! I didn't feel like my bones were planning to flee my body.

Alright, alright. Essay time.