Adventures of the sad panda (or What the f*** did I get myself into?!)

I know, it's been a while and I'm sorry about that. There has simply been a lot going on, in my head at least, since we all know I have virtually no social life.
Big surprise, I am a little less than happy right now. In fact, I would say that I am outright depressed. Actually, and I'm writing this knowing perfectly that most of you will view me as weak/sad/pathetic, I have been crying for at least once a day (with the occasional dry days in between) for a good two weeks. So, my crying has been gradually increasing for almost a year. Since I would like to celebrate such a depressing twist, let's take a look back to how the mighty have fallen...
As some of you may be aware, I am currently working on my MA in Germany. Why? Because I can and because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Back in September 2012 all I wanted to do was make more use of my education and not waste away at work (I won't name my employer here because a) I don't want a lawsuit on my hands and b) I might get stuck having to work there again), so I saved up money, took the GRE, applied for grad school in Germany and got accepted, and left. I was so happy and hopeful, until I showed up at the school and found out that I wasn't fully enrolled yet. And so, with about two weeks until classes were supposed to start, both my parents and I started to freak out, and too much money was spent on getting all of the necessary paperwork sent and turned in. Let's just say, if I had known then, what I know now, I would have scheduled a return flight home right then (yes, to my parents and the kitties, don't judge!) and sent out applications to various grad schools in the US. But noooo, no tuition fees and better/cheaper health insurance and weight loss and family yadayadayada... It was gonna be greeeeaaaat!!!! Eventually it all got worked out and I was excited to be back at school and doing something productive/beneficial for myself and my future.
However, this feeling of joy quickly became disrupted once I realized that outside of the dying breed of Magister students, who need more time to acquire their degrees and typically are in their late 20s/early 30s, I was easily the oldest out of the bunch. This wouldn't have really mattered, if it hadn't been pointed out to me that my Japanese sucked monkey balls. (Okay, nobody actually said that verbatim, but it had been brought to my attention that my Japanese skills just weren't that great. They still aren't.)
Despite these devastating realizations, I continued to work hard and was rewarded with...mediocre grades (because one professor took sympathy on me) and my first German research paper being so terribly written that that particular professor couldn't even grade it (I was offered to rewrite it in English, but have since given up because I keep on running into this huge mental wall with FAILURE sprayed all over it in neon paint). So, the first semester was a complete failure academically-speaking, but it was still fun overall (I met a few really great people, I actually had some semblance of a social life, I was starting to lose weight, and I even managed to wean myself off of my anti-depressants) and I learned my lesson, which resulted in me overcompensating during the second semester with an overfull class schedule (one that included two Japanese language courses back-to-back because I'm obviously a masochist).
The first half of the second semester was still great, and then something happened during the course of the second half that started to cause a bit of a disconnect. I still felt fine most of the time, but I started to care less about my classes. At the time, I thought it was simply the sight of seeing other people being openly happen during late spring/early summer, combined with me not being able to sleep properly due to the warm weather (you don't want to know what I had to do in order to be able to fall asleep), that was causing me to feel sad and frustrated. So, I looked forward to visiting my parents in the summer/fall.
While this first visit had its ups and downs, and I wound up eating too much fast food, I was glad to be around my cat (and of course the other feline family members) and I felt my sense of normalcy slowly being restored. Unfortunately, this feeling was also accompanied by the anxiety caused by me trying (and failing miserably) to research for and type up three separate research papers. No, I wasn't able to finish any of them, so don't even ask. As much as I secretly didn't want to return to Germany, I tried to tell myself that I was practically halfway done, so I should just keep on fighting and everything would be alright.
The third semester started off okay. Except that I had yet again taken on too many courses and quickly found myself running on empty and working off of an extremely messed-up sleep cycle (some nights I skipped sleep altogether in favor of studying). I hardly engaged in any kind of social activity, when I was available nobody else was, and when the others actually wanted to do something, I just wasn't in the mood (or didn't have the funds). This past semester also saw the return of a particularly bad habit of mine: skipping classes. I think I missed a total of three, maybe four, weeks worth of classes. Why? Because I started to care even less than I did during the spring/summer. Besides, my crying also started to pick up and I didn't necessarily want to have everyone and their mother see me sob for no apparent reason.
As if classes and my own personal issues weren't already enough to contend with, I stupidly decided/agreed to apply for various exchange programs. The month, and the week in particular, leading up to my second US visit I was running myself beyond ragged. Between getting everything ready for my trip, filling out paperwork for one of those exchange programs, and spending hours in one of the university's libraries working on take home assignments and exams, I oftentimes didn't know what I was doing or what I had already taken care of or what still needed to be done. I managed to not jump off a building by writing down what had to be done each day. If you needed me to plan anything past that day, I couldn't because I was never sure how much I would be able to accomplish within the next 24 hours. I kid you not, if my inner me actually had a voice, she would've been screaming at me non-stop.
My second visit was again spent with the kitties and the parents, but it was also mostly spent contemplating the near future. During this downtime, I came to realize that I was actually dreading the beginning of the next semester. This time around, I really didn't want to go back. However, I didn't want to say anything at the time because I felt like that was a selfish thing to think. (How dare I not want to go back? What about the friends I met over there? What about the professors? Your parents are going to be so disappointed. That would be quitting and you don't quit. You're so ungrateful and selfish, not everyone gets this kind of an opportunity.) The problem is: It's stopped being fun, it's stopped being interesting, it's stopped being motivating. This is what my life looks like: I go to classes. I go back to the apartment. At least once a week I have to buy groceries. I have to ask my parents for money at least twice a month. Even though I do try to look for it on a regular basis, work isn't really an option because if I'm not in class, I'm doing homework and studying, which actually takes up more time than one would think. Today's the first day of classes and I'm dreading going. I just don't want to go. Practically everyone I know will be done studying by the end of this semester. When I return to/am in my apartment, I am alone. No cats, no room mates, just me and my thoughts. On my days off, I usually sleep until 10, sometimes even until 1 because there is no motivation to get up (compare this to my US wake-up times of 8-10). In addition to that, I am now stuck in this mess of preparing for this exchange to Japan, which I have been regretting since February. Sure, I was excited at first, but let's be honest: It's a lot of stress for something expensive that won't count for squat on my transcript, but maybe, just maybe, will look decent on my resume. Besides, I know me, I probably won't do anything over there anyways. It just seems more and more like it's just going to be a semester of me sitting around, in a different setting mind you, possibly improving my Japanese skills and delaying my graduation by another semester because, from the sounds of things, a semester won't be long enough to take classes that can be counted towards my degree. So yeah, worth it, but not really worth it. I'm still thinking about whether or not I want to go through with this, and as of right now, I'm thisclose to calling it off and just going to Japan on my own schedule (while I'm not feeling pressured to finish school in a timely fashion).
Of course, these feelings don't mean that I'm going to break off my MA studies. Regardless of how depressed I've been feeling, this isn't even an option. I have been looking at my options though, such as switching to a university stateside. Unfortunately, it seems that I am out of luck in that department. One of the schools I looked at doesn't admit students in the spring, and the director went ahead to inform me that, even if I did by some miracle get accepted into their program, only a maximum of three of my courses would get transferred. As for the other school I looked at, despite a promising start, since they do actually accept spring admissions, they aren't accepting anymore applicants for the Japanese part of their program and I am lacking the language skills for the other tracks they offer. So, I either risk waiting and losing a huge chunk of my course work, or I am stuck here.
Since it seems very likely that I will have to stay here, I have been rethinking the promise I made to myself last year about never taking anti-depressants again (not unless absolutely necessary). Unfortunately, it seems like it might be necessary after all. My only problem is that Germany still hasn't completely opened itself up to the notion of depression yet. Not everyone here is anti (even though here you won't really hear talks about depression, here it's more about burn-outs), but there is still a bit of a stigma attached to it, so I'm not sure if I really feel like fighting with my doctor or any therapists about something like this.
Anyways, that's it for me. Sorry for being such a downer... I would like to say that the next post will be something uplifting, but I'm just not feeling it. 
Talk to you guys later.

Online dating (Episode One): Holy phone-y awkwardness!

Yeah, I know, not my best title. But hey, it's my blog, so I can come up with crappy titles. Anywho, for those of you who don't know (and somehow magically care), I set up accounts on two different online dating sites a little over a month ago. Why? Because I'm a lonely person, my last relationship ended in 2008 (lolz...last relationship...as if I have such an extensive dating history...nuns get more action than I do...oops, sorry?...), and I obviously fail at life. I won't regale you with the details now. Maybe I'll type that story up as a prequel at some point in the future, but on to the present...
So, like I mentioned, I am now a part of the online dating community and, oddly enough, do get the occasional message. A couple of weeks ago I started messaging two guys on a semi-regular basis: one of them more desirable due to proximity, one of them more desirable based off of the number of "MPs" (i.e.: matching points - the higher the number of MPs, the more compatible the two people supposedly are), one of them a bit more...for lack of a better word at this point...opinionated, one of them almost annoyingly upbeat, neither one of them seemingly able to provide a decent picture of their face (very superficial of me, I know, but I like to look at eyes and lips...not only at full-body pics...oh well, better than the guys who don't provide any pictures at all, I guess...and yes, I put up a picture of myself...and yes, it's actually of me and not someone like Megan Fox/Charlize Theron/Stana Katic/my sister/etc...not that I would ever think about doing that).
After exchanging a few messages, one of the guys asked me about my stance on phone calls, so I tried to be honest without being a complete buzzkill. Some of you are probably already aware of this, but conversing via the phone is not my strong suit, not unless the person on the other end is Miss Chatty Cathy. I'm a good listener, I like to listen, and if you ask me questions, I will answer (most of the time). However, actively talking to a faceless voice? Not really my cup of tea. I prefer e-mail and face-to-face conversations (text messaging and Skype don't count). I did provide him with my cellphone number because I figured "What the hell! He's probably not gonna call anyways." Lo and behold, I didn't hear anything from him for almost a week...and then my phone rang earlier today (or yesterday evening, depending on when I get around to publishing this entry). Yes, it was him. He has a pleasant voice, which is good, and the beginning of our conversation went over well...until it was my turn to ask him something. So what did I do? Essentially it was "Tell me something about yourself. About your background." Why the f*** would I say something stupid like that?! It initially made sense to me because we had been talking a bit about my background, so why not ask him about his. Besides, I wasn't actually counting on him calling anymore, so you're going to have to forgive me for being caught off guard (at least a little bit). But yes, it was a bit of a rookie mistake (I guess?), and I was chastised for it. Supposedly, you can't just sit down next to someone and say something like that. I guess in the world of dating and relationships that's a big no-no...maybe even in general. Considering that we're still getting to know each other and that this was our first phone call, I wasn't really expecting to receive a lesson on etiquette. Well, not really etiquette in that sense, but kinda. As a result, I felt mildly aggravated and humiliated and a part of me just wanted to pull the emergency brake and get off the train at that point. In retrospect (since it's already been like seven hours), the feeling reminded me a bit of when I was younger and had to listen to my father lecture me on something that most people probably wouldn't have even noticed (or if they had, they would've made their slight disapproval known in a slightly less grand manner...my father isn't actually a bad guy...no seriously, he's not). Of course, now I'm thinking "Great! You make me feel stupid, just like my father and grandmother did/do occasionally... Let's get married!" We talked for a bit afterwards (I'll spare you the details), and as we encountered another incredibly awkward moment of silence, I decided to use it to end the conversation. I told him that I needed to make dinner (which I did), and asked him if we should set up a time for another phone call (supposedly, I can call him whenever...which kinda irks me...just a bit...it's kinda a lackadaisical attitude). Right now, I just get the feeling that he might belong to the group of people who have a tendency to talk down to me, but I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt because we haven't actually met in person. Who knows, maybe things will get better once I've gotten used to talking to him... I'm just not overly optimistic (I mean, optimistic according to my standards) about this right now.
Oh well, it's not like I know how this dating stuff works. I had to actively pursue my last boyfriend, and the only other relationships I had were during elementary school, so a looooooong time ago (Those were so much easier: "Hey! I like the way you run. Do you wanna be my girlfriend?" *sigh* I'm so old...).
So yeah, that was my super depressing update about my "love" life. I still feel like someone punched me in the stomach (but I think I already felt like that prior to the phone call...), so hopefully that will pass. I dunno, maybe I'm overthinking things (I do tend to do that...)...
Alright, it's bedtime for me, probably not for you, but good night anyways!
I'll try to come up with more stuff to talk about for next week (hopefully). Then again, I have to take four exams next week, so I might have suffered a nervous breakdown by that point.
Regardless, take care!            

To withdraw or not to withdraw...

As some of you might have noticed (by some I mean everyone who is friends with me on Facebook...which equates to one, maybe two of you), I have stopped typing up elaborate comments on various articles. Not that any of you really care (or have even noticed).
I've been trying to keep my mouth shut and fingers from the keyboard as much as possible. Sure, sometimes I'll still like a(n) comment/article, maybe I'll type a short sentence, or write something if it's someone's birthday. It's not like I want to come off as a complete douche (not that anyone would really notice that either).
So, why would I go from typing up comments and trying to entertain my friends to not wanting to type up anything at all (on Facebook at least...I hardly use Twitter, and special rules apply to this blog...you're all here at your own risk)?
To put it simply: I've become disgusted with myself. Yeah, yeah...I know what some of you are thinking. "How is this different from how you usually feel about yourself? Is this supposed to be news?" Well, no, this wasn't meant to be some kind of revelation. It's a bit weird to explain, but my self-loathing just managed to reach a new depth, that's all. I guess I just got beyond disgusted by my own comments that were becoming increasingly depressing...to me. And if I, as someone who is always already mildly depressed, manage to make myself even more depressed, then how are the people on my friends list going to feel? Granted, I've been known to say that I would rather have everyone hate me, but if you don't already hate me, then, I'm sorry to say, I don't have the energy to go out of my way to make you hate me. I need that energy to keep myself from curling up in the fetal position and sobbing hysterically every five seconds. Just kidding...maybe...not really. (Okay, it's not that bad...today at least.)
Anyways, I just didn't like what I was typing up anymore. Besides, hardly anyone was reading them (I don't know this for sure, but let's just say it's an educated guess), and even if someone was, what is he/she gonna say? "OMG, you need to talk to a professional about this" or "You should end your life ASAP"? Even if someone wanted to help, he/she couldn't.
And no, none of you needs to be concerned about me. If nothing has happened to me in the past 28 years, nothing will happen now either. I still have to finish working on my MA and then pay off my student loans... Oh, and there's always my precious ball of fluff (no, not that "fluff")...that is currently living with my parents and the rest of the Fluff Brigade. *sad*
I guess things could be worse: It could still be Monday. For some reason (depression, obviously), I could not stop myself from crying. Writing about my feelings *sob*, talking to one of the Japanese teachers *sob*, watching American Dad *sob* (that last one isn't true, but I did cry a looooot). Actually, Sunday and Tuesday weren't that pleasant either, but Monday was bad.
Maybe reading all of those articles and processing them in my comments wasn't the wisest choice... Especially since many of them just made me feel like a complete failure, which I am, but I shouldn't necessarily be subjecting myself to constant confirmations of said fact from outside sources. I'm also guessing that another contributing factor was the last phone call with my parents (which took place on Sunday...last Sunday). Even though I'm usually slightly less depressed, if not neutral, after talking to my parents, somehow this last conversation just completely irked me. I don't need rainbows blown up my ass every single time I talk to them, or anyone else for that matter, but something was...off. More than likely, I was already so depressed at that point that everything my parents said just sounded more negative and critical. I guess I'll find out when I talk to them later (it's already Sunday for me).
Of course, I'm still not completely out of the woods yet. There are several other factors contributing to my current blue mood, so it probably won't go away for a while. I won't mention all of them because that would probably be enough to fill a whole series of books (or provide enough material for ten Woody Allen films). Maybe I'll talk about what else is on my mind in future posts, but for now this incoherent, sad little update will have to do.
Will I return to typing up lengthy comments on Facebook? I don't know. I probably shouldn't. Most of my friends seem to be too busy enjoying life (or Candy Crush) to be bothered with my rants, so I might be better off saving my thoughts for here.
Oh well...since it's way past my bedtime and I still haven't been able to organize my thoughts properly, I should stop here and try and get some sleep. By the way, if you see me, just please refrain from asking me how I'm doing. At least for the time being. Just assume that I'm doing okay because that's all I'm going to tell you anyways. It's the one thing I'll lie about. Don't want to, but I also don't want to risk talking about how depressed I actually am. At least in person. The blog is different. That way I can cry without having anyone look at me. So, it would be really great if you could just keep the conversation light for now.
Oh, and thanks for listening (well, reading)! Maybe next time I can write about something funny and lighthearted, like sex. What can I say? I have a weird sense of humor...        
  

A bit of self-hatred

Here you lie before me, yet again. Looking at me with those wide eyes. Do you expect any mercy from me? Whenever I look at you, my hate towards you increases. As much as I want to kill you, I know that a simple and quick death will never do. I want to hurt you, I want to see you suffer, I want to hear you scream. Just give up, accept the inevitable, let me take over. Give me your soul so that I can tear it to shreds. I don't want any part of you to survive. Are you crying? That's so cute..and pointless. Everyone has a breaking point, even you, so just give in. Fighting me won't save you. So what should I use on you first: the baseball bat, the knives...how about some of sulfuric acid? What did I say? Fighting won't help. Oh, you still think that someone will come and save you from me? Assuming that there is someone interested in saving you, how will they stop me? We're inseparable, aren't we? But all joking aside, nobody will come to save you. Because nobody really likes you. No, nobody ever has. They all hate you. Everyone has been lying to you. They always have. I'll be doing them a favor by killing you. That's right, nobody will miss you. Oh ssshhh, it's alright... Now, where to start? Do I break your kneecaps? Dislocate your shoulders? Or should I just go ahead and cut off that ugly face of yours? Do you know how many people have been traumatized after looking at that...whatever it's supposed to be? I would be doing everyone a great favor by removing it. Don't worry, this will actually be an improvement to the way you looked before. Oh, and don't cry over missing out on love, sex, and happiness. Nobody wants you anyways. Let's face it, someone would have to be really fucked up to be interested in you. That's it, can't you feel the calm descending on you? Give in to the inevitable. Let me save you from yourself and this pathetic existence of yours.