Lesser of Two Evils

Okay, I had a plan of what I was going to write before I logged in, but upon the page loading, I looked at my page views and saw that all 47 of them from the last month was from porn crawlers. I suppose I need to avoid terms like "hands on throat". How sickening.

I had a dream last night that I-- a heroine-- married a man I knew was evil and wanted to destroy me. He was better than my other option though. Almost after the ceremony, I regretted what I had done. Everyone around me gave no sympathy. They all agreed that I made a terrible choice, but that I had chosen, and gave no sympathy. I began to fight. To run. To hide. But the disapproval and the strings of commitment pulled me back in, wrapping my arms and slamming me down. While being buried, I cried of regret.

I think this is a pretty good manifestation of how I feel right now. I am regretting all my decisions, and at the time they seemed pretty good, but now I am just lost and I feel like everyone's input is making the struggle harder.  I am just trying to find people/things to blame though, since I am just unhappy. I am just so unhappy. It's affecting every aspect of my life and I am trying to find solutions, make changes, and then those changes I fear will only be reasons to remain in my unhappiness. I want all decisions to be held up right now. Just give me some time. It's hard.

Hands on Throat

Today I went to change something in life causing my stress at least in part, but was met with opposition, more than I was prepared for. I felt dragged down by the neck. Like hands will pulling me back and down. My neck tightened and swallow breathes of the fear and terror around me were all I could take in.

I fear tomorrow. I can't stop crying. I don't know to ask for help or just die. Dying seems much better.

Also, I ate like a whole bag of candy last night and I only realized it now. I don't remember it when it happened. I have not done that in a while.

You know, I thought I was doing so well. What happened and make it stop.

Reporting in

Nothing can describe the energy drain I experienced when I opened my computer to get work done. I went from 67% charged to 7%.

On Thursday, I left. I cancelled my singing lessons, skipped my class (at which I was to present), and hopped in my car to see a concert. I skipped my two meetings on Friday. I did not accomplish anything. On Saturday, I did my community service activity, helped a friend, then slept. And slept. And slept. I woke up, did a community service project, sang for 4 hours, then had a complete and utter break down. I need to quit my job. I need this to stop. I am running away always and it is stressing me out and the stress is paralyzing and I am drowning.

My panic attacks result in me being highly functional or I go to sleep. Since I already slept for 16+ hours, time to be functional. I cleaned my room and called my father how to quit my job. I tried to keep calm, but I left a tearful voicemail on my adviser's phone. I will regret that. I was hot. I stripped down and opened windows.

I look at the clock like it lies. My eyes beg for it to tell a different story. I blame myself. I am unprepared for tomorrow. I cannot bear the thought of tomorrow. And yet there is something inside of me that tells me everything will be okay this week and all my problems will be resolved somehow, but another part knows that's all a lie. I want me to stop. I need another vacation. Mental sick days are a thing yeah? Please.

Going Down the Rollercoaster

Life is experiencing the consequences of your decisions. I am tired and I want to sleep.

This time, it was the weekend before classes.

I felt like waves were crashing all around me of just horror. Anxiety. The doubt. The pins and needles of my awkwardness in the present and of the past and a future I do not want.

On Sunday, I lay in my bed exhausted from the yes's I had yet to commit myself to, from the homework I have yet to be assigned in classes I have yet to take, from the failed lesson plan I have yet to start.

On MondayTuesdayWednesday blurred together in a line of unfinished tasks and mortification of seeing people I remember enjoying.

Wednesday morning, I met with this guy who is selling me shakes to lose weight. I am losing muscle because I am not working out because I am exhausted because I am drinking 90 calories of powder for two of my meals and filling my body with so much water I am too busy urinating to snack.  He yelled at me. "Come on! You could be making so much more progress. Chocolates? Really?" I felt like an empty shell of a human ready to break, but I could go further. I have no self-discipline, that's it. The only feel like I am progressing to is hating myself more. I'll lose weight decaying in the grave.


Left Step. I want to die.
Right Step. I want to die.

Left Step. I want to die.

Right Step. I want to die. 

Left Step. I want to die. 

Right Step. Please kill me.

I march on. 

Cluster of Emotions And This is the Falling Action Hopefully

I have been through every emotion in the cycle of one week. I am not experience any known biological process, its just been one of those weeks I suppose. I am tired, through and through.

I was starting to become depressed Wednesday-- I remember vividly. I was in the shower at the gym after working out in step class, asking myself why I am always writing when I am sad, never when I am happy. I feel like writing is a reflex and happiness is a state to relish in-- no questions asked. To clarify, I wasn't depressed or sad specifically at that moment, but I could feel the internal clouds rolling in.

I hate the words happy and sad. Such a complex myriad of feelings compressed into small words.

I went to a bible study after working out on Wednesday and the topic was adversity. When prompted, I really couldn't find of a moment where I had adversity or really typical moments of like "Woe is me!!" Just two days later, I can list a whole litany of problems I am having. It has been a downward spiral and I am just tired. I slept enough I think last night, but I am just tired from my bones. Every disapproval is a dagger on my weakened flesh, but more importantly the knifes holstered in my heart are double and thrown at those around me, creating a vicious cycle of acting out of vulnerabilities. Why am I so broken? I just want to sleep.

I listed to a poetry slam that talked about how she wouldn't write her friend an obituary. I am concern of effect and cause when it comes to the darkness. Did watching this video and reminding me of suicide now cause my internal mantra to resume its familiar rhythm?

I stand up: "I want to die". I am driving down the street and stop at a red light: "I want to die." I send another email: "Okay, I need to email Jenny and Tim. I want to do die."

My brother told me to get a another hobby to distract myself. He actually doesn't know about this problem. I have another problem about that boy I keep talking about. It's a pretty strong unrequited love situation really. He's nice. He will let me message him and bother him during the working day and even talk to me at events I know he will be at and attend. But at the end of the day, when reality comes crashing that there is no hope, that he doesn't ever see a future with me, he doesn't like me like that, and how foolish I must look pouring so much of my life into this guy who most people would not really spend more than a moment on, I come crashing back down. I am addicted to the idea of someone caring.

(The first victim of this pattern and I talked about this years after we both went our own ways. He told me he was confused as to what our relationship was, that I didn't respect his inability to be emotionally available, and that while he was disinterested, he wasn't going to go out of his way to stop me from showering him with attention. I told him I was struggling with depression. He rolled his eyes and said "Oh my God." He thought I was trying to compete in terms of mental issues. I just wanted him to say, "Huh, I had no idea. I'm glad your getting better.")

So a hobby? I can't imagine what I could possibility add. Can sleeping be a hobby? The doctor told me not to oversleep as any deviation from the 7-9 hours can trigger the imbalance. But I want to sleep. For forever.

It's really scary that in states now doctors can help you commit suicide. People say its an expansion of rights. Control. Control on something when you have nothing.

I am not free when I am depressed. The mantra rings in my ears in every task I do and I want to sleep and I want to hate people and I want to hide and I want to eat all the candy and drink all the pop and I want to cut all the fat from my waist and I want to run from every person I have ever met and I want to throw my phone at the wall and I want to end the internet and I want every smile removed from the minds of all who know me and just be nothing. I want to die to badly that I wish I was never born. How is this freedom? How is this control on my life? A doctor's role is to heal a sick person. My body is working, healthy, perfect. My perception is clouded by a shroud of the dark lies that I am not good enough for life. It paints my eyes with the lies that all the mistakes I have made are too great to continue on. I need someone to remove this veil, not remove me. I need someone to stop me from removing me.

--

Someone just came over and saw me writing this and he read it and got really nervous and then just smiled at me. Inhale. Exhale. Okay, that was pretty embarrassing, but it happened, and I am fine now.

I'll keep going.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

I was doing really well, but now I am back in my hole. Hello hole. How are you?

I figured since I can't work as the despair is currently traveling through my organs eating away everything in my soul, I might as well blog about the event to document my "triggers". I feel slightly ridiculous call it that, I am not going to lie. 

I have been on a sort of high. Floating on cloud nine bragging about myself and feeling like a million bucks, winning awards, rolling into the spotlight. I was just appreciating all the talents I have been given and thought that my biggest enemy was not having enough time or effort to share the gift-I-am with the world. 

I was in a car and chatting for a long time-- almost 5 hours. I walked through my past, talking about the ups, the downs, and all the adventures. Walking through what others said to me, what I said to others, the choices I made and their effects. Admissions of past errors came in my stories when I presumed an oddity  for the listener in my logic, naturally resulting in a "Why did you do that?" With every admission was a resolve to do better, and an affirmation that I was better, because I thought I was. 

However, it is amazing how one person's words can cut your heart and let the darkness travel, coarsing through your veils into your mind and vision-- consuming your world. 

I am critical because I care. (Let's go with that lie that I tell myself anyway.) This boy is an awful writer. I am reviewing everything, because he is not a good writer, at all. I am not the best either, but at least I can use a period when the sentence ends. Can you imagine? Like let's say someone wants to end a sentence, but instead they just keep going, I have no idea why that would be acceptable on the college level, this is not to say that the sentences aren't complete, but it is just that there could be several lines of text with commas instead of periods, the thoughts end but there are commas, it is so weird. 

It's one thing to be angry that someone is being too critical, but then to attack as if it is a flaw in their leadership skills is pretty lame and hurtful. So I retorted back! Blame is an outpouring of uncomfortable emotions, and I just shouted blame on him for his flaws-- and I felt more awful than what was going on inside. 

I apologized, and in doing so I found out he was angry about my critical review of his writing. Instead of apologizing, he just explained why he was mad at me and said that. But I just took it. And I felt awful. Being meek sucks. Being the victim of people's imperfections and emotionally feeling the manifestations of their inability to communicate sucks.  

I feel better now. But I want Chick-Fil-A. And the janitor lady talks to me too much, so I need to leave before she comes, stay away for a few hours, and then come back. Long night again. I should take a nap. 

"And when you wake up, everything is going be fine. I guarantee that you'll wake in a better place, in a better time. So you're tired of livin', and you feel like you might give in-- well don't. It's not your time." 

In Between

Some songs just pass through your ears and into your soul~~

And when you wake up, everything is going to be fine.

I like music. I quote music lyrics. I live my life by certain lyrics.

"It's always darkest before the dawn."

"Open me up and you will see, I am gallery of broken hearts."

"And when you wake up, everything is going to be fine. I guarantee that you'll wake in a better place, in a better time. So you're tired of living? You feel like you might give in? Well, don't. It's not your time."

No matter how you feel or what dark thoughts swirl in your head in a moment, I have found that just going to sleep before doing anything is always best. It doesn't solve any of your problems, but always when you wake you'll be in a better place, at a better time. You'll make a better decision, and if even just for that duration of slumber, you survived just that much longer. Usually I sing these words as I lie on rock bottom, so they are not wrong I suppose.

This morning I am alive and I am beautiful, but I am still just a shell that roams life. A visitor instead of a host. The small hammers of hostility from my peers begin to chip me away as I force myself through the motions of living. I wish I was invisible. I wish I could fall in love with my work so deeply I could block everyone and everything out, but there is nothing inside to love with.

"I'm always dragging that horse around."

"Nothing is real but the pain now. Hold my breathe as I wish for death. Oh please God wake me."

I think it is going to get better. It could be worse.

Water is Eternal

Today I cried. I cried the way I cried in 6th grade. The same problems, the same feeling welling up inside me, the same bottles of emotion shattering from light pings and pangs from the hammers of everyday life.

But unlike 6th grade, I was surrounded by people who were mature enough to care. And instead of getting angry at me only replied, "It's not you. Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." And the tears melted from shame to relief. For the first time in my life, it wasn't my fault. Or at least someone told me it wasn't.

It was October 2004. While most teens in the 6th grade were finding their place in the newly-formed social ladder, a product of combining three elementary schools to one, I had bigger issues to face. For years I had been fighting with my mom and I was in between two episodes of running way. My sister that week had threatened to kill me before going to bed and the voices were getting louder. There also was a strange man who I did not like getting unusually close to my little brother. And also, I was starting puberty. So basically a normal day in the life of Karen.

My friends were... Shallow. Kind, stable students from perfect, wealthy homes. They were the antithesis of my life and that is the way I wanted it. The greater the difference between us, the better I could live my double life-- normal straight A student at school, lifetime sentence to a mad house at home. Not a single soul of them knew anything about my home life. For how talkative I was and open about everything, expressing ideas of something outside these shallow girls' experience would just be a pain to all of us. However, I had no idea just how much pain it could cause.

After one particularly rough night at home, I came to school with tears still fresh in my eyes. I had cried so much the night before, that even upon waking I cried that I woke up. (I hated that even though I laid out a book of ways to kill myself-- engineered 13 ways actually-- I never had the courage to do any of them.)
But like everyday of my life, I pep talked myself to dry my tears, don't let anyone see, don't let anyone know. Just be the Karen everyone knows for her shining smile.

This day, I couldn't. My tear ducts no longer had any strength in them. Any contortion in my face broke a tear through. I knew it would be a rough day, but I had no idea how rough.

I was standing in the entry way to Mrs. Urban's classroom where the instruments were kept. It was a white-walled, strange bump out from the hallway to the classroom. The bus dropped us off rather early to school every morning and I would hangout sometimes in this little alcove before class would begin. When Sarah, Elizabeth (and probably Claire and Alicia I don't remember) came, we began to talk about whatever it was we talked about. I apparently was not as chipper as I normally was, and Sarah asked what was wrong. I got dismissive, and told her even if I could tell her, she couldn't possibly understand. Naïvely, she began to try to comfortingly coax it out me, saying she would understand but that I needed to share with her. I told her no. She began to get upset with me. That we were friends and if I was upset I needed to share. I told her no. She pressured me more saying that it was MY fault that she couldn't help because I was the one who wouldn't tell me what was wrong. I told her I didn't want her to comfort me, and that it will pass, and to just let me be. Through all this, I broke down. All the glass started to shatter and the floodgates opened. The girls stood, shocked as I slid to the floor in an uncontrollable outburst of the ugliest cry one could imagine. They left me.

Next thing I know after class, as all the students leave, Sarah stands and waits in the class. Mrs. Urban tells me to stay behind for a moment, and I am scared. I am so fragile at this moment, anything out of routine is like a rake clawing me from the inside. But here I sit in a circle with my just recent aggressors with Sarah playing the role of victim. Band class-- my musical escape-- is beginning at this moment and each tick of the clock fills me with dread. Mrs. Urban first has the "victim" explain why we are all here. Sarah says this tragic story of how I am just a mean, angry person who takes out my frustration on them (as of that day) and I refuse to tell them why, even though if I only trusted them, I could be happy and our friendship would be fixed.

I am appalled. I remember questioning my entire judgement at ever being friends with such self-centered people. Mrs. Urban turns to me and asks why am I so upset. I reassure her and everyone in the room it has nothing to do with them until they started to press me. Banter continues on using the logic, "Well if it has nothing to do with us, then why can't you tell us." I remember being shocked that Mrs. Urban still sides with them for the most part. I beg for us the drop this and just to let me go to band class. Mrs. Urban says we can resolve when both sides... compromise. (What a shitty ass idea.) Sarah says she will only be satisfied when she is able to help me.

I don't remember all that happened, or everything said. I remembered I wanted to die. I hoped my emotions would make me pass out and I would hit my head. My eyes were stinging and the room was in a haze. I was fading in and out when Sarah talked. I felt like I was drowning after I was not allowed to leave. I remember screaming. I think I said "LEAVE ME ALONE!! leave me alone...." And crying. I remember Mrs. Urban taking me swiftly with a hand on my upper back to the drinking fountain. Looking back, she had no idea what to do. She put me in the hallway between counselor office rooms hoping one would come out but they were all busy. She brought me back to the drinking fountain and asked the secretary which one was free first and what to do with me. Sarah and the other girls stood sheepishly by the classroom door peering out until I glared at them, crying from being frightened like at a scary movie. I was actually very glad at this moment. They would stop and now a little bit of truth could be shed on who really was the victim here. Mrs. Urban ordered them to go to class and to not talk about this.

So tonight in my living room, I cried. My walls broke down. Instead of being bullied in to sharing why, I freely shared the reason for my pain. "It's not you." It's been over 12 years since that day. I still hurt. I still have rope in my room, and I s have poison in my room. And yet, I still stand on two feet when I wake in the morning.

(Sidenote, I confronted Sarah years later-- in high school or just a year after high school about this exact event since it did greatly effect us all of my middle school and high school, and though she didn't really think she did anything wrong, she apologized and said she had no idea. And I said I know, I didn't want her to. She had the audacity to say I should have confronted her sooner so that maybe we could have been on better terms sooner, and I told her that was not a possibility, and things in life must run their course.)

i'm better off when i hit the bottom

I am hollowed out. Distraction is a state of mind.

The seed of depression has grown into a tree inside of me, spreading its members into my fingers, into my throat, out through my eyes. It taints my vision with its logs. All I see is horror and anxiety.

The less I eat, the more it grows. The more I eat, the more it grows. People passing with blank expression, unimpressed by my existence is the MiracleGrow so strong I am afraid to leave my desk for fear of another application. At the meeting this morning, the abrupt cutting off of my sentences-- after each word had to fight to the surface, entangled in these branches-- sliced apart whatever slivers of a person I had left. I am barely alive. The hollow shell of a person is swaying like a blanket on mighty tree.

Dismiss me more. Your apathy is fatal.

Break a Camel

Today I sent him a message. It was six days since the last message. It was his birthday you know. Tonight's contained information that I thought he would find interesting: "Alright"

No further comment. Not even a period to end the thought.

A period means stop. No period.

While his thought might linger according to the absence of a single dot, this gives all the signals for me to stop my thoughts. Well, my thoughts to him via Facebook messages.

With nice guys, it takes a while. The camel's back is strong because its the right thing to do, to be strong. The kind thing to do... the nice. It's nice. Responding. It's a nice thing to do from nice guys. Not to ignore a woman's texts, even if you want to ignore her.

Let's see how long it took me to break this crush. I crush crushes so I can stop crushing by crushing so hard that the nice crush decides to crush nice. A uninterested one-word reply is not ignoring, but its not really nice either. Not responding means you might respond-- hope. Responding terribly means that's all it folks.


I have yet to figure out who is my audience and frankly I don't care. You all will probably think at this moment, "But Karen, aren't you overracting? Like what is even going on?"

*I am tired, so yeah totes probs.*

Basically, there is a guy. I like this guy. Thought he liked me back. Very exciting. Got bold. Got rejected. Acted like I don't care. I care. But friendship pls? He was very confused. He rejected me, is she unaffected? Yes, I am a stone-cold, heartless, friendship machine... be my friend 'kay? He supposes. He goes away to a foreign country for a month. Chatting is always initiated by me, but he responses... until he doesn't.

May 1st (the day after he rejected me) to May 26th, I initiated a conversation 10 times via Facebook messenger.

Six days ago he responded in 5 words. "Thanks Karen, so fun adventuring"

Today he responses "Alright"

Tomorrow? There will be no tomorrow. I need to get over this now.
...oh wait, he just like my Facebook post.

*burns Facebook*

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.


Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.


The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:


For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.


-WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Mad or go mad?

Hello Everyone.


So this guy I was seeing and who was COMPLETELY leading me on, like 100%, after dragging me to this event I explicitly said I was uncomfortable going to but was willing to try it for him, all of a sudden just said he is not interested in dating me. We've been on two dates btw. I would call these dates. I am pretty sure most of the normal population of people would call these dates.

Anyway, all that is now history. But what happens next isn't. Like I work with him, and I see him all the time, and I have no idea how to proceed. I could say what's really on my mind, or I could just keep it to myself and completely ignore him. I feel like I would go mad though. However, if I let out what is inside of me, I am MAD. Like at first I was shocked as this was a reply to a message I sent chatting over Facebook. Not expecting that response. Then he calls me. And then he says he just pocket dialed me. We were planning on doing something together this week, we just hadn't set the time. Do I

1) angrily say to cancel the event without details?
2) do nothing.
3) go anyway with the semi-scheduled event and try to be... friends. People will think we are dating.

I am mature enough to be friends, but I feel like I don't want to be (hahaha I sound like a child). This whole time I was never more sure in my life that this guy was leading me on, and it will be a whole plethora of constantly being annoyed that he may or may not be leading me on. So obnoxious.  I am just so done.

But strategically, I feel like I need to be his friend, or really his coworker. He is a hardworker. He is reliable. I need him in my work environment and my social environment as a team member.

Also, its not a crime to be good looking. Like, looking back, if a guy was into me, I feel like I probably would have gone to this point as well to finally be like, okay you know what no. I guess I should be grateful he did not let it go any further. Also, if I am mad and bitchy, he'll probably only think "Dang, dodged a bullet on that one." So I better just workout, eat right, sing, better myself on every level and move on to let the person that WILL appreciate me, appreciate me.

Ugh, but tomorrow's Monday. Decisions, decisions.

Microsoft Powerpoint is Inherently Superior to Google Slides.

Are you ever so disappointed with a person that it hurts your brain?

I sent a teammate an example powerpoint to start making the presentation.

The professor sends two example powerpoints, one exactly the same as mine.

Teammate: "Hey guys do we have like a template for the presentation?"

Me: "Yeah. I sent it a week ago. And the professor sent two. We can use either, but the one I sent makes the most sense. Just open the file, save as, delete everything, and start making the slides."

Teammate: "Hey everyone! Since I didn't know what to do, I made these slides in Google."

...
...
...

This girl graduates with an engineering degree in a week. I would never hire anyone from this University.

(Sidenote, I have very few pet peeves. But oh boy, Google Slides. Anytime I see a Google Slides presentation, I instantly think less of the presentation. This is due to a bias that has developed over several years of seeing very good presentations, and very bad presentations. I have seen a lot of very, very bad Google Slide presentations. I have worked in the program. I hate the interface. It lacks so many options and features. When a teammate suggests to do a Google Slides presentation, I would rather do a Prezi with very spiral and zoom on the planet. No. Just no. </endrant>)

Music: Anaconda, All About that Bass, Lying is the Most Fun....

Man, I love this song. Like oh my goodness, so clever. Letssssss listen to all of these songs like 1,000 times thanks. 

And this one: 

Like, life goals, I need to learn to be able to sing and play this. I regret not already having this skill. 

And this songggggggg~

Like. Oh my goodness. I am completely crushing on this guy, and this song is something that would play in the background of a dream. A dream where I am bold, and confident, and skinny, and pretty. I could go on a major rant right now how I have found that no matter my accomplishments, it doesn't matter because I am fat. ITS INSANE. My goal is to lose weight, but gosh, if cared enough to do that before this, I wouldn't still be fat, right? Anyway, this is the theme of our romance that never is, and never was, and never will be, because I am me and he is every guy that never was either. 

I actually MUCH prefer the censored version than the actual version, because I really don't think he needs to say that. Like, calm down. It's too harsh. Innocence is not a bad thing, and things don't need to be said out loud. 

Blog Purpose

Hello Everyone,

I don't know if this link was shared with anyone, but this blog used to be how I was going to track my sister's stay with me, and her progress into a fully functional human bean. However, she bailed on me and so the blog was never developed. Since I got the sweet domain name, I will just turn this blog into a place where I will express my feelings and emotions and thoughts instead of bothering the heck out of the people I love in my life.

I honestly hope no one I know reads this, so if you can see this, and you were even notified of my activity, let me know so I can write more to a catered audience I suppose. (And because I guess it's scary to just shoot stuff into the interwebs without knowing my level of privacy. Like my xanga? Good stuff, but also this teacher I hated decided it was "cute" and would teach me a lesson to read my blog post in front of the entire class. Sweet. Awkwardly enough, I just complained about how lousey of a teacher she was, and how she thought she was cool, but she wasn't, and by doing this, and reading it out loud to the class, I think she just fulfilled the prophesy in my writing, and the whole class could tell.)

Anyway, I will post stuff on this blog because like I said, I am bothering people that I shouldn't piss off. Like I have so many thoughts constantly running through my mind, and no one on this planet could keep up if they had to sit and listen to them all.

So tl;dr? Well, great, that's the whole blog. It's me rambling. Like why did you even waste your time?