(no subject)
With each ticking of the second hand, I'm wasting more of my life away. Time is plaguing me like it never has before. On my days off, I'm sometimes getting as much as 12 hours of sleep. While it feels great to do so, when I look at my clock upon getting out of bed, I can't help but feel a little bit remorseful at having wasted so much of the precious little time I have. Part of this is not being in school. I feel like life is going nowhere at the minute. I feel like it would be far too easy to fall into the pattern of just working and working for the rest of my life with no hope of taking a step towards something else.
But that brings up the eventual question that I always have about everything: does it matter? I sometimes have such a hard time convincing myself that time devoted to school and learning is worth anything. If I choose to major in a science, or something practical such as mathematics or biology, then what I'm simply doing is getting a degree so that I can continue to work my entire life in the same fashion I am now, only with a different kind of job that will hopefully be more entertaining than my current one. But is it ideal to me to work with mathematicians forever? To be doomed to socializing with nutjobs that most mathematicians are? Will I end up enjoying myself any more than I am now? That leaves teaching, a career I know that I'll enjoy. But teaching makes me feel even more existential than anything else, as good as it may be to do...I simply can't let go of the notion that teaching upon leaving school makes the world nothing but circular and makes my life nothing more than a stepping stone for someone better than myself.
But perhaps that is simply all I am. It's really hard to come to the conclusion that, as an individual, we mean nothing in the scheme of things, but perhaps sometimes it would be better if we simply admit it to ourselves. I don't know if I'm ready to give in to that notion yet, though.
And, if I chose to major in an art, such as theater or music, what would that mean? I cannot become convinced of the fact that the best way to learn an art is to study it, but I know that I'm not entirely correct on that notion. But I do think it's hard to express yourself by simply learning how others have done it. More than anything, there's the fear of staying at UNM. While going to Chicago, I'd at least have faith in the theater program, UNM adds a whole new level to my discomfort with studying art, as their program is terrible. With each day, though, I'm more convinced that I'm staying here and less convinced that Chicago is going to want me, no matter how good my argument is. I guess I'll have to see, but it's harder and harder to have hope. And with my letter of decline, what am I going to do then? Simply go to UNM or try and go away somewhere, tour around a bit? So many decisions to make, and my time to do so is dwindling.
It's hard not to wish away time. I really want it to be September and have all my decisions made and over. But I know that wishing for time to go faster than it already does is a horrible thing to do. It should be relished, I always say...but it's hard to fully use it.
I'm deep into the Quentin section of "The Sound and the Fury" now...which is the section controlled by time. Quentin is obessed with time, and breaks clocks because the ticking haunts him and makes him remember how much of his life he is losing. I think that reading this section is partially the reason behind why I've become so obsessed with how much time I'm losing these last couple weeks.
I suppose I need a little more sleep now. Why, you ask, am I writing a livejournal entry at 8 in the morning? Because I went to work today and found out it's my day off.
But that brings up the eventual question that I always have about everything: does it matter? I sometimes have such a hard time convincing myself that time devoted to school and learning is worth anything. If I choose to major in a science, or something practical such as mathematics or biology, then what I'm simply doing is getting a degree so that I can continue to work my entire life in the same fashion I am now, only with a different kind of job that will hopefully be more entertaining than my current one. But is it ideal to me to work with mathematicians forever? To be doomed to socializing with nutjobs that most mathematicians are? Will I end up enjoying myself any more than I am now? That leaves teaching, a career I know that I'll enjoy. But teaching makes me feel even more existential than anything else, as good as it may be to do...I simply can't let go of the notion that teaching upon leaving school makes the world nothing but circular and makes my life nothing more than a stepping stone for someone better than myself.
But perhaps that is simply all I am. It's really hard to come to the conclusion that, as an individual, we mean nothing in the scheme of things, but perhaps sometimes it would be better if we simply admit it to ourselves. I don't know if I'm ready to give in to that notion yet, though.
And, if I chose to major in an art, such as theater or music, what would that mean? I cannot become convinced of the fact that the best way to learn an art is to study it, but I know that I'm not entirely correct on that notion. But I do think it's hard to express yourself by simply learning how others have done it. More than anything, there's the fear of staying at UNM. While going to Chicago, I'd at least have faith in the theater program, UNM adds a whole new level to my discomfort with studying art, as their program is terrible. With each day, though, I'm more convinced that I'm staying here and less convinced that Chicago is going to want me, no matter how good my argument is. I guess I'll have to see, but it's harder and harder to have hope. And with my letter of decline, what am I going to do then? Simply go to UNM or try and go away somewhere, tour around a bit? So many decisions to make, and my time to do so is dwindling.
It's hard not to wish away time. I really want it to be September and have all my decisions made and over. But I know that wishing for time to go faster than it already does is a horrible thing to do. It should be relished, I always say...but it's hard to fully use it.
I'm deep into the Quentin section of "The Sound and the Fury" now...which is the section controlled by time. Quentin is obessed with time, and breaks clocks because the ticking haunts him and makes him remember how much of his life he is losing. I think that reading this section is partially the reason behind why I've become so obsessed with how much time I'm losing these last couple weeks.
I suppose I need a little more sleep now. Why, you ask, am I writing a livejournal entry at 8 in the morning? Because I went to work today and found out it's my day off.