Stream of consciousness entry. I need this.
Ever felt like you were watching your life unfold from atop a grand cliff, where everything else is happening just out of arms reach? Fuck, man, it seems sometimes that whatever I do I just get stupider, my grades get lower, my concern for it all just rants and rails against an empty wind that blows its way through my "soul" (Buddhist adventurers need not discuss why that doesn't exist, that's what the quotations are there for). Sometimes I know I have assignments, I know it'll be easy, for fuck's sake I'm supposed to show that I understand the Hindu religion for a 100 level class... and I get up the blank screen of Wordperfect 12 and type the title and just stare at the fucking white screen stained with only three dark words... Hinduism... Justin Harris. Every sentence I start with feels like an automatic fucking failure, every idea I try to extrapolate and explain seems like a lost memory from eons ago, and every stupid bit of information that is in my mind refuses to flow through my fingers. It just wants to stay up there, like a useless decaying log who houses only black widows and maggots and beetles and apathy. Neverfuckingmind the fact that this is a perfect example of how Shiva works, with death to bring life, or that it's all a part of Brahman, or that the energy at work behind it all arises from the same source, or that to see the Divine is to see the reality behind the maya, I can't fucking put it into an essay format. It's feels as if it's been so long since I've written for the sheer joy of writing that those muscles of mine have locked up, have atrophied into uselessness, perished and gone.
Of course I can rant. Of course I can rave. Of course I can write. But I have a mental block that is deciding that I can't. That's the true trouble, and that's what I have to overcome by tomorrow at 4. I mean, it's only 4-5 pages. But I also have two tests in one class tomorrow... Fucking Forensic anthropology. I am seriously regretting taking that class... maybe the me that used to try to adapt to a certain mindset of a certain group would look at the pictures of dead people and try to show faux enjoyment, but I truly get nothing out of it. I don't even know if I'll be able to really use the information I get. I don't even think I really care. And I've been feeling that way about a lot of things lately... I go to classes wondering if I really care. After college I'll probably apply to grad school after grad school and get turned down because there are hundreds and thousands of people that are so much more qualified and so much better than I am that will get into grad school and I'll be left in the fucking dust with a fairly useless degree working at Wal-Mart greeting people until I get old and die. Or maybe delivering pizza and going through car after car after car and gallon after gallon after gallon of gas. Or working third shift server for the rest of my days. Maybe even Afni. Woofuckinghoo.
Now I really don't want to write this paper.
Of course I can rant. Of course I can rave. Of course I can write. But I have a mental block that is deciding that I can't. That's the true trouble, and that's what I have to overcome by tomorrow at 4. I mean, it's only 4-5 pages. But I also have two tests in one class tomorrow... Fucking Forensic anthropology. I am seriously regretting taking that class... maybe the me that used to try to adapt to a certain mindset of a certain group would look at the pictures of dead people and try to show faux enjoyment, but I truly get nothing out of it. I don't even know if I'll be able to really use the information I get. I don't even think I really care. And I've been feeling that way about a lot of things lately... I go to classes wondering if I really care. After college I'll probably apply to grad school after grad school and get turned down because there are hundreds and thousands of people that are so much more qualified and so much better than I am that will get into grad school and I'll be left in the fucking dust with a fairly useless degree working at Wal-Mart greeting people until I get old and die. Or maybe delivering pizza and going through car after car after car and gallon after gallon after gallon of gas. Or working third shift server for the rest of my days. Maybe even Afni. Woofuckinghoo.
Now I really don't want to write this paper.