summer's gone
Woah. Anyway.
This summer has been a slippery bastard, resistant to being pinned down the same way the last few have. Last summer was the summer of ostensible love curdling into quiet discontent and tetchiness, plus angst over my ostensible unemployability. The summer before, it was time to pine for a collegiate future that didn't materialize, plus clean up the mess my dad had left behind and feel sorry for myself.
This summer I got back and felt sorry for myself for a few weeks. Then I got that stupid job and was on edge for a month, but I met my (far-too-low) financial benchmark. I quit in time to go on a vacation to...Nebraska. Which was great, actually: my inner 10-year-old was thrilled to loll around in the sun all day, drink endless beers, and let the days go by without any kind of timeframe. At one point, I was even out of cell-phone-reception range AND e-mail for 3 days, which hasn't happened in a long time.
Then I was back and sick for a few days, again. Which raises a point, by the way: the more I thought about it, the more I realized that sophomore year at NYU was, on a certain level, completely ludicrous. Without even managing to have that good a time, I've completely destroyed my body through a diet of too little sleep, too many Marlboro Reds, and no exercise. My lymph nodes have been pretty much in constant revolt/recovery since January; it's hard to remember what a normal neck feels like. During the month of work, I wasn't smoking, was exercising regularly, and even eating a normal diet. I was reminded of what it feels like to feel healthy. I'll try to start it back up at NYU, but who fucking knows.
Went to LA for a weekend, and that was great. The city's so much nicer when a) someone is driving you, instead of walking around Beverly Hills like a moron b) you're not delirious and running on 3 hours' sleep c) you actually like the people you're visiting. The beach was fabulous, the city was full of walking anorexic plastic surgery experiements, etc.
So I don't know. I'm back in Austin for a week now, trying not to get stoned too often, which just makes me cranky and wonder why my life is such a drag that I can't handle it straight and need to surrender long periods of time to talking like a retard. The only thing I've really grasped this summer is that surrender to a feeling of futility is not acceptable. I have just barely enough skill, friends, and opportunities to get - is it possible? - a good job. I can't hack the temp world, at least not too long. I now understand the concept of holding out for a good job: because I'd do better at it, and everyone wins. So: get to workin', I guess. I need to get serious; not like I could be any more serious, because sometimes I feel like a rigid ethicist with no sense of humor, and sometimes I feel still emo and 17, and sometimes I feel borderline competent.
Anyway. Still alive, still disease-free. And soon back to the (wildly unfocused) careerist track.
This summer has been a slippery bastard, resistant to being pinned down the same way the last few have. Last summer was the summer of ostensible love curdling into quiet discontent and tetchiness, plus angst over my ostensible unemployability. The summer before, it was time to pine for a collegiate future that didn't materialize, plus clean up the mess my dad had left behind and feel sorry for myself.
This summer I got back and felt sorry for myself for a few weeks. Then I got that stupid job and was on edge for a month, but I met my (far-too-low) financial benchmark. I quit in time to go on a vacation to...Nebraska. Which was great, actually: my inner 10-year-old was thrilled to loll around in the sun all day, drink endless beers, and let the days go by without any kind of timeframe. At one point, I was even out of cell-phone-reception range AND e-mail for 3 days, which hasn't happened in a long time.
Then I was back and sick for a few days, again. Which raises a point, by the way: the more I thought about it, the more I realized that sophomore year at NYU was, on a certain level, completely ludicrous. Without even managing to have that good a time, I've completely destroyed my body through a diet of too little sleep, too many Marlboro Reds, and no exercise. My lymph nodes have been pretty much in constant revolt/recovery since January; it's hard to remember what a normal neck feels like. During the month of work, I wasn't smoking, was exercising regularly, and even eating a normal diet. I was reminded of what it feels like to feel healthy. I'll try to start it back up at NYU, but who fucking knows.
Went to LA for a weekend, and that was great. The city's so much nicer when a) someone is driving you, instead of walking around Beverly Hills like a moron b) you're not delirious and running on 3 hours' sleep c) you actually like the people you're visiting. The beach was fabulous, the city was full of walking anorexic plastic surgery experiements, etc.
So I don't know. I'm back in Austin for a week now, trying not to get stoned too often, which just makes me cranky and wonder why my life is such a drag that I can't handle it straight and need to surrender long periods of time to talking like a retard. The only thing I've really grasped this summer is that surrender to a feeling of futility is not acceptable. I have just barely enough skill, friends, and opportunities to get - is it possible? - a good job. I can't hack the temp world, at least not too long. I now understand the concept of holding out for a good job: because I'd do better at it, and everyone wins. So: get to workin', I guess. I need to get serious; not like I could be any more serious, because sometimes I feel like a rigid ethicist with no sense of humor, and sometimes I feel still emo and 17, and sometimes I feel borderline competent.
Anyway. Still alive, still disease-free. And soon back to the (wildly unfocused) careerist track.