Fuck you, Shane Lissy. I blame you for all of this.
So I'm pretty much the shallowest dickwad I know. Too embarrassing to post on the internet while sober, but that post might come in time after I start to reprove to myself that I actually have a functioning brain with morals and full control over my motor skills. Not to mention common fucking sense.
ANYWAYS, I see my summer coming to end fairly rapidly now, and it kind of feels like that one time when C3PO (or was it princess leia?) who fell off that ledge when the door closed behind her and then the platform she was stuck on retracted into the wall, causing him (or her) to fall into some giant cup that would inevitably be filled with hot liquid magma.........
My class schedule is totally up in the air, BUT... I know where I'm going to be living. Rainbow floooooor. I'll be rounding up all the gays and apparently I'm supposed to seem like I know whatever the fuck it is that I'm doing. And then...and notice this quotes here... "advise them." I don't know what my job description is, what my weekly/monthly/WHATEVERly commitments are supposed to be, but I DO know, I get free on-campus housing, meal plan, and priority registration. The building I'm going to be living in is awesome, I'll have acess to a piano, it's in the traditaional "dorm-style" setting. So at least I'll get that. (btw, I don't know my job description or anything because they haven't given it to me yet, I'm not just a lazy shitbag...in this case.)
I think my mind has turned to mush, and my ever-decreasing appetite (or maybe my ever-increasing resistence to food) somehow doesn't seem to help. I'm going to say it. I miss school. It'd be nice to have that much more structure in my life right now, rather than just working 5:30-9:00 five days a week, and then one music lesson and one quartet rehearsal a week. Maybe I'm a workaholic. Or maybe I'd like to be more of one. But things are never stable enough for me, things are never quite right in terms of things being routine, but at the same time not monotonous. Maybe I'm not a workaholic, maybe I'm just a perfectionist!
I don't really understand what people mean when they say they've "single handedly" done something. I think it sounds kinda stupid...but I'm going to say it for funsies anyways: I seem to have single handedly driven myself down, psychologically, with double-majoring...and now I'm about to make it worse with taking on this RA job, and this just makes it more and more evident to me that I have a trend of masochistically gourging my schedule to somehow make sure I don't fall behind, or appear that I have some degree of competency. Maybe this all stems back to my 1st-grade self...when I had chronic feelings of self-doubt, inferiority, and helplessness...and now I'm just trying to make up for all that shit. By going to a major 4-year university, double majoring, and being an RA. (Trying to analzy this objectively, I can't help but think this is all still somehow related to my aforementioned dickwadness.)
This will, in all likelihood, end in me being 340 lbs, taking about 6 pills a day, and I might even be enough like my dad to pass on the tradition of violence to my kids like my dad did to me. And all because fucking Shane from 1st grade wouldn't let me play lava monster with him and his friends on the goddamn playground (some faggot name calling was later applied)... but I would later force that negligent-son-of-a-bitch into a cold, cold submission with my ruling fist at four square. Not for another three or four years though.
ANYWAYS, I see my summer coming to end fairly rapidly now, and it kind of feels like that one time when C3PO (or was it princess leia?) who fell off that ledge when the door closed behind her and then the platform she was stuck on retracted into the wall, causing him (or her) to fall into some giant cup that would inevitably be filled with hot liquid magma.........
My class schedule is totally up in the air, BUT... I know where I'm going to be living. Rainbow floooooor. I'll be rounding up all the gays and apparently I'm supposed to seem like I know whatever the fuck it is that I'm doing. And then...and notice this quotes here... "advise them." I don't know what my job description is, what my weekly/monthly/WHATEVERly commitments are supposed to be, but I DO know, I get free on-campus housing, meal plan, and priority registration. The building I'm going to be living in is awesome, I'll have acess to a piano, it's in the traditaional "dorm-style" setting. So at least I'll get that. (btw, I don't know my job description or anything because they haven't given it to me yet, I'm not just a lazy shitbag...in this case.)
I think my mind has turned to mush, and my ever-decreasing appetite (or maybe my ever-increasing resistence to food) somehow doesn't seem to help. I'm going to say it. I miss school. It'd be nice to have that much more structure in my life right now, rather than just working 5:30-9:00 five days a week, and then one music lesson and one quartet rehearsal a week. Maybe I'm a workaholic. Or maybe I'd like to be more of one. But things are never stable enough for me, things are never quite right in terms of things being routine, but at the same time not monotonous. Maybe I'm not a workaholic, maybe I'm just a perfectionist!
I don't really understand what people mean when they say they've "single handedly" done something. I think it sounds kinda stupid...but I'm going to say it for funsies anyways: I seem to have single handedly driven myself down, psychologically, with double-majoring...and now I'm about to make it worse with taking on this RA job, and this just makes it more and more evident to me that I have a trend of masochistically gourging my schedule to somehow make sure I don't fall behind, or appear that I have some degree of competency. Maybe this all stems back to my 1st-grade self...when I had chronic feelings of self-doubt, inferiority, and helplessness...and now I'm just trying to make up for all that shit. By going to a major 4-year university, double majoring, and being an RA. (Trying to analzy this objectively, I can't help but think this is all still somehow related to my aforementioned dickwadness.)
This will, in all likelihood, end in me being 340 lbs, taking about 6 pills a day, and I might even be enough like my dad to pass on the tradition of violence to my kids like my dad did to me. And all because fucking Shane from 1st grade wouldn't let me play lava monster with him and his friends on the goddamn playground (some faggot name calling was later applied)... but I would later force that negligent-son-of-a-bitch into a cold, cold submission with my ruling fist at four square. Not for another three or four years though.