Rant maybe?
I am in a weird fucking mood. I can't quite figure out where it's coming from--irritable, bored, restless--I'd swear someone slipped some caffine in my salad if I didn't know any better.
I've also recognized the fact that I have not read a piece of literature with a capital L in two years. I can't remember the last time I had a Jane Austen moment, snickered with Wilkie Collins, or swelled with Henry James. Where the fuck is Joseph Conrad? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SECRET AGENT? That poor, fat bastard. I'll tell you--my GODDAMN ORALS. I have not been able to pick up a single book from the era covered in my Orals. Why? because I'm appalled. Embarassed. Henry James in particular is too painful to read because I was a COMPLETE IDIOT during my Orals. Some people, when they panic, freeze up or babble inanely. With me, my brain freezes and my mouth keeps going, while I manage to look like I know what I'm doing without a single reasonable idea passing from my mouth. I fucked up my orals so royally that I have not been able to look at even one of my favorite authors or books in two years. I can't believe I am not fucking over this yet. When I realized this fact at lunch I nearly started crying. How the hell do you get over failing what you thought you knew best? I don't even want that fucking PhD anymore, I know I'm over that, but when do I get to read again? I can't remember the names of my favorite fat characters anymore--that was going to be my fucking dissertation! Count Fosco, where are your friends? Whenever I try to read something from my "period," I just feel shame. So I amble through random science fiction, new york times best sellers, smart people books that people recommend to me, trying to broaden my horizons or something. But, it all feels hollow--I have nothing interesting to say about them or think about them, I just absorb, like a bottom feeder. I don't watch TV anymore, I don't cook, I live in fucking Santa Clara, what am I doing with my evenings? Going to the stupid gym. Why? Because I'm fat and I got dumped and it's the only thing I can control. And I don't think when I work out. I feel myself getting stupider and stupider daily--I hang out with friends and parade around a shadow of my former smarter self--spouting "clever" tales or random facts I learned from CNN. The only kinds of conversations I find myself engaged in are full of of how I feel, how they feel, my past, or gossip. Where did all my ideas go? Shit, I never had any. I'm not fucking creative. People make shit all the time, and I just absorb it. Yesterday, we were playing with clay and I couldn't think of anything to make--so I made a cow. Then I made a wave with a boat on it, like that painting, then... I ran out of ideas. That was it, done. People have hobbies, they make stuff, they do stuff--what's my hobby? To find a career. To lose weight. To spend as much time as possible with other people so I never have a moment to suspect that I'm still that loser from elementary school running across the playground, dodging teachers, trying not to be seen during boys against girls freze tag, only dimly aware that no one is chasing me. To have a fucking transformative moment so I can be a better, stronger person. What a load of ass.
And you know what else--it's day 5 of my first non-birth control pill menstrual moment and I AM STILL BLEEDING. And why the fuck do I find Donald Rumsfeld is charismatic--he's an asshole spouting shit.
I've also recognized the fact that I have not read a piece of literature with a capital L in two years. I can't remember the last time I had a Jane Austen moment, snickered with Wilkie Collins, or swelled with Henry James. Where the fuck is Joseph Conrad? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SECRET AGENT? That poor, fat bastard. I'll tell you--my GODDAMN ORALS. I have not been able to pick up a single book from the era covered in my Orals. Why? because I'm appalled. Embarassed. Henry James in particular is too painful to read because I was a COMPLETE IDIOT during my Orals. Some people, when they panic, freeze up or babble inanely. With me, my brain freezes and my mouth keeps going, while I manage to look like I know what I'm doing without a single reasonable idea passing from my mouth. I fucked up my orals so royally that I have not been able to look at even one of my favorite authors or books in two years. I can't believe I am not fucking over this yet. When I realized this fact at lunch I nearly started crying. How the hell do you get over failing what you thought you knew best? I don't even want that fucking PhD anymore, I know I'm over that, but when do I get to read again? I can't remember the names of my favorite fat characters anymore--that was going to be my fucking dissertation! Count Fosco, where are your friends? Whenever I try to read something from my "period," I just feel shame. So I amble through random science fiction, new york times best sellers, smart people books that people recommend to me, trying to broaden my horizons or something. But, it all feels hollow--I have nothing interesting to say about them or think about them, I just absorb, like a bottom feeder. I don't watch TV anymore, I don't cook, I live in fucking Santa Clara, what am I doing with my evenings? Going to the stupid gym. Why? Because I'm fat and I got dumped and it's the only thing I can control. And I don't think when I work out. I feel myself getting stupider and stupider daily--I hang out with friends and parade around a shadow of my former smarter self--spouting "clever" tales or random facts I learned from CNN. The only kinds of conversations I find myself engaged in are full of of how I feel, how they feel, my past, or gossip. Where did all my ideas go? Shit, I never had any. I'm not fucking creative. People make shit all the time, and I just absorb it. Yesterday, we were playing with clay and I couldn't think of anything to make--so I made a cow. Then I made a wave with a boat on it, like that painting, then... I ran out of ideas. That was it, done. People have hobbies, they make stuff, they do stuff--what's my hobby? To find a career. To lose weight. To spend as much time as possible with other people so I never have a moment to suspect that I'm still that loser from elementary school running across the playground, dodging teachers, trying not to be seen during boys against girls freze tag, only dimly aware that no one is chasing me. To have a fucking transformative moment so I can be a better, stronger person. What a load of ass.
And you know what else--it's day 5 of my first non-birth control pill menstrual moment and I AM STILL BLEEDING. And why the fuck do I find Donald Rumsfeld is charismatic--he's an asshole spouting shit.