Clinging to the earth by a single blade of grass.
I read that on some plaque my dad has on his wall of "I Love Myself" dedications. It had something to do with being sober, I think. The wording just popped into my head today as I sat and thought about the universe and my place in it. You know: if I have one, where it is, if I'll ever get there, blah blah blah. Will I be happy? Will I see it coming? What is going to happen? My time is slipping away faster and faster, and the knots in my stomach are getting large and tight. I honestly don't have one damn clue where I'll be going or if I'll be going. The conclusion to my 23rd year and the commencement of the 24th isn't something I'm all that thrilled about.
I'm clinging to the face of the earth by a single blade of grass. This is the metaphor that I think all people are referring to when they tell someone to "get a grip." Or as my Dad used to say when he was trying to be cool: "Go to the grip store and come back with a full bag." I prefer "get a grip" to that waste of syllables. My mother's weekly phone calls have been ending exactly the same way for the past couple months. "Things will work out, sweety." But how???
I've been feeling less and less lucky lately. When I need at least half of the lights to be green so that I get where I'm going on time, they're all red, sometimes twice. If there are no stop lights, I'm stuck behind a cop. Can't pass a cop. Last night I'm at Java Lounge talking to an acquaintence named James who manged to piss off at least half a dozen people, therefore making me an asshole by association. He hates Student Government... ...there was a senator named Lola sitting right by him. He hates republicans, especially Bush. There were, of course, several people around him that were conservative and vocal about it. And then he made sure all of his controversial bases were covered by saying that any Jew who approves of the ethnic clensing of Palestinians has no right to sympathy for the Holocaust. I won't even pretend like I know hardly anything at all about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. All I know is that they're fighting. Needless to say, he pissed off a couple of Jewish girls sitting near by. I honestly just wanted to work on the cube GUI. Now I've been lumped into the category of political fanatic because James can't help but let his mouth run faster than his mind can keep up.
My mind couldn't keep up either. He covered almost every single dirty little weird thing society has to offer. I think he got it ALL. If the place hadn't closed, I'm convinced he would have started to repeat himself. I was there for about five hours, and because of the amount of time he spent ensuring people were paying attention to him, I probably only got about an hour's worth of work done. I really really should have put some music on.
Deb cancelled Kill Bill so that she could study for a quiz. Being in such a bad mood already, I really didn't want to say anything to her that I might regret. If my buttons have already been pressed, then it takes a lot of restraint to not be short with the people who are around me in person, and even more restraint to not be overly harsh with those who are just words on a screen (at the moment). Being raised Catholic, I convinced myself that this was my fault somehow. That I was daring to enjoy the things around me, so the universe had a big "Oh ya? Fuck you!" laying in wait. Like that song by Nickelback: Somethings Got To Go Wrong Cuz I'm Feeling Way Too Damn Good. The fact was that I dared to look forward to something. Mistake. The instant you form an expectation of any kind, you're setting yourself up for disappointment. I went to Java Lounge expecting to get work done. Another "Oh ya? Fuck you!" from the universe. Not industrious and brilliant programmer. No no. Political outrage is now my banner just because I was there, and I was listening. Well, fixing dinner and enjoying Kill Bill went out the window, so I did beef lo'mein and a very early bedtime.
These are all horrible symptoms that I'm moving against the cosmic grain of the universe. Bob Segar: "Running Against The Wind". I need green lights, I get red lights. No cops, please?? Cops everywhere. No pickles, please?? Extra pickles. Female companionship?? Dream on. A delicious meal?? Indigestion followed by the runs. Movie night?? Cancellation. A job for the spring?? Ha!! Wisdom?? Happiness?? Fulfillment????? I can't even get the right order at Taco Bell. No matter how hard we may struggle, ultimately our fate is determined by a thousand separate things pushing on us at all times from all angles that are totally outside our sphere of control. I mean GOD DAMN. Is it so much to ask: "No pickles, please???" A person may operate under the assumption (for a while, at least) that the more goodness he sends out into the vastness of the system that it's making some sort of difference. It isn't. Some days you just wish that just a few things would line up for you. Just a few. But they probably won't, and it always seems to be that way when you hope for it the most.
I feel like I'm running for my life and my shoes keep getting untied. And I do mean that. I feel like I'm running for my life. I'm scared. One way or another, the life I now know is going to end in less than two months. And I don't even know what is coming next! I've applied for jobs all over the nation, but I haven't heard ANYTHING back. The only suggestions I've gotten from my mother stink with her own selfish desires and wants. My older sister wants me to move to Virginia hoping that I'll find something. JESUS. The only suggestion I've gotten so far that seems at all close to definite is to just stay here in this place doing nothing. I've been doing next to nothing for too long now.
My life feels so empty. I go to Hollywood Video at least twice a week searching for something to fill me up for at least a few hours. Something I haven't seen that will make me feel good. Something I have seen that I've long forgotten about. Well, you know what? Those are just little bits of nothing I'm trying to use to feel level. I'm afraid to watch my favorite movies because I'm scared that I won't enjoy them anymore. Movies are my drug of choice. And that is just as sad as anything else. I can't even be an addict seeking an escape from my reality with something exciting, like sex drugs and alcohol.
I have this dream in my head of what things would be like if everything worked out the way I want it to. And it isn't even like I'm wanting to win the lottery and have some easy life. I want a life that is full of challenges. Right now, there is no challenge. I'm unchallenged. I'm totally disengaged. I'm living some limp pseudo-existence that only dimly ressembles the sort that I'd like to have. I want to learn. I want to work. I want to support myself. I want a job for the spring. I want graduate school. I want to do the work. I want to get the degree. I want to fight for it. I want to grow stronger, and smarter. I want to shed blood and sweat and read until my eyes hurt. I want good books. I want to make my own way. I want to get the sort of happiness that only comes from struggle and REAL accomplishment!!! I'm not asking for a fucking free ride from ANYONE!!! But I'm not even given the chance to do any of this! And why? Because of a little number called a GPA. If I was a fucking professional student here JUST to get the best grades and settle for the mediocrity that comes from being swept along by the system, then I'd have a 3.5 gpa and I'd be the shit-hot gift to the world in the eyes of employers and admission boards. Taking rocks for jocks, mans food, and age of dinosaurs. But noooo. I had to take up this romantic notion that college is meant for LEARNING and becoming better than you were. No no. The secret to success is to absorb juuuust enough so that you can get a good grade on the test and then let it all just fall out of your head because you GOT THE GRADE. It doesn't matter who you are as a person or what you're truly capable of because grades are the single most important factor in determining the worth of a human being.
I'm clinging to the face of the earth by a single blade of grass. This is the metaphor that I think all people are referring to when they tell someone to "get a grip." Or as my Dad used to say when he was trying to be cool: "Go to the grip store and come back with a full bag." I prefer "get a grip" to that waste of syllables. My mother's weekly phone calls have been ending exactly the same way for the past couple months. "Things will work out, sweety." But how???
I've been feeling less and less lucky lately. When I need at least half of the lights to be green so that I get where I'm going on time, they're all red, sometimes twice. If there are no stop lights, I'm stuck behind a cop. Can't pass a cop. Last night I'm at Java Lounge talking to an acquaintence named James who manged to piss off at least half a dozen people, therefore making me an asshole by association. He hates Student Government... ...there was a senator named Lola sitting right by him. He hates republicans, especially Bush. There were, of course, several people around him that were conservative and vocal about it. And then he made sure all of his controversial bases were covered by saying that any Jew who approves of the ethnic clensing of Palestinians has no right to sympathy for the Holocaust. I won't even pretend like I know hardly anything at all about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. All I know is that they're fighting. Needless to say, he pissed off a couple of Jewish girls sitting near by. I honestly just wanted to work on the cube GUI. Now I've been lumped into the category of political fanatic because James can't help but let his mouth run faster than his mind can keep up.
My mind couldn't keep up either. He covered almost every single dirty little weird thing society has to offer. I think he got it ALL. If the place hadn't closed, I'm convinced he would have started to repeat himself. I was there for about five hours, and because of the amount of time he spent ensuring people were paying attention to him, I probably only got about an hour's worth of work done. I really really should have put some music on.
Deb cancelled Kill Bill so that she could study for a quiz. Being in such a bad mood already, I really didn't want to say anything to her that I might regret. If my buttons have already been pressed, then it takes a lot of restraint to not be short with the people who are around me in person, and even more restraint to not be overly harsh with those who are just words on a screen (at the moment). Being raised Catholic, I convinced myself that this was my fault somehow. That I was daring to enjoy the things around me, so the universe had a big "Oh ya? Fuck you!" laying in wait. Like that song by Nickelback: Somethings Got To Go Wrong Cuz I'm Feeling Way Too Damn Good. The fact was that I dared to look forward to something. Mistake. The instant you form an expectation of any kind, you're setting yourself up for disappointment. I went to Java Lounge expecting to get work done. Another "Oh ya? Fuck you!" from the universe. Not industrious and brilliant programmer. No no. Political outrage is now my banner just because I was there, and I was listening. Well, fixing dinner and enjoying Kill Bill went out the window, so I did beef lo'mein and a very early bedtime.
These are all horrible symptoms that I'm moving against the cosmic grain of the universe. Bob Segar: "Running Against The Wind". I need green lights, I get red lights. No cops, please?? Cops everywhere. No pickles, please?? Extra pickles. Female companionship?? Dream on. A delicious meal?? Indigestion followed by the runs. Movie night?? Cancellation. A job for the spring?? Ha!! Wisdom?? Happiness?? Fulfillment????? I can't even get the right order at Taco Bell. No matter how hard we may struggle, ultimately our fate is determined by a thousand separate things pushing on us at all times from all angles that are totally outside our sphere of control. I mean GOD DAMN. Is it so much to ask: "No pickles, please???" A person may operate under the assumption (for a while, at least) that the more goodness he sends out into the vastness of the system that it's making some sort of difference. It isn't. Some days you just wish that just a few things would line up for you. Just a few. But they probably won't, and it always seems to be that way when you hope for it the most.
I feel like I'm running for my life and my shoes keep getting untied. And I do mean that. I feel like I'm running for my life. I'm scared. One way or another, the life I now know is going to end in less than two months. And I don't even know what is coming next! I've applied for jobs all over the nation, but I haven't heard ANYTHING back. The only suggestions I've gotten from my mother stink with her own selfish desires and wants. My older sister wants me to move to Virginia hoping that I'll find something. JESUS. The only suggestion I've gotten so far that seems at all close to definite is to just stay here in this place doing nothing. I've been doing next to nothing for too long now.
My life feels so empty. I go to Hollywood Video at least twice a week searching for something to fill me up for at least a few hours. Something I haven't seen that will make me feel good. Something I have seen that I've long forgotten about. Well, you know what? Those are just little bits of nothing I'm trying to use to feel level. I'm afraid to watch my favorite movies because I'm scared that I won't enjoy them anymore. Movies are my drug of choice. And that is just as sad as anything else. I can't even be an addict seeking an escape from my reality with something exciting, like sex drugs and alcohol.
I have this dream in my head of what things would be like if everything worked out the way I want it to. And it isn't even like I'm wanting to win the lottery and have some easy life. I want a life that is full of challenges. Right now, there is no challenge. I'm unchallenged. I'm totally disengaged. I'm living some limp pseudo-existence that only dimly ressembles the sort that I'd like to have. I want to learn. I want to work. I want to support myself. I want a job for the spring. I want graduate school. I want to do the work. I want to get the degree. I want to fight for it. I want to grow stronger, and smarter. I want to shed blood and sweat and read until my eyes hurt. I want good books. I want to make my own way. I want to get the sort of happiness that only comes from struggle and REAL accomplishment!!! I'm not asking for a fucking free ride from ANYONE!!! But I'm not even given the chance to do any of this! And why? Because of a little number called a GPA. If I was a fucking professional student here JUST to get the best grades and settle for the mediocrity that comes from being swept along by the system, then I'd have a 3.5 gpa and I'd be the shit-hot gift to the world in the eyes of employers and admission boards. Taking rocks for jocks, mans food, and age of dinosaurs. But noooo. I had to take up this romantic notion that college is meant for LEARNING and becoming better than you were. No no. The secret to success is to absorb juuuust enough so that you can get a good grade on the test and then let it all just fall out of your head because you GOT THE GRADE. It doesn't matter who you are as a person or what you're truly capable of because grades are the single most important factor in determining the worth of a human being.