Straight No Chaser

Break

(i have now started this entry five times today.)

break starts now, and i am going to break. no classes monday or tuesday, and i think four days is long enough to totally crumble, then pull myself together in time for class. i think it is. though, yes, my guesses are usually way off.

i'm in that place, again, where i'm having a hard time remembering what i'm even doing here. i hate school, right now. i was the first person to notice the misworded question on the government midterm today, first to point it out to the professor, and was rewarded with ten bonus points. which is what school is about, really--not so much hard work as just, luck and loopholes--and which would have given me involuntarily kegels, last year. a tiny accomplishment, but it will make a huge difference in my grade. and i didn't care. it didn't make me even a little bit happy, because everything else is going overwhelmingly wrong right now, and minor teacher's pet moments are no longer enough. they're just not. slightly more significant academic milestones, like the kickass average i'm supposed to get this semester, do even less. they make me snarl, even.

sooo confused. you just, when you're me, you just die under the pile of your own dichotomies. life was a straight line, for the first eighteen years, because college wasn't an option, it was a mandate. so too is grad school, really. or, slightly less so, maybe. immediate matriculation to grad/law school is eighty percent compulsory. that was never a problem, before, because i knew (and still know) that most of the major things i want to achieve are highly contingent on my getting a complete education. but the straight line has forked, and all i know is that i'm supposed to move forward. and plus, marcus and i, we were both reared to understand that no good can come out of becoming stagnant too early, that we have to develop fully as individuals before we can be any good at anything, much less dealing with each other. which i believe, having been provided no evidence to the contrary. our twenty is most people's fifteen, is the best way i can put it. but we've also been trained to trust our intelligence, and to assume that we'll understand most things better and earlier than most people. so, now that we have some context for love and connection, our shared instinct is trust ourselves on that, too. just, fuck. it is hard to reconcile those contradictory perspectives, is all.

i haven't written in my paper journal in over a month. how embarrassing. if this server ever crashes permanently, there will be an enormous hole in the otherwise steady documentation of my life.

on the bright side, i just decided what i'm going to give aunt susan for christmas. and i will probably start working on it this weekend.

on the brighter side, life on this particular pedestal isn't so bad. the view is nice, from up here.

later i have to go to sean's apartment to play poker, but i think i just decided that before that, i'm going to go rent "hocus pocus." and take a very long shower, and heat up some rice, and climb in bed, and self-indulge for as long as i am able. i wanted to write tonight, too. we're about to phase into the short story segment of my creative writing class, and wouldn't you know it, now i'm nervous. i had no problem writing shitty poetry and repetitive nonfiction pieces. she splooged all over them all, as i am a serious writer, and incapable of producing anything but the most ingenious masterpieces. the short story thing scares me, though, because i'm still psyching myself up for trying to get something published this year, and it just wouldn't be a good time for my literary idol to slay my dreams with her professional opinion. she is a pretty successful poet, moderately known but widely respected, and her professional opinion matters.

lastly, and then i think i shall conclude this patchwork entry, i think it's important to reiterate that i hate school, right now.

and dr. phil. i really hate dr. phil, sometimes. normally i have a giant crush on him. intellecutally, not physically. but lately, i don't know. i almost think he's started letting the mtv producers play around with his segues and stuff. picture of a blond girl with pompoms; computer-generated metal bars jump across the screen, clang. "cheerleader behind bars." cough kitschy cough. and then, on monday, a girl who says she "purges to pictures of mary kate olsen." bulima: veritable, serious issue. "i purge to pictures of mary kate olsen": ratings ploy. sigh. i still love you, phil. just, you're going to have to shape up before we can start living in the us again.

and chocolate almond bark, i hate that too, even though it's keeping me alive, currently.

there's a reason i'm prolonging this. i'm trying to remember what this entry was originally supposed to be about.

trying.

failing.

failing.

sigh.