C.R.E.A.M.

Nevada Day - Part I

I have real issues with books.

Now that I have got my money situation somewhat under control (or as much as it can be for a student) I found myself wandering around town today aimlessly trying to spend my money on a winter coat, then a book (I wanted 'Of Grammatology' by Derrida), then I wanted a coffee, notepad and pen to sit with in Starbucks. I have never felt so pointless. It seemed I was in a lonesome and disgraceful state of idleness.

My issue with books is that, although I have wanted to be a 'noble' academic young man, capable of intellectual discussions about my course material and more, I have always lacked the motivation and ability to simply sit down and read a book. I go into book shops or walk through the library in awe of all the possibilities that a book can offer and all the thoughts of writers and the theory of writing and criticism and journeys that they offer - yet, I do not read them. It is the most frustrating situation. Throughout the last two and a bit years here at university, with unlimited access to this massive library and all its knowledge within, I have failed time and time again to grasp the opportunity and actually read and learn something.

I say I am determined to not fall into the footsteps of my father (now a retired labourer) or those of my contemporaries from high school and college; the common types you will find here in England: the latest ‘peacock’ style hair cut, cheap suits, horrific cars and an enlarged ego, with little to no concept of what life is beyond going to work and getting boozed up at the weekend.

- It is a life that I wish to avoid at all costs. -

Right now, I am headed in that direction. It is extremely frustrating. As I walk through town and observe life as it is happening, I wonder how people manage to drag themselves out of bed every morning, eat, read and prepare their public demeanour and put up with all the little stresses and annoyances that go along with mornings and find their way to work. Cope with the annoying colleague, daze away and do their job with real hate. Recently, here in the UK, a television show has just started called ‘PhoneShop’. It is made up of characters that you are likely to find in your local phone shop: savvy, aggressive with making sales, extremely confident and at a peak of self-marketability. The shop itself really propagates the British way of living for the young male and young woman: get the latest phone so that you can text your drunk insignificant other in the back alley or smoking area of some club on a Saturday night, pleading for forgiveness or yelling at them over some trivial matter.

On the odd occasion that I make it to a seminar, I feel my observant scope of life widened dramatically. It feels as if I can take in, during a single breath, the history of our nation or that of America and see it as a whole burning entity with no consistent temperature, revealing to me that we as humans really are just one whole big emotional mess. Easily manipulated and easily led, corrupted by power and continually seeking the preservation of oneself. This is such a one-way view however. I can say this with a frown, the hotness of this student infested library computer room making me speak with a bitterness, but then I look outside. The autumn leaves on the upper brows of tress and the distant silhouette of my old on-campus accommodation and my tone and heart rises to a hopeful degree. This is the inconsistency of man and proof that we will never ever make it to the end and find answers. There is no real ‘one whole answer’ to what we need to do or how things are meant to be.

An absolute disgrace.