according to my transcripts, my college career spanned 17 years.
granted, a good decade of that was not exactly concentrated study.
i suppose it hit me as i was lying in bed last night, a hypnogogic tickle that set a wide smile across my face.
and then i started laughing, and i kept laughing while i wondered if the neighbors could hear me. i couldn't stop. i wasn't really thinking about anything, this apparent happiness was an emotion that had kept itself hidden from me.
there is no lava for a thousand miles from here, but i'd venture to guess that if you were to dig deep enough, there's magma everywhere.
the night before, i fell asleep with the same almost painful smile. all the pent up smiles that had been laid off for the past few weeks saw a help wanted sign as i thought about her. their families were starving, they all rushed back to work. restless cheek syndrome. the teeth all exposed themselves shamelessly.
an almost two month tour of duty through the hell of my increasingly demanding job compounded with all the major projects of the semester made me thin and silent and sullen. two out of the three turned out well, though i felt like i'd copped out when i turned in a bunch of songs to my poetry teacher.
the eight-page thesis paper over the texts for migration literature was a week late, five pages short, and by my standards, quite weak.
the weekends were the only days that i could hope to do any studying and reading, contemplating and writing, catching up from the time i took off during wedding season. of course, those were the days i was consistently scheduled to work. it almost seemed like a conspiracy to block my success; every time i thought i was going to catch a break, something would come up at work--a pop-up luncheon on thursday, a short-notice family gathering that required catering on tuesday. i sacrificed hours of study and days of sleep to do things that included folding hundreds of slices of turkey and ham, weighing and patting cases of ground beef into half-pound patties, cooking and carving countless briskets, and hand-cranking dozens of potatoes through the chip cutter each night, leaving my already callused palm riddled with blisters.
i couldn't imagine that anyone would take time out of their schedule to drive out to hee-haw on a saturday morning to sit through a two-hour ceremony for one minute of applause, but it didn't matter anyway; i couldn't afford announcements, and i probably wouldn't have put them in the mail on time anyway.
keeping in mind the ridiculous runaround that the university has given me over the last four years, i feared a jinx; i didn't talk about it very much, didn't call many of my friends to tell them. the few people i told about it kept commenting on how excited i must be, but as far as i could tell, i felt nothing. i shut myself in and pulled closed the blinds of stress.
thursday night, i ended up staying up until 7am friday, trying to put together a decent thesis paper. three hours later, i walked to campus, for what i assume was the last time, to turn in my unimpressive work. i walked to the bookstore to return all my textbooks, another place i'll never enter again. an hour later, i went to work, cooked for and fed 150 very hungry amish people. saturday morning i woke up, dressed, put my cap and gown in a plastic bag and walked to the arena downtown. i found my family in the crowd and was a little bit relieved to not see any other relatives. when the droning speaker finally announced that it was time to move the tassel to the left side of the mortarboard, i was being a little bit sarcastic when i told the girl sitting next to me that it "felt so significant!" it caught me off guard when she agreed with me--i wasn't sure what the truth was. after it was all over, my folks wanted to go out to eat, which is something i don't do in this town, as i avoid meat and am uninterested in any restaurant here aside for the sushi place, which doesn't appeal to my family (to put it in perspective, the finest restaurant in town is applebee's). i felt like such an asshole as i couldn't hold back all my disdain for everything in and about hee-haw. i try not to complain too much, but when i'm with my family, and especially when it comes to food, i become painfully self-conscious about how difficult i am to truly please, much less impress. to keep the peace, i often end up eating what i consider garbage and much like when the conversation turns to religion, i keep my opinion to myself. my place was a mess, so i didn't want my folks to come in and hang out. i had an overwhelming desire to just be alone; i likened the feeling to postpartum depression. my mother even called me out on it when little bits of my negative attitude slipped out between bites of patty melt: "are you depressed?"
"is that a trick question?"
i've let this town get to me. it's totaled my car, damaged my credit, guaranteed at least a decade of debt, taught me more than i ever wanted to learn about loneliness, and so on. discontent, sure, but i'll not be defeated like all the people who made the mistake of calling this place home. there is no future for me here and i've never felt any sense of belonging, never intended on doing anything other than school, and it would appear that every time i've tried to accomplish anything other than school here, it was a complete disaster.
my next move is to take advantage of the fact that my boss knows she's not qualified to be my boss.
i'll be working full time, going through the motions of bailing out a sinking ship until i can save enough money to move at least as far as my parents' place. then i'll do it again until i can move further down the road, migrating toward the place i belong, wherever that may be. i have a couple of ideas, but i'll keep them to myself.
for now.
granted, a good decade of that was not exactly concentrated study.
i suppose it hit me as i was lying in bed last night, a hypnogogic tickle that set a wide smile across my face.
and then i started laughing, and i kept laughing while i wondered if the neighbors could hear me. i couldn't stop. i wasn't really thinking about anything, this apparent happiness was an emotion that had kept itself hidden from me.
there is no lava for a thousand miles from here, but i'd venture to guess that if you were to dig deep enough, there's magma everywhere.
the night before, i fell asleep with the same almost painful smile. all the pent up smiles that had been laid off for the past few weeks saw a help wanted sign as i thought about her. their families were starving, they all rushed back to work. restless cheek syndrome. the teeth all exposed themselves shamelessly.
an almost two month tour of duty through the hell of my increasingly demanding job compounded with all the major projects of the semester made me thin and silent and sullen. two out of the three turned out well, though i felt like i'd copped out when i turned in a bunch of songs to my poetry teacher.
the eight-page thesis paper over the texts for migration literature was a week late, five pages short, and by my standards, quite weak.
the weekends were the only days that i could hope to do any studying and reading, contemplating and writing, catching up from the time i took off during wedding season. of course, those were the days i was consistently scheduled to work. it almost seemed like a conspiracy to block my success; every time i thought i was going to catch a break, something would come up at work--a pop-up luncheon on thursday, a short-notice family gathering that required catering on tuesday. i sacrificed hours of study and days of sleep to do things that included folding hundreds of slices of turkey and ham, weighing and patting cases of ground beef into half-pound patties, cooking and carving countless briskets, and hand-cranking dozens of potatoes through the chip cutter each night, leaving my already callused palm riddled with blisters.
i couldn't imagine that anyone would take time out of their schedule to drive out to hee-haw on a saturday morning to sit through a two-hour ceremony for one minute of applause, but it didn't matter anyway; i couldn't afford announcements, and i probably wouldn't have put them in the mail on time anyway.
keeping in mind the ridiculous runaround that the university has given me over the last four years, i feared a jinx; i didn't talk about it very much, didn't call many of my friends to tell them. the few people i told about it kept commenting on how excited i must be, but as far as i could tell, i felt nothing. i shut myself in and pulled closed the blinds of stress.
thursday night, i ended up staying up until 7am friday, trying to put together a decent thesis paper. three hours later, i walked to campus, for what i assume was the last time, to turn in my unimpressive work. i walked to the bookstore to return all my textbooks, another place i'll never enter again. an hour later, i went to work, cooked for and fed 150 very hungry amish people. saturday morning i woke up, dressed, put my cap and gown in a plastic bag and walked to the arena downtown. i found my family in the crowd and was a little bit relieved to not see any other relatives. when the droning speaker finally announced that it was time to move the tassel to the left side of the mortarboard, i was being a little bit sarcastic when i told the girl sitting next to me that it "felt so significant!" it caught me off guard when she agreed with me--i wasn't sure what the truth was. after it was all over, my folks wanted to go out to eat, which is something i don't do in this town, as i avoid meat and am uninterested in any restaurant here aside for the sushi place, which doesn't appeal to my family (to put it in perspective, the finest restaurant in town is applebee's). i felt like such an asshole as i couldn't hold back all my disdain for everything in and about hee-haw. i try not to complain too much, but when i'm with my family, and especially when it comes to food, i become painfully self-conscious about how difficult i am to truly please, much less impress. to keep the peace, i often end up eating what i consider garbage and much like when the conversation turns to religion, i keep my opinion to myself. my place was a mess, so i didn't want my folks to come in and hang out. i had an overwhelming desire to just be alone; i likened the feeling to postpartum depression. my mother even called me out on it when little bits of my negative attitude slipped out between bites of patty melt: "are you depressed?"
"is that a trick question?"
i've let this town get to me. it's totaled my car, damaged my credit, guaranteed at least a decade of debt, taught me more than i ever wanted to learn about loneliness, and so on. discontent, sure, but i'll not be defeated like all the people who made the mistake of calling this place home. there is no future for me here and i've never felt any sense of belonging, never intended on doing anything other than school, and it would appear that every time i've tried to accomplish anything other than school here, it was a complete disaster.
my next move is to take advantage of the fact that my boss knows she's not qualified to be my boss.
i'll be working full time, going through the motions of bailing out a sinking ship until i can save enough money to move at least as far as my parents' place. then i'll do it again until i can move further down the road, migrating toward the place i belong, wherever that may be. i have a couple of ideas, but i'll keep them to myself.
for now.