|
bkn2right
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Janssen
Country: United States
State: New York
Birthday: 2/12/1983
Gender: Male
Interests: Adding yet more hilarity and horror to the Something Awful Forums. Reading Hunter S. Thompson, Neil Gaiman, Kurt Vonnegut, and other brilliant people. Whatever it is that I'm not being graded on knowing.
Expertise: A tenth of all Dylan songs. That Paris When it Sizzles is not called the Girl that Stole the Eiffel Tower. Hypothetical questions about which Marvel characters beat which DC characters
Occupation: Student
Industry: Other
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
4/5/2002
|
|
| I just wanted to make the brief announcement that the text of
Fahrenheit 451 failed to in anyway show up on my Cinema &
Literature exam, and that I've learned an important lesson about hard
work, and how people shouldn't actually do it.
| | |
| Without insomnia, I doubt this thing would exist. Instead of
going to sleep, I'm rereading Fahrenheit 451, pretending that I need to
do so in order to pass my film exam. I really don't, but busy
work is just that. How you keep busy, when your brain is too
preoccupied with nameless things to let you fall asleep.
Just got back from a quiet trip home. My mom's fine, and once I
get past the surreal image that her gall bladder is temporarily a
semicircular loop of tubing extending out of her body, it's all
copacetic. This entry isn't about that though. This is an entry
in summation of the whole be all and end all college experience.
It's full of nameless anxiety, existential wanderlust, and all those
words that I use when I have 25,000 word quotas to fill. I figure
that if there's a college entry essay, there might as well be a college
exit essay.
Let's start with an anecote which might not relate to the rest of the
entry. I fitted myself for my graduation hat and everything,
using that college education to figure out I could measure my head in
tie lenghths, and then measure the tie with a ruler, thereby screwing
over the worldwide tapemeasure syndicate. Creative problem
solving. Go go NYU.
So what valuable lessons have I picked up?
1.) I'm not the kind of person who should have come to this
school. I realize now that I was never really Stern
material. I just really don't give a damn, and I don't have the
ambition and priorities set to have really fit in here. NYC, I
still love and all. I just should have packed my bags for CAS
sometime in the middle of freshman year. If I had a wayback
machine, I would probably slap myself, tell myself to go into creative
writing and not give a shit about being employed. I would
probably also buy my younger self booze, which I don't think has been
explored enough in the time travel literature.
2.) Funemployed ought to be a word in the dictionary. I sort of
gave up the job hunt in January, and am going to restart it after
graduation. Until then, I've sort of chosen to not worry about
it, to force myself to take some time off until I can get myself sorted
out. I'm trying to strike a balance, to do the things in my life
I really enjoy, and also acquaint myself with what could be a lifetime
of being a white collar office monkey.
3.) Love is best left to the professionals.
4.) Lists are best ended at 3.
| | |
| It's another entry. At this level, we're approaching a streak.
Feeling less from day to day is not a terrible goal. If anything,
I've lived with a too intense manner of feeling, and so a subdued but
still vital calm is a very fine place to be. I have from time to
time fallen hard. Cared or sentimentalized way too much about
girls I've barely known. There've been cycles of fantasy,
romance, and disillusionment that've revolved through my life
like the seasons of the year.
And then something broke the seasons. I haven't figured out
what yet, only that when I reached back to find the expected sadness, I
didn't find much of anything. I'm now at a point where stopping
trying doesn't feel uncomfortable. Perhaps I've achieved some kind of
reckoning with myself where I don't mind being alone with myself from
day to day. I guess in a way, I'm settling for a more muted
future than I ever imagined. And I'm not sure if that's
resignation or growth or the two dovetailed together.
They say that a cynic is just a romantic who's lived longer, and if
they don't actually say it, they ought to. So as I walk someone
else through the crisis of being me circa a year ago, tonight, I just
wanted to get this entry out. Just my general opinion, that love
is a thing worth
waiting for, and to care stupidly and widely is worse than not caring
at all.
| | |
| I'm procrastinating on a dangerous and unprecedented level, as I'm not
even working on the college bowl packet (ie. recreational fun work)
that I should be using to distract me from studying for my poli-sci
midterm (ie. actual work).
Nothing much has happened today (and not in that ironic sense in which
King George II wrote that the day the American colonies declared
independence). We went to bar trivia. We played as an
offensive name. We won two hundred dollars. We bought shwarma.
I am in a very strange and muted way, completely happy with my
life. I don't think I have a particularly rich life, or a lot
going for me, but I seem to be ok with that.
| | |
| Wow. That... that rocked.
Thanks everybody for making the 22nd so unbelievably awesome.
Hold the Line. | | |
|
|
