(no subject)
Mar. 29th, 2004 11:31 am( Damn, I'm a pervert! Heh... )
Geeezz... I can't believe it's the end of the semester already! Where did the time go? (Oh... into my capstone. Nevermind.)
Eee... I'm afraid to graduate. The rhythm of the last five years-- a time period which I have mostly enjoyed-- is over, and I worry that the best time of my life is drawing to a close. What if I don't get into seminary school; what if I'm stuck working a crappy blue-collar job (can we say Wal*Mart) for the rest of my life? What if everything goes wrong? What if I spend my entirely life living in this country, and never am able to afford to leave it?
What do I do if I feel myself sliding down the vortex into the sucking swamp of American lower-class mediocrity: drowning in bills and work that consists of stocking shelves until my back aches constantly; dreaming "of getting out, of getting anywhere," but stuck in second gear with the engine overheating until the damn thing explodes from the strain?
Horror of horrors, what if I end up like my mother?
I know that's not a rational train of thought. I'm stronger, smarter, more stubborn, more resourceful than my mother. I know that I can accomplish more...that I deserve better, and that I will see that I do what I want to do, even if it means fighting against the odds for years.
If I don't get into seminary right away, I can still take classes there and bring my GPA up until they let me in full-time. I can always move to Canada. I can always write for newspapers or magazines, selling free-lance to other publications. I have marketable skills. I'm not helpless.
I'm just afraid, and worse-case scenarios are the easiest to envision.
I have plenty to look forward to: hanging out with Tom (who no doubt will be the first to take me to a gay bar); living in an urban area and the pleasures that go with that; seminary classes; joining one of the Cities UU fellowships; having my bachelor's degree; maybe visiting Scout, a rat-breeder friend who lives in St. Paul, or even visiting/helping O.J. again, who owns the wolf pack at WolfWoods.
Mmmm... being stomped into the dirt by a trio of happy, 120-pound arctic wolves. ^.^ Life doesn't get any better than that!
Geeezz... I can't believe it's the end of the semester already! Where did the time go? (Oh... into my capstone. Nevermind.)
Eee... I'm afraid to graduate. The rhythm of the last five years-- a time period which I have mostly enjoyed-- is over, and I worry that the best time of my life is drawing to a close. What if I don't get into seminary school; what if I'm stuck working a crappy blue-collar job (can we say Wal*Mart) for the rest of my life? What if everything goes wrong? What if I spend my entirely life living in this country, and never am able to afford to leave it?
What do I do if I feel myself sliding down the vortex into the sucking swamp of American lower-class mediocrity: drowning in bills and work that consists of stocking shelves until my back aches constantly; dreaming "of getting out, of getting anywhere," but stuck in second gear with the engine overheating until the damn thing explodes from the strain?
Horror of horrors, what if I end up like my mother?
I know that's not a rational train of thought. I'm stronger, smarter, more stubborn, more resourceful than my mother. I know that I can accomplish more...that I deserve better, and that I will see that I do what I want to do, even if it means fighting against the odds for years.
If I don't get into seminary right away, I can still take classes there and bring my GPA up until they let me in full-time. I can always move to Canada. I can always write for newspapers or magazines, selling free-lance to other publications. I have marketable skills. I'm not helpless.
I'm just afraid, and worse-case scenarios are the easiest to envision.
I have plenty to look forward to: hanging out with Tom (who no doubt will be the first to take me to a gay bar); living in an urban area and the pleasures that go with that; seminary classes; joining one of the Cities UU fellowships; having my bachelor's degree; maybe visiting Scout, a rat-breeder friend who lives in St. Paul, or even visiting/helping O.J. again, who owns the wolf pack at WolfWoods.
Mmmm... being stomped into the dirt by a trio of happy, 120-pound arctic wolves. ^.^ Life doesn't get any better than that!
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