September 14, 2012 - 10:07
I am going to be a 28 year old sophomore in college in 2 weeks.
I like school. I am lost now, on this break, without it.
I've gotten one tragic B (a high one, a FLUKE), and it crushed me. I cried. I moaned. If I don't let it happen again I will have a 3.98 in the Spring. It won't happen again.
I keep internally referring to what I've got as Lisa Simpson syndrome.
Starting the second week I will have a job at school, working in the writing center.
I feel fortunate to have it, it's year long, school credit, pays, and I am one of only 4 students.
I didn't apply. My writing teacher asked me to, and when the head of the writing department interviewed me over the phone, he asked me: "Why do you think you should."
I said: "Because Mrs. Engberg told me I should."
My writing teachers, over the course of my life, have always told me I should "write more", but I don't know what that means. I write all the time. I assume they think I should be writing fiction or something.
I googled my new boss. He's a published writer of filthy poetry.
In combination with Music Theory, (YOGA), and the last quarter of Mathematics for this year, I am looking very much forward to this quarter.
I am currently working on my break at the same place I worked almost 1 year ago. Today I reorganized my own reorganizing job and felt like the last year didn't even happen.
I miss 7 to 10 people very much, daily.
I am successfully able to pay my rent most months by hocking things I find and like on the internet. Learning hustling lessons along the way.
I am looking for some kind of "meditative" practice that works for my noisy brain. Lately I've tried sitting with my eyes closed and thinking about my mother's details. Remembering her, and realizing she is gone, is something that I am trying to work into my life in a way that doesn't shut me down. Sometimes it works. Other times I end up shutting down.
My health is mostly fine, but it's possible I'm losing my looks (inevitable).
I spend most of my time alone.
I do girly naturopathic shit like put honey and yogurt on my face.
I've been wearing this stocking cap I made pretty much all day for weeks, and every time I see myself in the mirror I feel like a REAL man.
I've kept my room kind of clean for a month.
I hadn't eaten out for weeks until last night when I engorged myself at a buffet (at least I wasn't alone).
I've learned to cook, kind of. At least I am feeding myself more nutritionally balanced mash ups. Everything I know about it I learned from watching Ryan. (The other day he said, after I admired the way he cut the vegetables "I noticed that you like it better when I cut them smaller....just like a little guy".)
I drink less, but I do really like to drink one beer while driving (not drunk driving, just drinking one drink while driving, at night). This is an action I do not take lightly, but I think it fulfills a similar thrill to people who like to fuck in public places.
Speaking of my sex drive is off the charts and I am back in high school mode of orgasming inconveniently. I came on my bike two days ago.
I've begun to shed like my mom. There is hair in all my food and in all crevices cracks and crannies.
I think I am probably depressed, and feel few highs, and few lows. I am just "here".
I've begun recording songs for kicks and play the piano a lot.
Music, the cats, sexual intercourse=
only joys.
I need to be watching more movies.
I will take what I can get.
Real Life, September edition.