I have been floating deeper and deeper into a despair unlike I've ever known. I'm willingly throwing my post secondary career away, and why? Isn't this what I want for myself? Is it? I cannot be sure anymore. Am I meant to toil away for 4 more years in order to do something I'm not sure will even exist when I am done? Can I really be expected to function within this oppressive and regressive state of mine(d)? Can L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E? MY world is tearing apart at the seams and I'm more than happy to let it go.
I hate.
JR
2.26.2010
2.24.2010
expression
that is how I
feel and that is how it
is
feel and that is how it
is
ABSOLUTE. ™
FOREIGN.
FOREIGN.
I am the sum
of what
I am
not.
By now there may not be a later.
As a person, on an individual level, I do not matter.
I am replaceable.
of what
I am
not.
By now there may not be a later.
As a person, on an individual level, I do not matter.
I am replaceable.
I am reduced to a tax bracket
and a social security number
which secures me nothing.
and a social security number
which secures me nothing.
molecularly, I am interchangeable
nameless/shameless
forever.
into oblivion
nameless/shameless
forever.
into oblivion
2.19.2010
transitivity 1.2
I need a plant.
Maybe a Bonzai tree
or something.
Just a plant. Something living,
breathing,
growing
in my room.
Something alive.
Maybe a Bonzai tree
or something.
Just a plant. Something living,
breathing,
growing
in my room.
Something alive.
That is all.
2.18.2010
transitivity
Still, nothing has changed; I'm sitting in my room listening to classical music, trying desperately to cling to some form of an idea for an essay that once again holds my entire University career in its little wordy grasp.
Roomie got a new kitten. NewCat sleeps soundly in Roomie's bed, while Cat1.0 terrorizes the house -- and me in the process - at midnight. Isn't that the way things go?
I'm eating peaches; I've been making an effort to eat healthier these days, and it has been slow going. I've been eating more carrots, peaches, tomatoes, strawberries, and fruit in general, but it still doesn't seem like enough.
Meanwhile, I'm starving, I have a fridge full of rotting food, and I get paid tonight some time. I'm living on Lemonade, Soda Crackers, and Peaches. I feel like that kid in the book "Holes".
Revamped my goal-board. I now have divided the goals into three categories:
1. This Month I Will:
- find theme songs
- do something daring
- volunteer
- write down three things daily that make me happy
- do yoga
- breathe
- have 5 positive interactions per day
- go to the movies
- learn to meditate
2. Within 3 Months I Will:
- Achieve and maintain a 3.3 GPA
- take the stairs once a week
- become involved in a cause i believe in
- plant a garden
- work out once weekly
- bike more
- get out of Visa debt
- eat healthy
3. This Year I Will:
- write a book
- go to London
- Drive to Seattle
- begin a radio show
- gain 20 lbs
I think putting a time-limit on my goals will help me stay on track. However, I find myself getting more and more stressed as time goes on, which leads me to....
Work.
I'm working 30-35 hours/week. This is too much. Far too much. I want to cut that down to 20-25. Hopefully that will allow me time to do homework/relax/read/write/generally start eating better. Hopefully the stress will subside soon.
In other news, most of the people currently working there are quitting. One girl is done next wednesday, another is handing in her two week's notice tomorrow, and yet another will quit at the first chance he gets. Turnover turnover, yet again.
Until tomorrow,
I remain,
Hopelessly Ambiguously Yours,
JR
Roomie got a new kitten. NewCat sleeps soundly in Roomie's bed, while Cat1.0 terrorizes the house -- and me in the process - at midnight. Isn't that the way things go?
I'm eating peaches; I've been making an effort to eat healthier these days, and it has been slow going. I've been eating more carrots, peaches, tomatoes, strawberries, and fruit in general, but it still doesn't seem like enough.
Meanwhile, I'm starving, I have a fridge full of rotting food, and I get paid tonight some time. I'm living on Lemonade, Soda Crackers, and Peaches. I feel like that kid in the book "Holes".
Revamped my goal-board. I now have divided the goals into three categories:
1. This Month I Will:
- find theme songs
- do something daring
- volunteer
- write down three things daily that make me happy
- do yoga
- breathe
- have 5 positive interactions per day
- go to the movies
- learn to meditate
2. Within 3 Months I Will:
- Achieve and maintain a 3.3 GPA
- take the stairs once a week
- become involved in a cause i believe in
- plant a garden
- work out once weekly
- bike more
- get out of Visa debt
- eat healthy
3. This Year I Will:
- write a book
- go to London
- Drive to Seattle
- begin a radio show
- gain 20 lbs
I think putting a time-limit on my goals will help me stay on track. However, I find myself getting more and more stressed as time goes on, which leads me to....
Work.
I'm working 30-35 hours/week. This is too much. Far too much. I want to cut that down to 20-25. Hopefully that will allow me time to do homework/relax/read/write/generally start eating better. Hopefully the stress will subside soon.
In other news, most of the people currently working there are quitting. One girl is done next wednesday, another is handing in her two week's notice tomorrow, and yet another will quit at the first chance he gets. Turnover turnover, yet again.
Until tomorrow,
I remain,
Hopelessly Ambiguously Yours,
JR
2.13.2010
Only good days caught on camera.
"You do know that signaling after you've changed lanes doesn't do shit all for the person behind you."
I sometimes wonder why I'm here.
Scratch that.
Let's start again:
I ALWAYS wonder why I'm here. This city is the 18th circle of hell and the only people who think so are those who aren't originally from here. I fear for my life every day I drive, dodging pedestrians who think J-Walking is legal, motorists who don't know what a signal light is for --or just don't know what they are-, and customers who can't read a FUCKING sign. I hate this city with a passion. Hate it. See? I hate it so much I used italics. I get more and more stressed out every day I'm here, and I don't see an end to it all. I just can't keep going on like this.
I can't.
something's gotta give.
Yours,
Hopelessly ambivalent,
JR
I sometimes wonder why I'm here.
Scratch that.
Let's start again:
I ALWAYS wonder why I'm here. This city is the 18th circle of hell and the only people who think so are those who aren't originally from here. I fear for my life every day I drive, dodging pedestrians who think J-Walking is legal, motorists who don't know what a signal light is for --or just don't know what they are-, and customers who can't read a FUCKING sign. I hate this city with a passion. Hate it. See? I hate it so much I used italics. I get more and more stressed out every day I'm here, and I don't see an end to it all. I just can't keep going on like this.
I can't.
something's gotta give.
Yours,
Hopelessly ambivalent,
JR
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