Over the years I've learned I am someone who spends all of their time thinking. Some say I am burdened with an overactive mind, but I try to focus on the positives of heavy reflection because it's my nature - I don't have the choice to tune down the mindspin. But every once in a while my thoughts get blocked by an idea and I feel trapped, powerless to think my way out. In theme with thinking about my future, my fears of personal failure have been cleating my brain, scraping away pink chunks. My academic performance last semester wasn't as dominant as expected. I only took three classes, so naturally there was less than the usual amount of signs that I was working on the right path. The semester break at home always blows my brain-wad after chatting with my parents and spending time with friends. I've returned to school knowing I have the responsibility of asking theses questions:
Am I doing the same thing as every college undergrad, only paying a shit load of more money? Am I burying myself in debt with unrealistic expectations of making my money back? Why didn't I stay in the Midwest?
I am too naive to properly answer any of these but I feel like I cannot live, or return to enjoyable patterns of thought, until I find some helpful clues. There are times when life forces you to search for a lesson. These questions are too serious for me to daydream through. I need to find someone with an answer, post haste!
This weekend, instead of boozing like a boozer, I judged at a high school debate tournament in Alpharetta, GA. I was there to make some bucks, so I lingered through round after round until late Saturday night, when most of the few hundred people attending that weekend had left. I had already read my Rolling Stone and was feeling lonely. With some time to kill before the final round I looked for someone to talk to. I sat down next to a tiny brown girl from India at the tournament information table and asked her if she knew what room my round was in. She didn't, so I started talking to her about other things. Our conversation went something like this:
Joel: "What grade are you in?"
Tiny Brown girl: "Junior."
Joel: "Where are you going to college?"
Tiny Brown girl: "Emory."
J: "Really? I go to Emory."
TBG: "Oh! What were your SATs?"
J: "I didn't take the SATs. But my ACT was bad."
TBG: "And they let you in?"
J: "Yep. But no scholarship or anything."
TBG: "They won't give me a scholarship either because I'm not a citizen. Are you doing medicine, business, or law?"
J: "I'm a creative writing major."
TBG: "Are you going to be a writer?"
J: "I don't know."
This is what a lot of conversations about my school look like, but then she starting giving me advice. She seemed certain about the goals everyone should have. The stern parenting I'm sure she had developed her into a career oriented person. The stuff that came out of her mouth was programmed into her head at an early age.
TBG: "You need to go to grad school. When you are 40 do you think you'll be talking about where you got your undergrad?"
J: "Probably."
TBG: "Undergrad is the same for everyone. You could be studying writing at UGA for free."
J: "You are right. I could have gone to school at home and stayed with my friends."
TBG: "Friends are something that you can make anywhere. You should never let friends get in the way of your career. Your career is everything. I would never let a boy get in the way of my career, medicine."
J: "Really? Never?"
TBG: "No way. How old are you?"
J: "21."
TBG: "You are depressed boy. You are letting a 16 year old tell you what to do with your life."
J: "But I think you know more about this stuff than I do."
TBG: "I have gone through a lot of stuff for my age, like relationships, death in the family. You should make the most of yourself. Success comes when you believe."
J: "I do believe. I am going to be successful. I am just scared of debt. But you are right, I've been slacking. Guys aren't very good at making decisions and sticking with them."
TBG: "That's the thing I hate about Americans. They are so lazy. They think life is easy, but it's not. You have to work hard. My math score wasn't always high but I studied and got a 700 and my parents still hate me. Americans didn't used to be lazy, but now they have everything handed to them and they don't get it. You should get a girlfriend."
J: "Yea, I figured that part out. But I've really been freaking out about everything else."
TBG: "It's okay depressed boy. It's good to talk to people about it because they give you ideas."
J: "Yea. Some of my friends talk to their psychiatrists, but I've never gone and seen one."
TBG: "You should."
I like it when people are straight-up with you. She made it sound like the only thing I can do is keep doing what I'm doing, which I knew all along. I just have to watch myself and make sure I'm not squandering my potential. Hopefully I can do that by talking with ya'll, my WandyTeeth family. I really love what is happening on here with all of the new blogs and fast paced comment action. Omaha seems to always bond together when school is not in session, but now that it is let's all try to keep loving eachother the best we can, push creativity to the max, and spread our words all over this site like a big warm blanket.
I don't know if it is because of the New Year, but I have been thinking a lot about making resolutions. I am well aware that I am now more than half way done with college and am living in a time where tons of important decisions must be made. I know you ambitious f*ckers out there already have your life-paths planned out, but while you have been trapped in responsibility and sobriety I have gone out of my way to live life like a college idiot, ridding on beers, bongs, and freshmen boobies. I feel the soul of that smooth song slipping away from me. For the last month my brain has been constantly zapping into mini ten second nightmares, where I have visions my current self in different versions of my future. I see myself failing at everything because I haven't grown up at all. I'm still living with all of the college-kid vices, shaky excuses for independence. In my dream last night I was standing in the doorway of my room with a bag of shitty pot in my hand. My eye doctor, the father of an elementary school friend of mine, walked up to me and shook my hand. He said he was here for a check up. My mom had agreed to get me contacts as a late Christmas present. She stood behind the doctor, hoping I'd enjoy her surprise gift. I lifted the bag of pot in the air. The doc grabbed my hand and brought the bag closer to his face. He turned, said "Excuse me," and walked out. My mother opened her mouth, slammed her hands over her face and balled. I was distraught because I wanted those contacts, and would have easily thrown out the swag.
I have the pressure of having to design a future that justifies my parents working heavy loads and selling everything they have so I can go to school. Still, I have been telling myself what I do is about me. I like to do a lot of things that are not smart. I love to freeload and abuse people and substances. In my attempts to live in a stress-free universe of fluid action unmoved by responsibility, disregarding all rules of decision making, I have turned into an asshole. With the life I have lived I should be saying "thank you" to every person I know, but instead my personality has become more self-destructive than ever. I say things I shouldn't and don't do the things I should.
To everyone: t, I am sorry about blogging about you. Jeff, I'm sorry I haven't cleared the air with you when that should have happened ages ago. Dave, I'm not sorry I always call you out on shit because somebody has to, but it probably isn't very nice. Rob, you shouldn't always talk about how you are going to write a TV show. Liz G, you never blog and you never wrote me back. I'd like to know if you care at all about what is going on on this site. Bess, I have always thought you are hot and smart. Chan, you are some kind of monk-genius to me and I love you. Naimul your success will eventually earn you billions of dollars if you don't spin off the earth first stressing yourself out. STC, I’d love to blaze with ya’ll and talk for about twenty minutes and then go play videogames. Tim you are cooler than me and listen to way cooler music than me.
Self destructive, but at least I didn't make a top ten list of reasons why I was awesome in 2006. Anyways, I have no choice but to make choices. I need to stop putting myself first and start becoming someone's bitch. This is why I want my own personal woman, but that is only part of it. I have reached the stage where I can no longer coast. I have to hobble and grind until I have strengthened my grasp on the world, then having earned the right to once again treat my body like a human science experiment.
Therefore my resolutions are:
1. Only spend time with Mary Jane up to six times a month and on special occasions.
2. Successfully court a quality woman in a healthy and genuine way and become her best friend.
3. Become a significant voice at Emory by writing for my school newspaper.
4. Become the most valuable player on my intramural basketball team. Win one playoff game. Make news.
5. Smell better.