So what does all this have to do with anything? Well right now I feel pinned in like that in terms of my life. There's no room for movement, no place where I can stretch out my arm and pop my elbow back into place.
Edward got a C+ in Spanish 1201. He's happy with it. I asked him why and he replied that he's in school to learn. That's the sort of thing that I used to say, but it's no longer really true. It's not that I don't WANT to learn, I mean I'm doing all my WWII class readings because they are fascinating, not for the grade, but my fear of getting a C is greater than my fear of not picking up all the nuances of how prozac interacts with synapses in order to alleviate depression (Yeah, it selectively inhibits the re-uptake of seratonin, but what that does is a bit more complex and I didn't fully master it because I didn't see how it would help me NOW). The thing is that the higher my GPA gets the less room I have for error. I wrote many moons ago that I'm more afraid of LOSING ground than I am concerned with gaining it, and so the higher my GPA gets the higher I need to keep it to prevent myself from slipping down lower and getting slammed in the head with a pile of cognitive dissonance.
Edward wants to be a writer, he's enrolled at the writing program here and he takes his wordsmithing rather seriously. I wanted to be a writer for most of my life, hell when other boys wanted to grow up to be firemen or policemen or cowboys (someone really should tell kids that there's not much use for cowboys anymore before they set their sights on driving cattle) I just wanted to write. I think the fact that I not only don't write anymore but don't even really WANT to write anymore speaks volumes about just how much idealism and...YOUTH...I shed when I decided to do the whole overachiever thing (not that I'm a FULL overachiever yet, I don't have enough extra-cirriculars or the perfect overachiever girlfriend with which to have an ice cold relationship with a pretty surface and a putrid, rotting, core) I don't know...I want to explore but I have no time/energy to. It's all being used up just maintaining the status quo of my life.
Is this what they call responsibility? Is this the nature of a life of conventional success? What the hell's the point? I'll ride it out to see if it leads anywhere (it's not like slacking did anyway) but I think that my...inherent disatisfaction with life is not going to be resolved merely by success and accomplishment.
That's sort of sad. I thought that the whole American SCHTICK was that success=gladness and that being better off means that you feel better.
Meaning meaning where are you found?
P.S. Did anyone else see the Robin Williams show on HBO? There were some laugh out loud funny moments (Like "That is one ugly Panda Bitch. I would not fuck her. I would not even fuck her with a Koala's dick. If you were a Panda you'd know just how ugly that Panda Bitch is." - On why importing Chinese Panda bears to the zoos often fails to produce offspring.) but there were also some rehashes of old material (Golf clothes=too loud for pimps. That was funny in 1986 when you told it for the FIRST time on TV Robin) and some hopelessly outdated schticks (What the hell are you still blathering about Tiger Woods the black golfer for? He's been LONG accepted as a professional golfer. It's too old and out of date to be funny.)
It was like he had stored up 10 years of stand-up and unleashed it all at once with no thought as to what was current or funny anymore. He was a crude image of his former stand-up self...something was just off. For every hilarious titty joke there was an out of place and bizzare reference to Mike Tyson ear biting.
I don't know...I'm still a fan of Robin's but it's sad to see what happens to people when they get old. I've been thinking recently about how little in the way of greatness has been accomplished by people 50-80 years old. True it's not NOTHING, I mean there have been plenty of great fairly oldish presidents and certainly one could not very well argue that Einstein failed to accomplish anything after the age of 40 or whatever, but there's a lot to be said for youthful energy.
And I don't really have any.
I've tinkered with my life so much I don't know what to change anymore and yet things are still not as they should be.
Life should come with an instruction manual.