Well today is the first day of school for the new semester and I'm a little worn out from my latest self made melodrama. At least this time it was relatively short and not a month long fall into smitteness and anguish. But I have to get myself together now because school is starting back up and I want to be on the ball this semester. Gotta keep improving and keep working towards actually doing some work.
And yet...I have no motivation at the moment. Maybe it's just the coming back from time off blues, maybe it's the profound disapointment of the last couple days, maybe it's just this cold I have. But I have class in 2 hours that I need to be ready for cause it's the second semester of a two semestern course and we're gonna jump right in. No way that I can do the 200 page reading in time but I can perhaps start it and maybe get ready for the level of focus I'm going to need to make some meaningful comments and keep my class participation up.
At least my friend Hee-Ann will be back from California soon, someone to talk to who has at least a MODICUM of maturity. But still I can't help but dread the start up costs for the semester. The emotional and mental strain required to get up and running, like an accelerating engine trying to go zero to sixty as fast as possible. (That's miles not Kilometers per hour for the foreign crowd) And it's made worse by the memory of her, clinging to my mind like the scent of the last pomegranete of the season. A distraction I don't need, can't take, can't escape. College is supposed to be training us for life in and out of the classroom. Let's see, boredom and busywork in the class and soul-rending loneliness and rejection outside. Yep, seems pretty much what I expect from my life. I'd write more but I have to read something some guy who died several thousand years ago wrote, probably while drunk. That's how we get educated you know.
Today turned out somewhat better than I expected. After my lit hum class which I was EASILY able to make meaningful comments during (for a variety of reasons none of which was that I had finished reading the text) I met up with an old high school aquaintance and we stood outside the supermarket talking for about an hour. I remember him best from seventh grade when we were in the same homeroom and we used to take the bus home together (later on in high school we ran with different crowds and sort of drifted apart) but he seemed friendly enough and we chatted about old times and the present. He reminded me that despite my skewed perception the U.S. is not the "Real world" any more than any other country is. I don't know why that should be neccesary to point out but it definitly was an awakening I needed so the conversation was productive. We ended promising to exchange emails and maybe we will. It's good to know that my early college problems can be gotten over by at least SOME people. He's a good guy, I should keep in touch with him, even though today was SUPPOSED to be partially about switching from high school self to college self and he didn't help with that. But that's not his fault.
Having spent the time that I had planned to use for a light lunch and some exercise chatting with Nemanja I just checked my email and headed to my next class, Japanese history. It was a pretty good intro class, nothing got said but the class looks interesting and the professor seems pretty smart. Plus I get to learn about the Meiji era and Revolution and I've wanted to ever since watching Rurouni Kenshin, so that's a plus. Nothing spectacular there really.
Afterwards I just headed home and grabbed some grub then went to my Statistics class (after watching the end of the People's court of course) Statistics basically sucked, the teacher was this Chinese woman who spoke english remarkably poorly and as quietly as if she was whispering to someone during an Opera, not teaching a class of murmering college students. She also drew TINY graphs on the board that nobody could read. On the upside she said that she would be being replaced by a new professor next week, and a guy from my Spanish class (Adam) is in the class so at least I'll know someone to email for homework or help with tough problems. He's an economics major as is Hee-Ann, wierd coincedence since they are both GS students and near the same age.
Besides I understood most of the concepts anyway and as long as I work decently hard I should be fine. I won't, but I'll probably give it a try.
Anyway that was a pretty bland entry, not up to my usual standards, but sometimes just recording the events of one's life is enough. I should go exercise now and maybe get some dinner, then I'll be back with some possibly meaingful thought. But today is about getting back into a rythm not about being deep. I do enough navel gazing anyway, sometimes you just gotta live.
The search for meaning in life is fraught with pitfalls. And I'm not talking about climbing some Tibetan mountain to find a wise old monk, I'm talking about everything from internal soul searching to organized religion. You might think that searching for meaning can only be a good thing, but I disagree. You see when your life is meaningless (or percieved as such) it lends you a certain freedom of behavior and from standards. Without meaning you are responsible for maintaining a certain standard of living for yourself and perhaps avoiding doing too much harm to others. But once meaning is found this changes. Let's say you find meaning in rescuing abused children from their parents. Suddenly your responsibilities expand astronomically as you still have to care for you and yours, while also worrying about every single kid out there that's suffering at the hands of them that bore him, including those you don't and can't know about. You're suddenly faced with an impossible task. Or if you find meaning leaving a mark on the world. Now you actually have to DO it...it becomes a prevention rather than promotion focus (that means that instead of focusing on achieving something you are focusing on NOT failing to achieve it). A responsibility.
And if you LOSE your meaning somehow it's like a parent losing a child. Once something becomes that organic a part of you and is wrenched from you, you end up suffering so much worse than if you never had it. Meaning can help you grow in wonderous ways but you might find your roots unable to support you, and the fall from a great height is worse than that from a small one. Growth can be fatal if you are bound in a cage.
Why am I talking about all of this? Because human connection is part of meaning and that's what I've been trying to achieve lately and have FAILED at. And it hurts me on levels I don't even understand yet. The loneliness hurts more when you know it's there even if you reach out. There seems to be no justice in the world. Oh well, at least I will be taking JUSTICE tomorrow so I'll find out whether that's true or not. Good to know that college has all the answers for every question that plagues mankind. Can you actually choke on your own sarcasm? I don't know...I don't even understand my own inclinations anymore. Do I want to seriously discuss the issue of passion and meaning and loss or do I want to indulge myself with jokes that only I find amusing?
All I know is that I want some sort of meaningful mentally heavy distraction. A crisis or a deep philosophical question. I want to stop thinking about how alone I am and how I've managed to spend this much time at college and make only one serious connection, and not even a particularly close one. I don't want to think about living with and hating my mother. I don't want to think about the fact that it's almost wednesday and she hasn't written even to say "Have a nice semester see ya never." I don't want to think about all the school work that is to come or what I will do after college. I want to be absorbed by something in the here and now until I can no longer see outside the moment.
The trouble with meaning you see is that once you know what it is you feel the need to pursue it, and it's never in a convenient or simple place. I see so MANY potential meanings and I can't reach any of them anytime soon. A watched life never blossoms. But everywhere my eyes sacade the mirrors seem to follow and my own face stares back accusing me saying "why are you watching YOURSELF?"
And I can only answer with a sigh.