Into the void...

2003-11-19

9:52 a.m.

It would appear that I was wrong. I admit it. I was wrong. It is now two days after my twenty-sixth birthday, and I am still alive. I was wrong to think that I would be dead by the age of twenty-six.

Now what?

I don’t know if it’s entirely related to the whole being unexpectedly alive thing, but I am in an absolutely wretched mood lately. I can’t seem to tolerate anything. I still feel like I’m about to go off the deep end, and I’m starting to feel like I’m out of control about it.

God I hate it.

I recently received all sorts of nice gifts from my family and Rob for my birthday, and I really love everything I got. Unfortunately, the printer my parents bought for me is apparently defective and has to be returned to Amazon, which is going to take a long time. It’s annoying.

But that’s not really the problem, either.

I hate my job. I hate the people I work with. I hate the way the world works. I hate that I have to bend over backwards to help people, and then when I go to get something done for me, nobody does anything to help. Yesterday, I spent half an hour standing around waiting for people in another office here at the university and all I needed to do was ask a simple question. I’m a fellow employee. You’d think they could offer some assistance to a fellow employee. Granted, customers first, then fellow employees.

But for Christ’s sake help someone.

My professor in my one class is pissing me off because I’ve been reading 600 pages a week for this man, then I go to class to discuss the novel and the criticism we read, and he consistently tells me that my opinion is wrong. Then he goes on to tell me in very black and white terms why my opinion is wrong. The world is not fucking black and white, my friend. Come ON. There are shades of gray. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. Just because he’s a well-known scholar doesn’t mean he’s always right. It only means he THINKS he’s always right.

(This professor is not, by the way, Dennis Lehane. This is a different class I’m talking about.)

I have to read 100 pages a day today and tomorrow before I can start reading the book that I need to write a paper on for the Monday after Thanksgiving. My family is coming up for Thanksgiving, and I am freaking the hell out about it because my family always makes me nervous, and I won’t have time to work on my paper. So, I’m doubly worked up about the stupid paper that wouldn’t be a big deal if it weren’t for the lack of time in which to write it. This, of course, is not to mention the fact that I will also have to give an oral presentation on the paper that Monday, so it’s not like I can write the paper early and forget about it over Thanksgiving weekend. If I do that, I won’t even remember the names of the characters in the book.

That’s how bad my memory has gotten.

I don’t know. I’m just randomly pissed at the world. Maybe it’s because I’m ingesting too much caffeine. Maybe it’s because I’m not getting enough sleep. Maybe it’s because nobody thinks my opinion has any importance. Maybe it’s because I hate my coworkers. Maybe it’s because I don’t have time to read 600 pages a week, work full-time, and still write my novel. I don’t what the fuck it is.

But I feel like absolute shit.

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