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Sweet Dreams of Razors
Aug. 4th, 2003 01:57 amSummer classes finished a few days ago, and now I have three weeks off. Though I'm hardly giving my brain a break, as I've started re-reading Schopenhauer before taking the Nietzsche class. I'd read The World as Will and Idea before, but hardly retained anything from it, as that was during the Semester From Hell.
Friday, after turning in my paper and paying fall tuition, I bought some of my books for fall. I now own used but in excellent condition (no writing on the pages) copies of the Norton Shakespeare and the Riverside Chaucer. Three thousand pages of Shakespeare. It is by far the largest book I have ever owned. And the Riverside Chaucer is one of the prettiest I've ever owned. Both are worthy of the word tome.
Also on Friday I picked up a job application from the UNM office that my sister directed me to. But the company listed at the top is Aramark, and the job appears to involve food service. Somehow I was expecting something different. I'm not sure I'll actually turn the application in; I'm really not that desperate for a job, despite the pressures from my parents and sisters to get one. I am taking a full load of classes this fall, and I prefer to focus on school. Working and going to school, both full time, just doesn't seem like a feasible situation for me; I get little enough sleep with just school as it is. And I'm not driven by a desperate desire to get out of this house. Should I have such a desire? Well, I do, but it is not a driving force. I do foresee living elsewhere. (Somewhere not in the Land of Entrapment. Is it worth making my own nest here if I'm not planning to stay once I deem it time to return to Reed?) But on the other hand, it would be nice to have some money... I wish I didn't have to be so bound by such things!
The past two nights I've done impromptu things with friends, and Saturday had an excellent dinner of broiled salmon. Overall very pleasant. I have few complaints with things as they are. And yet, I'm less content than it seems I should be. I am neither happy nor unhappy; happiness is just not in the equation. It's a cold, stale place to be, and I grow cold and distant because of it. I must seem to care about nothing, the way I act. But numb and unloving seems better than anger once that anger gets tiring with nothing gained and nothing lost.
Friday, after turning in my paper and paying fall tuition, I bought some of my books for fall. I now own used but in excellent condition (no writing on the pages) copies of the Norton Shakespeare and the Riverside Chaucer. Three thousand pages of Shakespeare. It is by far the largest book I have ever owned. And the Riverside Chaucer is one of the prettiest I've ever owned. Both are worthy of the word tome.
Also on Friday I picked up a job application from the UNM office that my sister directed me to. But the company listed at the top is Aramark, and the job appears to involve food service. Somehow I was expecting something different. I'm not sure I'll actually turn the application in; I'm really not that desperate for a job, despite the pressures from my parents and sisters to get one. I am taking a full load of classes this fall, and I prefer to focus on school. Working and going to school, both full time, just doesn't seem like a feasible situation for me; I get little enough sleep with just school as it is. And I'm not driven by a desperate desire to get out of this house. Should I have such a desire? Well, I do, but it is not a driving force. I do foresee living elsewhere. (Somewhere not in the Land of Entrapment. Is it worth making my own nest here if I'm not planning to stay once I deem it time to return to Reed?) But on the other hand, it would be nice to have some money... I wish I didn't have to be so bound by such things!
The past two nights I've done impromptu things with friends, and Saturday had an excellent dinner of broiled salmon. Overall very pleasant. I have few complaints with things as they are. And yet, I'm less content than it seems I should be. I am neither happy nor unhappy; happiness is just not in the equation. It's a cold, stale place to be, and I grow cold and distant because of it. I must seem to care about nothing, the way I act. But numb and unloving seems better than anger once that anger gets tiring with nothing gained and nothing lost.
