Sigh.
Where has time gone?
It's already mid-November, and my fall semester is quickly approaching its twilight, along with my 4 year sentence here at Rutgers State Prison.
Naw, I'm just playing. This place isn't really a prison. Or is it?
We pay thousands of dollars to be treated like tiny little gears in a giant machine that abuses people for 4 (or 5 or 7) years, and hands them a little piece of paper on their way out that says, "Thanks for playing! Your parting gift is a journey to the unknown. The world of uncertanties and hypocrisies awaits you. By the way, would you mind giving more money to the place that has warped you irrepairably?"
But I'm not bitter.
I watched "The Shawshank Redemption" on tv last night. I've seen it before, so I didn't really mind the fact that I fell asleep and missed the last 1/3rd of it. But I got to thinking today about the part where Brooks committed suicide because he couldn't deal with life on the outside. And Red talks about how you hate prison at first, then you learn to deal with it, then you start to depend on it. I kinda feel the same way, but in a different way.
At first, I loved college. Then I hated it. Now it's become such a part of my life that I don't know what it's going to be like to not be here anymore. There's something oddly comforting about living in half of a 10 by 15 room, surrounded by cinder blocks, with tile and commercial carpeting under your feet. You've got your pictures and posters on the walls, your knickknacks on your shelves, and you favorite pillow on your tiny twin bed. There's the silent battle between you and your roomate for control of the airspace (I had my stereo playing until my roomate came in and turned on the tv, forcing me to put my headphones again. I'm deep in a philosophical rant and cannot be bothered by a "Will and Grace" rerun blaring (literally) in the background). You've got your daily battles with your alarm clock...mastering the nuances of the snooze button. You have to love the snooze button. It is your friend...until it fails to work and you end up being late to class again. The simplicity of getting up and going to class, going home and doing homework is almost idyllic at times.
I fear that I have become institutionalized into college life. My fears become compounded when I realize that I have no fucking clue about what my life will be like after that glorious day in May when I will be handed my freedom papers once again and be a highly educated member of our messed up society.
I'd give anything to have graduated college about 6 years ago. I'd snag some cushy office job with a ludicrous sign-on bonus and not have to worry about anything.
But this is where the Millenium Class is. All of us kids who graduated high school in 2000 were told of the bright future that we had ahead of us. The economy was great, and we had every opportunity available to us...in four years.
What a load of oversentimentalistic crap.
No one has a clue as to what they're doing when they graduate.
My mom is sympathetic to my situation, which is only somewhat comforting. She had it easy. By the time she was my age, she was engaged to my dad, who had a secure job and his own apartment. We agreed that life was a lot simpler back then. Not necessarily easier, but simpler.
I'm realizing that for the second time in my life, I'm allowing myself to be willing to settle for the easier, less glamorous lifestyle than the one I've dreamed of for most of my life. Seriously: the ratio of people who dream about becoming famous actresses to the people who actually do it is ridiculous. I honestly have a better chance of winning the lottery and becoming a dillettante. (BTW, that's what I'm telling people I'm going to do with my post-graduate life. It's a smart-ass college kid answer, and I only have a few more months to milk it for all it's worth.) What could be so wrong with finding some well paying job that I can easily leave when I have kids? The more I think about it, living in some nice little suburb somewhere with my husband, two sons, daughter, and a Jack Russell terrier doesn't sound half bad. There's nothing wrong with being a soccer mom. I can learn to drive a SUV and slice oranges for half time. I've already experienced the art of youth sports, as well as band concerts, Scouting, and science projects. I might not be able to help the kids with math homework past 5th grade, but I can learn how to throw kick-ass birthday parties. My mom always says, "Raising children is for young folks."
But then again, I'm getting way ahead of myself.
My whole plan in life was to go to college and then magically become a famous actress, make a buttload of money, then change the face of Hollywood and television as we know it. There's no time for having kids in that kind of a career path. I'd be too busy shooting movies in exotic locales and avoiding tabloid scandals and looking glamorous for awards shows. Toddlers aren't exactly the red carpet accessory du jour.
Honestly: What the hell am I thinking?!?
I had this whole notion in my head that the whole white picket fence, 2.5 kids thing was so provincial, so suburban, so....blah. I was going to be glamorous, metropolitan, and exciting. I guess that I forgot somewhere along the way that I grew up in the suburbs. That's all that I know. Not being an actress isn't giving up a dream or selling out, it's facing the facts and saving myself a lot of dissappointment and debt.
But if I do give up this crazy dream that I've had all my life, am I dooming myself to a mid-life crisis where I become bitter about never following my dream? Will I end up being one of those moms that irons her kids' clothes with a mimosa in hand, sitting in the back of PTA meetings and sharing snarky gossip about the president's affair with a newly divorced dad, giving my kids $20 each to go to the mall just so I can get some quiet in the house, turning over the dog to an animal shelter and telling the kids that "Sparky ran away," and complaining that my husband and I hadn't been on a vacation since our honeymoon in the Bahamas oh-so-many years ago? *deep breath*
Something tells me I've watched a bit too much television in my day.
I guess I need to really sit down and figure out what the hell I'm going to do with the rest of my life. That's what I've been trying to do now...doing the whole "stream of conciousness" blog today.
I shall take a break and update my ever dwindling audience on my life at the present.
Working at the toy store again this year for the holidays. I like to look at it as a daily lesson on how NOT to raise children (dammit, I'm not supposed to be thinking about that!). My measly paychecks only amount to something when I save them up and then deposit 3 weeks worth of pay. By that time I'm essentially replacing what I've funneled out of my savings account, covering new charges on my creadit card, and I have a little bit left over to waste on things like dinner at Red Lobster and other random excursions.
Life with Phil, my boyfriend, is good. I feel bad that I haven't been able to spend a lot of time with him this semester. I've been so busy with school and working on the weekends that when he's come down for a weekend I'm either too busy to spend any real time with him or I'm too tired to do anything really fun. But we call each other every few days and talk about everything and I think he understands. I know he's really busy too with all of his school stuff, so it seems to work out pretty well. I'm eagerly awating Christmas break so we can go and spend more time together like we did in the summer. We've already tossed around the idea of visiting the Crayola factory in Pennsylvania because we were both inspired by the little movie on "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" that showed how crayons get made. And I know we'll go and do stuff in the city and see lots of movies and find other cool stuff to do. I'm inviting him to my house for Thanksgiving dinner, and I'm pretty sure he'll be coming. I'm uber excited about that. We're also in the preliminary stages of planning our spring break trip to Walt Disney World. I've been determined to do spring break at the Mouse House since freshman year, and I finally found someone who's willing to act like a 5 year old for a week with me. :0) All in all, I'm discovering every day how great it feels to be in love with someone and to have the same person love you right back.
(Apologies to anyone who's not in the same situation. My statements are not intended to make anyone want to throw themselves into the Raritan River, but simply an expression of how happy I am after being very unhappy for a long time.)
So I guess that's all I've got to say for now. I've got a big birthday coming up (yesssssssss!!!!!!), and I'm really busy, so I don't know when I'll be writing again. So I hope you all have enjoyed my philosophical rants, my lovesick raves, and my overusage of New York Times vocabulary words. Hasta la vista!
Where has time gone?
It's already mid-November, and my fall semester is quickly approaching its twilight, along with my 4 year sentence here at Rutgers State Prison.
Naw, I'm just playing. This place isn't really a prison. Or is it?
We pay thousands of dollars to be treated like tiny little gears in a giant machine that abuses people for 4 (or 5 or 7) years, and hands them a little piece of paper on their way out that says, "Thanks for playing! Your parting gift is a journey to the unknown. The world of uncertanties and hypocrisies awaits you. By the way, would you mind giving more money to the place that has warped you irrepairably?"
But I'm not bitter.
I watched "The Shawshank Redemption" on tv last night. I've seen it before, so I didn't really mind the fact that I fell asleep and missed the last 1/3rd of it. But I got to thinking today about the part where Brooks committed suicide because he couldn't deal with life on the outside. And Red talks about how you hate prison at first, then you learn to deal with it, then you start to depend on it. I kinda feel the same way, but in a different way.
At first, I loved college. Then I hated it. Now it's become such a part of my life that I don't know what it's going to be like to not be here anymore. There's something oddly comforting about living in half of a 10 by 15 room, surrounded by cinder blocks, with tile and commercial carpeting under your feet. You've got your pictures and posters on the walls, your knickknacks on your shelves, and you favorite pillow on your tiny twin bed. There's the silent battle between you and your roomate for control of the airspace (I had my stereo playing until my roomate came in and turned on the tv, forcing me to put my headphones again. I'm deep in a philosophical rant and cannot be bothered by a "Will and Grace" rerun blaring (literally) in the background). You've got your daily battles with your alarm clock...mastering the nuances of the snooze button. You have to love the snooze button. It is your friend...until it fails to work and you end up being late to class again. The simplicity of getting up and going to class, going home and doing homework is almost idyllic at times.
I fear that I have become institutionalized into college life. My fears become compounded when I realize that I have no fucking clue about what my life will be like after that glorious day in May when I will be handed my freedom papers once again and be a highly educated member of our messed up society.
I'd give anything to have graduated college about 6 years ago. I'd snag some cushy office job with a ludicrous sign-on bonus and not have to worry about anything.
But this is where the Millenium Class is. All of us kids who graduated high school in 2000 were told of the bright future that we had ahead of us. The economy was great, and we had every opportunity available to us...in four years.
What a load of oversentimentalistic crap.
No one has a clue as to what they're doing when they graduate.
My mom is sympathetic to my situation, which is only somewhat comforting. She had it easy. By the time she was my age, she was engaged to my dad, who had a secure job and his own apartment. We agreed that life was a lot simpler back then. Not necessarily easier, but simpler.
I'm realizing that for the second time in my life, I'm allowing myself to be willing to settle for the easier, less glamorous lifestyle than the one I've dreamed of for most of my life. Seriously: the ratio of people who dream about becoming famous actresses to the people who actually do it is ridiculous. I honestly have a better chance of winning the lottery and becoming a dillettante. (BTW, that's what I'm telling people I'm going to do with my post-graduate life. It's a smart-ass college kid answer, and I only have a few more months to milk it for all it's worth.) What could be so wrong with finding some well paying job that I can easily leave when I have kids? The more I think about it, living in some nice little suburb somewhere with my husband, two sons, daughter, and a Jack Russell terrier doesn't sound half bad. There's nothing wrong with being a soccer mom. I can learn to drive a SUV and slice oranges for half time. I've already experienced the art of youth sports, as well as band concerts, Scouting, and science projects. I might not be able to help the kids with math homework past 5th grade, but I can learn how to throw kick-ass birthday parties. My mom always says, "Raising children is for young folks."
But then again, I'm getting way ahead of myself.
My whole plan in life was to go to college and then magically become a famous actress, make a buttload of money, then change the face of Hollywood and television as we know it. There's no time for having kids in that kind of a career path. I'd be too busy shooting movies in exotic locales and avoiding tabloid scandals and looking glamorous for awards shows. Toddlers aren't exactly the red carpet accessory du jour.
Honestly: What the hell am I thinking?!?
I had this whole notion in my head that the whole white picket fence, 2.5 kids thing was so provincial, so suburban, so....blah. I was going to be glamorous, metropolitan, and exciting. I guess that I forgot somewhere along the way that I grew up in the suburbs. That's all that I know. Not being an actress isn't giving up a dream or selling out, it's facing the facts and saving myself a lot of dissappointment and debt.
But if I do give up this crazy dream that I've had all my life, am I dooming myself to a mid-life crisis where I become bitter about never following my dream? Will I end up being one of those moms that irons her kids' clothes with a mimosa in hand, sitting in the back of PTA meetings and sharing snarky gossip about the president's affair with a newly divorced dad, giving my kids $20 each to go to the mall just so I can get some quiet in the house, turning over the dog to an animal shelter and telling the kids that "Sparky ran away," and complaining that my husband and I hadn't been on a vacation since our honeymoon in the Bahamas oh-so-many years ago? *deep breath*
Something tells me I've watched a bit too much television in my day.
I guess I need to really sit down and figure out what the hell I'm going to do with the rest of my life. That's what I've been trying to do now...doing the whole "stream of conciousness" blog today.
I shall take a break and update my ever dwindling audience on my life at the present.
Working at the toy store again this year for the holidays. I like to look at it as a daily lesson on how NOT to raise children (dammit, I'm not supposed to be thinking about that!). My measly paychecks only amount to something when I save them up and then deposit 3 weeks worth of pay. By that time I'm essentially replacing what I've funneled out of my savings account, covering new charges on my creadit card, and I have a little bit left over to waste on things like dinner at Red Lobster and other random excursions.
Life with Phil, my boyfriend, is good. I feel bad that I haven't been able to spend a lot of time with him this semester. I've been so busy with school and working on the weekends that when he's come down for a weekend I'm either too busy to spend any real time with him or I'm too tired to do anything really fun. But we call each other every few days and talk about everything and I think he understands. I know he's really busy too with all of his school stuff, so it seems to work out pretty well. I'm eagerly awating Christmas break so we can go and spend more time together like we did in the summer. We've already tossed around the idea of visiting the Crayola factory in Pennsylvania because we were both inspired by the little movie on "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" that showed how crayons get made. And I know we'll go and do stuff in the city and see lots of movies and find other cool stuff to do. I'm inviting him to my house for Thanksgiving dinner, and I'm pretty sure he'll be coming. I'm uber excited about that. We're also in the preliminary stages of planning our spring break trip to Walt Disney World. I've been determined to do spring break at the Mouse House since freshman year, and I finally found someone who's willing to act like a 5 year old for a week with me. :0) All in all, I'm discovering every day how great it feels to be in love with someone and to have the same person love you right back.
(Apologies to anyone who's not in the same situation. My statements are not intended to make anyone want to throw themselves into the Raritan River, but simply an expression of how happy I am after being very unhappy for a long time.)
So I guess that's all I've got to say for now. I've got a big birthday coming up (yesssssssss!!!!!!), and I'm really busy, so I don't know when I'll be writing again. So I hope you all have enjoyed my philosophical rants, my lovesick raves, and my overusage of New York Times vocabulary words. Hasta la vista!
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