Thursday, November 21, 2013

Gratuitous

I open my eyes upon a day that's too long before it's even began. The clock reads 5:29 AM. I steel myself for the onslaught but it does me no good. The bleating lasts an eternity. I lash out in all directions, swatting aimlessly, succeeding only in knocking the alarm under the bed. From there, it's louder somehow.

I roll over and pop a pill.

The road is lousy with bad drivers. I navigate the heathen, dripping, sneezing, sweating, hacking. My eyes are on fire, my brain packed in wool. Twice, I slam on the breaks to avoid imaginary vehicles. The road pays out beneath my car. The world rushes past, an inconsequential blur, a movie.

Blowing my nose on my sleeve, I pop a pill.

My nose is stuffed shut. I stare at the monitor, gasping like a fish, like a predator, like an inexperienced high school lover. My skin is tighter than yesterday, old, clammy, cold to the touch. This isn't my nose. This isn't my skin.

I take more pills.

My ears are too hot and too cold. It's much too hot in here. I draw my coat around myself, shivering. Sweat pours down the back of my neck. My shirt is tacky with it, sticking and un-sticking itself to my skin. This is torture. This is hopeless.

I try not to move and pop another pill.

Vacation lingers just out of reach, a phrase on the tip of my tongue that I can't quit spit out, a name I can't quite remember. I giggle in the awkward silence, pretending to know, praying for the bell to save me. I sit in the library anticipating, hearing the phantom uneven thrum of overburdened teenage hearts, smelling the dank animal stink of finals week stress, the air thick and electric with panic. No one around me knows it but we'll all be dead soon.

I shut my teeth against the truth and take another pill.

"It'll all be over soon," I tell myself as I stumble toward my car, realizing that, no matter what, I'm right. The sun climbs higher in the sky, highlighting the sin of my existence, issuing everything but warmth. It mocks me. I flip it the bird. A young man with a terrible beard mistakes my gesture. He barely summons the energy to say something that sounds like "whatever" before changing course, now heading in the opposite direction. Had he actually seen me? Was that just my ego? I don't care. I cannot care.

I stuff my greedy frozen fingers into my pockets. I am out of pills. No matter.

I am home. I am sleeping. I am on vacation.

Soon.



Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Class Action

So this happened...

Drew: *sits down with a loud grunt*
CuriousStudent: What happened to you?
Drew: Nothing. I'm just old.
CS: How old is old?
Drew: How old do you think?
CS: I don't know... 25?
Drew: *stares*
CS: 26? 
Drew: Keep going.
CS: 27? 28?... 29?
Drew: *stares*
CS: 30?!
Drew: *leans forward*, *in Batman voice* Keep going.
CS: I don't think I like this game.
Drew: Who does? We all die at the end.
CS: ...what's your major?
Drew: *in Batman voice* Pain and Suffering
CS: Ah. Um. Ok?
Drew: *in Batman voice* ...with a minor in ...Justice!
CS: Yup. I get it. You can stop now.




Monday, November 11, 2013

Stretch

A few weeks ago, I stopped counting the days. It seemed gratuitous. The count was and is meaningless to me. It's a substantively void thing pretending to represent something meaningful;

Day 1: A New Beginning
Day 18: Getting comfortable
Day 34: A Seasoned Veteran
Day 52: ZOMG 'XAMZ!
Day 71: Teh BurnOuts!

I've been feeling stuck out of time this semester, as if a series of things are happening all around me divorced from sequential order. The general linear feel of life and life events has been submerged beneath a thrumming torrent of concurrent everything. It all begs my attention simultaneously and it's all important. I reach out and grab what I can; repairing, completing, apologizing, thinking, reading, eating, drinking, re-reading, writing, fretting, testing, hoping, contacting, connecting, reconnecting, forgetting, at times in complete control, at times at the mercy of the maelstrom.

Again and again I'm finding that things aren't as unorganized or tumultuous as they appear to be. There's a "real" version of things that I'm able to view when I occasion to break the surface of this... stuff... and have a good look around. Everything is normal. And I'm ok.

That exam I thought I failed was a B. That paper? A-. I don't see the change because I'm living it. I don't feel it because it's gradual. I've grown so accustomed to the feeling of progress that I can't recognize it any more. The constant ache of moving to and fro is numbing, taxing, invalidating. I have no frame of reference.

I crave relative stillness to reflect upon. I crave boredom. I crave silence to balance all this violence.

Less than a month remains of this semester, including a week of vacation. It feel like I started yesterday. It feels like I'll begin tomorrow. It feels like I've always been doing this. Rest is an illusion. A fantasy. Stillness is my imagined heaven, existing only in my mind, desire making it both tantalizingly real and infinitely intangible.

I am burning out and it's ok. I have prepared for this. I am not breaking, I am bending. I welcome the wind. I can smell the wet-mud stink of tomorrow's improbable Spring. I can feel the earth warming sun insisting against my skin, fat cloud animals luxuriating above and about me. I am dreaming. I am wanting.

I need a vacation.

I have a little over 300 pages of reading and 25 pages of writing before I can breathe a finishing sigh. Until then, I am because I must. Or something. I'm almost done.



* * * * *

As a reminder, I'm working to raise money to study in South Africa this upcoming Spring. I've attached a donation button to the top right of this page just under the "About Me" section. If you're so inclined, click the donate button and make a donation in the amount of your choosing via PayPal.

Many many thanks to those of you who've already offered monetary support. It is both desperately needed and greatly appreciated.