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I'm hating everyone and everything tonight. I hate my server/internet
connection/browser which is ridiculously slow and has been getting
ridiculously stuck more and more often. I hate the fact that I never
have enough money and people have to call and harass me for it,
and I don't know how to tell them that I would be happy to give
them all the money they want if I had it in the first place. I hate that
my last two journal entries have sucked so badly. I hate that
four of my friends in Kansas City were so selfish and unsupportive
that they didn't go to the concert my accordion-master friend gave
yesterday
in preparation for her world competition in Germany in two weeks.
I hate
getting out of bed when it's so early and dark and cold to walk. I hate
school. I hate looking for a job that I can't describe because I
don't know what it is I want to do exactly. I hate the fact that
I have to start another goddamned diet. I hate the fact that I'm too
chicken to go to my high school reunion this weekend.
I guess it's probably a good thing that I have therapy tomorrow, huh? .... wait a minute... what was that again? I don't know why I haven't told you before; I guess I just wanted to get comfortable with the idea first. I've been going since August, usually every other week but sometimes two weeks in a row, to a licensed social worker, who sits and chats with me (for a full hour, believe it or not) about all my woes. I started getting the idea after a disastrous exam period last spring. I don't mean disastrous as in grades... I'm doing okay there, gradually improving each semester... but the stress level I endure is catastrophic, mostly because I screw around and have a hard time focusing on my work. (I know that's a big surprise to you all.) I started thinking about the bar exam, and so much of that preparation is self-regulated, and if I studied for that the way I study for semester exams, I knew I would never pass. So that was the impetus, but obviously, there are other issues I talk about as well, such as my irresponsibility with money and time and possessions, and my complete inability to form a romantic relationship. I'm starting to get the feeling that it's all tied together somehow, but I'm not there yet. So anyway, there you go. I'll talk about it in here when I feel like it, but I won't if I don't, so I'm going to ask you to exercise restraint in writing to me about it. Not that you can never mention it, but I'll flame anyone who picks bits and pieces from things I write here and then writes me to say "You really should talk to your therapist about this." I just widened the curtains, kids, but I didn't open the door. Ah, forgive me. I said before I hate everyone today. You know that doesn't include you. What this country needs is a new obssession. We need a good reason to come home every day and turn on CNN to get all the latest information. We need some of whatever the noun form of salacious is. We're just about due. These things happen in spurts, but usually we don't have to wait too long. Just take a look at the last five years. Mid-1994 to late '95, it was all O.J., all the time. Then we had a breather of about a year, with Olympics and elections and Bob Dole falling off platforms, and a mysterious murder of a six-year-old beauty queen in Boulder right at the end. 1997 was fairly boring until that fateful August night when a certain princess died. Then, of course, there was the fateful January day in 1998 when we first heard the name of a certain White House intern, which by the time the year was over made us want to run as far away from our televisions as possible. What's happened in 1999? Big horrible things, like school shootings and work shootings and the non-scandalous death of America's beloved golden child with the famous monogram. Nothing we can really hang our hats on, though. Nothing we're all secretly interested in but act nonchalant about to avoid acknowledging that we too have jumped on the bandwagon. Nothing that feeds our voyeuristic tendencies without making us feel like there's no hope for our future. We need a good scandal. But don't go blaming me if you wake up tomorrow morning and Katie and Matt tell you that someone stole the Mona Lisa, or no one's seen Elizabeth Dole in three weeks, or Pat Buchanan came out of the closet. I'm just saying. |
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