Jun 30, 2005

Hamlet wasn't procrastinating, he was planning a more thorough revenge.

I on the other hand, am a procrastinating procrastinator. Yes I know I've said that before. I'm not talking about your garden variety, "I'll do it tomorrow". I'm talking about an epic session in which I re-organized my sock drawer and alphabetized my skirts. I mean, I alphabetized my socks and re-organized my skirt drawer.I also catalogued my pants by size and style. I bet that will come in handy some day. Imagine the time I'll save down the road if and when I can fit into my "skinny jeans" again.

I have "nobody knows the trouble I've seen/nobody knows but Jeesus" going through my head. I don't know how it got there. It really isn't my style of anthem.

I also don't know how a blog I began as a medium through which I could vent the effluvia generated by my neurotic and angst addled mind, has devolved into something even I find boring.

The truth is, I think for the past couple of months I've been scared shitless. For five years I've had this one goal: complete my BA in History. On August 4th I will write two exams and that will be that. Mission accomplished. Very exciting, but then the mind starts to ask, "then what?" The other day my mom sent me an email asking me to help her with something on August 11th. It's something I would probably enjoy. In fact I know I would because it involves working with inner-city kids on a creative project. But when I read the email, I got really angry. I wanted to reply, "I don't know, I might be busy then" or, "I might be out of town" or, "how the fuck do I know if I'll be available on the 11th of fucking August?"

Dude, the 11th of August is less than a month and a half away. Between now and then I have a load of little projects I have to complete, all of which feel grossly insignificant in light of the monumental task ahead of ... Whatever happens after graduation.

I took a deep breath, closed my email program and didn't reply to my mom's email. I knew I was psychologically compromised, and my personal philosophy is that it is better not to pick a fight when avoidance is such a simple and effective alternative.

So, I've been giving this some thought. I knew I was anxious about graduation, but I was surprised I was having such a strong gut reaction. Suddenly, looking ahead toward August felt like looking out at the ocean, believing the world to be flat, but choosing to sail out toward the horizon anyway. Then, on the eve of this monumental voyage from which you suspect you will never return, your mother/spouse/sibling calls and says, "honey, when you get to America, can you pick up a loaf of bread? Thanks."

Yes I know people graduate from University all the time. Yes I know I should get over myself. Yes I also know "everything will work out." I have a little neural network in my conscious brain that stores all these platitudes and delivers them in packets to my subconscious when it starts to freak the fuck out. There's a intense argument going on between my conscious mind saying, "relax, everything will be fine" and my unconscious mind screaming, "ARE YOU INSANE? THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT IS COMING TO AN END! HOW CAN YOU JUST STAND THERE AND SAY EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE?"

Through this cacophony tones one small voice as faint as distant windchines, I can barely make it out but it is saying, "excuse me ... ahem, pardon me, excuse me but couldn't we get our homework done and maybe discuss the end of the world later?"

To which the two engaged in a violent war of words reply, "shut up, what do you know?"

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