I Submitted This to my E-Class; It Was An Assignment

I had to write about if I want to go to graduate school or not. I chose not. I probably will go. I had to explain about people in my 'career field' who did not attend grad school. Then I had to make a time-line for myself. There were other questions before that but it's not relevant.


Here we go.

I do not want to attend graduate school immediately following graduation because if I do that, I know that after I graduate from there, I will have a job. And that job will lead to another job. I might meet a girl somewhere in between and we might become serious. From there we might live together and I will have to own a house or apartment. And then I will have responsibilities that I cannot walk away from. I will essentially have a family, even if I don't have kids. Maybe I won't meet a girl and I don't have to worry about this. I don't know. I do know that if I go to graduate school and graduate, I will have a long line of jobs before me and that doesn't appeal to me. I don't want to work to retire at 55 or 60. I don't want to live my life and experience all the things that I want to experience in two week vacations here and there. I want to live and feel it, know that I'm alive. I want to do it while I'm young. I want to reap the full benefits of my youth. I can't go to graduate school and sacrifice that.

I don't know someone who hasn't gone to graduate school and had a career that I want aside from various musicians and artists, but they aren't exactly congruent to my situation, I don't think. I don't know what to say about that. Maybe I won't go to graduate school if I never get started doing it immediately. Maybe that will negatively impact my future. I don't know. Lou Reed dropped out of undergrad and look at him, he's famous. He lead one of the single most influential bands in the history of music, the Velvet Underground. He is married to an equally famous artist, Laurie Anderson. He has millions of dollars and the undying adoration of people across the globe. Maybe my travel experiences will imbue me with a true artist's spirit and I won't feel the need to go to law school. Maybe I can find a small job to keep me fed and sheltered while I write or form a band. And then maybe I could publish my writings and achieve a modicum of fame within a 'scene'. Maybe my band will release a record which will be favourably received by Pitchfork Media and the Wire and other music critics. I'd prefer to be well received by the Wire but Pitchfork's endorsement would make us famous. I might need the fame at that point in my life because if that doesn't work, I'd be stuck working a dead end job. But maybe it'd be nice to be a florist in a small city. That would be very fulfilling. Maybe I want to be a full-time florist.

After I graduate, I'm going to get a job; it doesn't matter where. I will save a few thousand dollars; that would be ideal. This should take maybe half a year. If I graduate in June, go home and start working in August (home would be to my mother's house, wherever she lives at that point in time. This makes everything cheap and easy), I will have the money by spring time. I could probably work a little bit more to have extra money. In August, of that year, after one year of working, I will travel to Europe. I will go to England and Ireland and enjoy myself. I will go to Rome and Belgium and enjoy myself. I will go to France, Paris, and enjoy myself. I will be a happy person living in these cities and countries as a part time tourist/part time citizen. I will maybe work in the cities if I like it enough. Maybe I will stay longer than a few weeks in the cities. Maybe I will live there for a year. At the end, if there is an end, I will go to Iceland. I figure on this being the end of a year of traveling. I will enjoy Iceland. I will maybe work in Iceland. Maybe I will never leave Iceland. This would be nice to never leave Iceland. I hear it's very nice there. It'd be nice to live somewhere very nice like Iceland. I could make it there, in the land of snow and volcanoes, in Iceland. I could blend in, be a barista or a waiter, a record store clerk or a florist; it'd be nice to be a florist. Maybe I'd just spend some time there and not work there. Maybe it will be a genuine vacation. If that's what happens, I'll stay until my money runs out. I will frequent the bars and music venues. I will shop in thrift stores and eat in little places run by little Icelandic people because I don't belive that McDonalds' exists in Iceland. If it does, that will make me sad. But when my money runs out, I will come home and I will sleep for a little bit. Maybe a long bit. I don't know. If I come home, it will be in November. I'd have traveled for a little over a year. I'd look different; I'd be different; people will recognize me but remark "There's something different about you now" in a very kind way. I will laugh. This probably won't happen, the people remarking that. Most of my friends will be in grad school. Maybe I will visit them if enough are in the same area. I will definitely visit a couple. They will definitely make a remark like that to me. I will end my vacation and apply for grad school. I don't know when applications are due for law school, but I will probably attend the fall semester in the following year. I will work until then. And hopefully I'll be happy in law school. The end.

before i go to sleep, i think

I want to be innocent and comfortable again.

Going to school scares me.
Going downtown scares me.
Going to work scares me.
Cashing my check scares me.
Coming home and doing my laundry scares me.
Having a girlfriend scares me.
Having sex scares me.
Breaking up with a girlfriend scares me.
Getting drunk scares me.
Doing drugs scares me.

And in the moment, everything is okay. But if I lay down and detach my thoughts from my body, I find myself completely and utterly terrified. Not overwhelmed. Terrified. I want to be safe and snug. All of this will pass in a couple years when it becomes routine, maybe. And then I'll be gripped by the fear of career and retirement and 401(k)s and pension plan. But right now. Right now.

Right now, I wonder what Kierkegaard would say, or Dostoevsky, or Camus. I wonder what Bukowski, what Faulkner, what Steinbeck, with their infinite wisdom and finesse, what they would tell me.

Chatterton is dead and never had to face these problems. He would tell me nothing.

777

I am excited to be alive.

I am also scared.

But in the end,
the kids will still go to school
The adults will still work
Wal-Mart will still be open
And it will be business as usual
for the most part.

My job requires me to talk to people who do not want to talk to me

I make phone calls soliciting votes for a candidate running for senate. I like my job and I like my coworkers. I think my coworkers like me and if my job was animate, I feel as if it would like me too, maybe.

The people I call on the phones don't like me. Truth be told, I don't like most of them either.

Sometimes, I like to play games with them. I'll pretend my name is Woodrow or Sterling or Lou or Jean-Paul or Jean-Marc-Robert or a variety of made up names. This is fun because I get to be someone I'm not. I obviously lack comfort in my own skin.

When I'm calling people in the rural areas, I make my name Buck or Guy.

This endears me to them. I win their votes this way. Lying endears you to people, I have learned.

But some people are rude and sometimes I'm rude back.

I ask a man if he has a second to discuss the issues:

Him: No
Me: Really? One minute?
Him: No.
Me: Are you sure?
Him: Yes.
Me: Are you going to hang up?
Him: Yes.
Me: Wait.
Him: Why?
Me: You've just won a new car.
Him: What?
Me: Do you want to pick it up or have it delivered?
Him: Is this a joke to you?
Me: You hurt my feelings.
Him: How?
Me: You wouldn't talk to me.
Him: Sorry.
Me: It's okay. Do you have a minute?
Him: No. Good-bye.
Me: YOU TALKED MORE THAN A MINUTE I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT I KNOW YOUR ADDRESS.
Him: Bye.

Sometimes I feel bad after someone hangs up me. It really hurts yr self-esteem. Sometimes after I've been hung up on, I get angry and yell at the phone, telling it to die in a pit of AIDS, and then I remember that the phone can't get AIDS and that the senior citizen I had called probably will die soon and I took up some of their last moments. But this makes me feel good because when they die, I may be on their minds as that last fucker who called them.

It's not the sausage house

I went to eat breakfast at the Waffle House this morning because last night I was hungry and told myself I would go to eat breakfast at waffle house. I don't think there's a clean waffle house anywhere but that's okay; the grease on the walls and the dirty cups are part of the experience, I think.

There were maybe five people at the waffle house and I made six. Next to me at the front bar was a basketball player from my school and his girlfriend. He seemed drunk. I talked to him because he's my favourite basketball player at school. I don't know his name but I call him Smiles. Smiles was very drunk.

The two waitresses were talking about their vacations, how one went to Idaho and the other went to New York. This sent Smiles on a streak.

"New York? I'm from mother fucking NEW YORK!"

The waitresses didn't say anything and kept talking. Smiles wouldn't stand for this.

"Now where the fuck did you go in New York? Man, I'm from mother fucking New York CITY!"

I looked at his girlfriend and took a sip of my coffee. She shrugged at said it was true, that he was from the Bronx.

"MOTHER FUCKING NEW YORK CITY UP IN HERE"

He stopped after this and ate his waffle and sausage. His girlfriend picked at her food. He asked her what's wrong. She said the sausage doesn't taste good. He said this is the mother fucking waffle house not sausage house, bitch. And then I felt good. Because he was right. This was the mother fucking waffle house. And I was happy.