Thursday, May 10, 2007
Here I am at home, a college graduate, graduate student of the University of Kansas, adjunct professor of two comp classes (which should end up fairly amusing, as I've never taken
comp before), and a sweatily relieved recipient of one rather large assistantship. I'm surrounded by the cheerful tumult of my stuff, being encouraged by my mother to spare her the anxiety that apparently results from knowing I have so many unorganized things lying about on the floor to get rid of my things to fund a wedding trip to Florida in June. I'm crestfallen that my attempts to pare my possessions down--particularly my clothes--has come to no avail, and am starting to be fed up with this constant pressure to get rid of things. I'm about to move into an apartment, eh? Leave me be. This is simply two rooms' worth of stuff trying to live in one room.
I am an enthusiastic collector of things, and if I see something pretty that I particularly enjoy to own then I simply have to have it. The subjects of my collecting avarice have both their positive and negative sides--I like to collect books that are interesting to read, clothes, shoes, and music. On the upside, they are A. generally cheap, since I'm not out for fine craftmanship persay, B. easy to find, since thrift stores, yardsales, and oh yeah, music piracy keeps me in constant supply, and C. it's never ending which feeds the pleasure of collecting. As things fade out of style or interest, they are constantly replaced. On the other hand, D. the easy availability makes for attaining all this shit too easy, E. it never allows me the satisfaction of a collection complete, and F. moving is going to be a bitch.
Ah, well. I have limited room, veritably no money, and I have just 5 gigs left on my music drive. Unless I plan on being crushed by a tidal wave of debt and books that I need to catch up on, it will drift itself to an end.
More importantly, I have graduated from college, to mixed emotions. The numerous (and usually unwarranted) mental breakdowns from the re-goddamned-diculous schedule I took this year payed of and I got all As, including one I'm fairly certain I didn't deserve in American Modernism. I wish I had seen my friends more in the last week, but I had so much to do with studying, writing, preparing my thesis, cleaning and packing the aforementioned junk...I was overwhelmed when I saw a few at graduation, though. I so glad they exist <3 I need to make my way back down to Conway when I have the time.
I am waiting for the giddiness in Nick coming back to kick in. I think I'm still psychologically exhausted from school, because when he comes over I just want to clean or sleep. Even the thought of enthusiastic makeout sessions makes me exhausted (although, admittedly, I can usually muster energy for that
up). The towering dread of planning a wedding is making me preoccupied now, so I still can't just relax. And I'm caught in the middle of Nick and Mom wanting me to spend lots and tons of time with each of them and neither, I think, being entirely satisfied.
But oh! I am reading the new Michael Chabon book! And all the weariness and stress I could feel is being washed away by his anachrostic Yids and good humor. I only bought his hardcover because he was vaguely attractive and terribly nice to me when I met him and a speech & signing, but the story is absorbing and the characterizations are as quirky as I like 'em to be.
I should try to sleep. Good night, sweet ladies...
Posted by stochastic ::
10:51 PM ::
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