the place to be.

we're clearly running out of ideas.

yesterday, to commemorate the sixth anniversary of an inside job, my cousins, my mom and i went to ikea. i really, really dislike that place. i had no idea why i agreed to go, except maybe because i never go anywhere with my mom, and she seemed to be having a good time there. which is strange because she tends to agree with my anti-capitalistic, anti-corporate rants. but sometimes in life, we just need to quiet that side and just remember how to enjoy the plastic, commercial world.

and it's not like my mom went crazy. she bought some scissors (i bet she just liked their colors because i thought about buying them at first glance, too), some measuring cups (which we do actually need here at home), a wok, and some lining for cupboards and drawers. rich bought some poster frames, a lamp, and some other miscellaneous items. then, in the as-is section, he spotted a t.v. stand for his monster of an hdtv. he decided he needed it, but it wouldn't fit in my mom's crv. so we drove home, then drove back with his dad's truck. i had a headache from hunger, as i refused to eat in ikea's restaurant. the food reminded me of junk they serve on an airline, but, having tasted a few of my mom's potatoes, it really wasn't all that bad.

afterwards, we rearranged rich's living room yet again with byron's help, and then the night turned into an xbox360 time-waster.

i'm thinking about going to graduate school for social work, but then i think, am i just doing this because i can't think of anything else? obviously, graduate school is a much better choice than waking up around noon and doing nothing all day, but i really want to think things out before i get myself into any more debt. and i also think, once i have my master's, then what? i'll still be at this point again: wondering what to do, where to work, where to live.

i need to take my time with this shit. nothing wrong with that. or so everyone else says.

i had another dream about eighth grade again. i think i've been emotionally and physically scarred forever by saint ignatius. it's the only recurring dream i ever have. one where i'm all grown up, but i'm still in mrs. clark's class, and i have no idea why. in the dream, jean bessette, writing center co-worker, and alicia katnik, 8th grade classmate were there. i asked alicia how old she was. she told me 28. i told her i was 24, so what the hell are we still doing here? she didn't really have an answer. i told mrs. clark i wasn't in the right class, but she was unresponsive. she wore these dark blue eyeglasses and seemed entranced by something else. i wanted more than anything to get out of there.

my dreams have been pretty terrible lately. i guess that's what happens when you're unhappy. i've had one where i'm eating in a cafeteria, and someone leaves a backpack next to me. as soon as this person leaves, a police office comes in and tells everyone it's a bomb. but instead of evacuating the building, he decides to detonate it in front of us, and tells none of us to move. it starts fuming, and people scream. another dream is where my mom just disappears. i think she gets sucked into a computer. my dad cleans through walls to try and find her.

i still have a lot of frustration i have to work through. i don't really talk to my friends anymore. i only keep in touch with family because family is obligated to be my friend. i think i don't keep in touch with high school friends because i don't really like sitting around and saying, "remember that time..." because none of my memories before college were any good. everything before college was a terrible mess and i almost wish i could have that huge section of my life deleted from my memory. even though that defeats the purpose of the lesson in eternal sunshine of a spotless mind, i would nevertheless have it done.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

western civilization has left us with the remains of what used to be a life worth living. it's hard to find meaning in a society that's rotten to the core. living in the belly of the beast, how can we not be infected with the sickness of despair? it's just a natural reaction, i suppose. i don't know about you, but i can't fuckin' help it. until i can garner enough guts to fight back(and i don't mean a non-violent, symbolic protest where we all march in state-sanctioned areas), i suppose i will continue to suffer and rot at my meaningless job.

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Maggie said...

you know, i've thought of getting an MSW as well. but somehow it's just a default plan. my backup because i don't know what else the hell i want.

maybe all social workers just couldn't come up with any better, scrounging for something meaningful.