on the verge of something
January 19. 2000
So my life is starting to fall into the routine that I'm never sure if I should fight or try to relax and be comfortable with. I feel like I'm on the verge of something, the verge of being happy, the verge of acceptance, fuck, I don't know what.
I had the pleasure of frying my brain tonight on "the Second Treatise of Government" by John Locke. The guy is incredibly long winded, and not to mention a pompous ass, so much so that it took me an hour and half to read seven pages. And still only have the most basic understanding.
Yesterday I also had my first 2d design class, which looks like it will be significantly more merciful than Patricia's class from hell last semester. The prof, Rebecca, seems to have an affection for keeping journals of all sort, which of course had me tickled pink. I have an assignment from her for Monday that I neither understand nor have any clue how to execute.
Today was my easy day, with only one class, art history, at 2:10. I was rather intrigued by the prof, he had an accent that I spent most of the class trying to identify. I think it was some kind of Boston accent meets Russian accent. He pronounces art "ought", which was amusing.
Meanwhile, I still have my dorm room all to myself. My roommate, whose name I was told on Sunday was Erin, still hasn't shown up, and with each passing day the chances of her appearing are growing less and less. And with each passing day, more and more of my stuff is migrating to what was supposed to be her space. I thoroughly enjoy having the room to myself, however. It gives me an excuse to be even more of a social hermit than I was last semester. I've concluded this is so because for the simple reason that I really don't like anyone on my floor now. I just feel so out of place with them, and I am often made to feel like an idiot by some of them, and I decided I'm not going to waste my time on that shit anymore. I have friends elsewhere in the dorm that I can always hang out with.
I've still been giving thought to the transferring idea, of course, and after a rather tense and miserable conversation with my mother over the phone earlier tonight, I've concluded the chances of me transferring are narrowing from slim to none. Most of the reasons are financial. No, all the reasons are financial. Our family simply can't handle more than what we're paying for me to go to Tyler, which, from average collegiate standards, is pretty damn cheap. And I really don't want to take out loans, if I can help it, and I know that's what would have to happen if I do indeed transfer to another school. I was hoping to save the taking out of loans for grad school. Dammit, I hate making decisions. Especially when they're not the ones you want.
I have to take a moment and plug Scotch's journal, because I have been reading it for a couple months now, and not only is he a fantastic, eloquent writer, but he's funny as hell. Check it out.
music: Fiona Apple, Tidal
food: cranberry juice
read: John Locke can suck my cock
sight: Dad's sculpture broken
i wander the halls along the walls and under my breath
i say to myself i need fuel to take flight
-Sullen Girl, Fiona Apple
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