April 2006
A month ago, nothing seemed to be achievable. Everything I thought about had a loose end, or rather, an end that seemed far-fetched. I worried where I would live, what I would put there, where I would work, what I would wear there, how I would get there, how I would pay to get there, how I would pay for everything else, who I would spend time with, if it’d be worth it to spend time with them, and so on. My typical, everyday thoughts, multiplied by 1000.
And magically, things just started working out on their own. I got a job from a publishing company that sought me out first. I got a car paid-in-full, and an apartment to move into just next week. I got a salary that was more than I expected, that feels like a lot for an entry-level employee, that feels like a lot to me, a person who doesn’t really spend money. Everything I’d been worrying about just became fixed, and now I don’t have much to worry about, but I do, anyway. I worry what would’ve happened if I didn’t worry, and what I should do now with all my free time I’m wasting, and that I have writer’s block, and if it’s a bad thing that I skip
class as often as I go to it because I’m not only unchallenged and bored and fast-approaching graduation, but I’m also pretty much set. It never ends.
So many people are stressed out now that the year is over, and I’m not stressed at all—no more than usual, at least. I guess I spent my entire college career being worried. Did paranoia pay off? I don’t want that question answered. In any case, while everyone else at school is cramming, writing, and staying up to the wee hours of the morning penning papers, I’m not doing too much academically. I ate a lot of pizza yesterday. I spent the weekend playing Mall Madness and hunting down the piece of cinematic trash known as Showgirls. I sent a home-made construction paper card with a happy butterfly on the front to a serial killer. I sleep in. I was working on my last zine of my college career the other day; I cut up Archie comics and Playmobil catalogs and basically whatever else that was in the vicinity. Yesterday I decided to invent Fun Birth, which is when I shall have my clitoral region stimulated while in the process of having a baby. The days blend together anymore. I’m trying to decide if this is what I earned after four years; I’m trying to decide if it is good to just breathe for once, and not do much else.
By Stef
And magically, things just started working out on their own. I got a job from a publishing company that sought me out first. I got a car paid-in-full, and an apartment to move into just next week. I got a salary that was more than I expected, that feels like a lot for an entry-level employee, that feels like a lot to me, a person who doesn’t really spend money. Everything I’d been worrying about just became fixed, and now I don’t have much to worry about, but I do, anyway. I worry what would’ve happened if I didn’t worry, and what I should do now with all my free time I’m wasting, and that I have writer’s block, and if it’s a bad thing that I skip
class as often as I go to it because I’m not only unchallenged and bored and fast-approaching graduation, but I’m also pretty much set. It never ends.
So many people are stressed out now that the year is over, and I’m not stressed at all—no more than usual, at least. I guess I spent my entire college career being worried. Did paranoia pay off? I don’t want that question answered. In any case, while everyone else at school is cramming, writing, and staying up to the wee hours of the morning penning papers, I’m not doing too much academically. I ate a lot of pizza yesterday. I spent the weekend playing Mall Madness and hunting down the piece of cinematic trash known as Showgirls. I sent a home-made construction paper card with a happy butterfly on the front to a serial killer. I sleep in. I was working on my last zine of my college career the other day; I cut up Archie comics and Playmobil catalogs and basically whatever else that was in the vicinity. Yesterday I decided to invent Fun Birth, which is when I shall have my clitoral region stimulated while in the process of having a baby. The days blend together anymore. I’m trying to decide if this is what I earned after four years; I’m trying to decide if it is good to just breathe for once, and not do much else.
By Stef
posted by Joey at 9:42 AM
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