Sun May 17 01:40:29 CDT 1998
This semester is my Viet Nam
I thought as I was walking along in the
fine weather of last week. I'm back in Chicago, just settling in to Grandpa's
old bed in the third floor apartment. A bit of insomnia after having gotten
the modem up and running, stumpy having been off the network for a day.
The move was grand - I filled the van with all sorts of stuff. One rather large box I estimated at over 100 pounds, holding two computers, a monitor, and various miscellaney. While I've grand plans for all sorts of things over the summer and may even start work as early as Monday, I was, and even now, albeit a lot less, am still bummed about the end of the semester.
Responding to those finals-week inquiries Are you done?
I said I
was done two months ago, at least in spirit.
Or, more often I'd quip
I've finished failing my last final!
I feel bad, having sent a note
off to Michael Pemberton - no, I'm just not going to do the final project, my
interests lie elsewhere ... or in B&TW 275 where I never bothered to go see
Dr. Douglass the last month and a half .... didn't even bother to turn in
completed asignments.
It sucks, but talking with Krissy, I suggested out loud that I tend to have a history of failing at things I don't really believe in near the end ... the Army, for example, and other things I can not remember at this hour ... well, I don't believe in school so much, even at work I was never doing anything really productive, and class ... well, last semester, just reading over this journal, which I handed in for a class, I felt I was a self-absorbed ass ... I wanna chill in Chicago awhile, do challenging work for EnterAct, ride the El, meeting a variety of folks you meet less often in a sheltered campus community.
But still, the evacuation, the image in my head of my will and interests and efforts jumping into a hastily-gathered convoy of helicopters, leaving loose ends behind, those unfinished assignments, and those I didn't hand in - the ones I left behind. The mail folder that is my inbox with over three hundred messages in it ... sure, it's not a helicopter taking off of the US Embassy, it's just a Ford E150 with a sticky throttle, and yes, I'm not leaving behind men who never wanted to be there in the first place to suffer at the will of the enemy, I'm just fucking my grades over ... but for a person, that's comparable in spirit to a country doing those things, even if out of scale even at the personal level.
One is rambling. 'tis bedtime, perhaps insomnia has been weakened now.
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