Okay, I am well aware that there has been a serious shortage of blog posts in the last few months. You've noticed. I've noticed. My short answer is this: College is hard, life is stupid, and I fucked up a little. Now, this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down, and I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, I'll tell you how I gained one more gypsy summer. (You were already singing that weren't you. Mmhmm.)
There are three intersecting pathways to this story. One is a pathway to higher education that has literally left me crumpled on the floor in tears among an array of lecture notes and flash cards watching my stats grade, and subsequently, my GPA plummet. Another is a dude that I couldn't get out of my head or in my bed, and my thoughts drove me crazy wild and dixie fried. Like, Beatnik poetry and a zonk on the head. Do ya dig it, Daddy-O? (Fuck, yeah, for a minute I became that girl--writing bad, late-night poetry with a whiskey buzz--but it's a cool feeling, you know.) So while I was strung out on this long distance, digital, what-the-fuck-am-I-doing love, statistical equations, and love letters written by Zelda Fitzgerald, I worked three jobs and decided to pick up a fourth on top of carrying a full college course load. You can see this coming,? I was slated for Crashville, cats and kittens.
A girl with anxiety can only juggle those flaming pins for so long before she begins to drop a few; I'm here to tell you. In short the stress was too much, and I lit a few bridges on fire (not all by myself, but my hands smell like sulfur too). They aren't burned down, but they are certainly in need of repair. In a panicked moment of boiling emotion, I ended up the epitome of some Silent Bob soliloquy or Holden McNeil diatribe, complete with a Banky Edwards, "your mother's a Tracer!!"style outburst**, when it came to the guy. I dropped a couple of jobs, gained some hours, lost some hours, lost some money, lost my mind, and got my feelings seriously hurt in the process. It's all fun in games until someone cries until they lose their breath. I hurt some feelings too. Maybe someday we can talk about it. Beer's always cold. Bowl's always packed. You know how to find me. School? Well, that is a whole other thing. I have a fucked up GPA and a stack of scholarship essays to write, before I can go back. (I should probably be writing them now, but my audience has awaited much too long.)
What I learned on a road trip across the country that led to my failing stats and taking a much needed time out was this: I have to do me. I can't keep trying to be things I'm
not. For all the Alyssa's in this story: I'm sorry, wherever you are.**
As for Mr. Right-now, I don't know if he's my used-to-be or my
maybe-someday or my never-going-to-happen, but I'd like a chance to find
out. However it works out, I'll think of him late at night, or early
in the morning; maybe only when I see a brightly colored drink in a high
ball glass (he's one of those homegrown recipe amateur mixologist
types; go figure, and get me a drink) or when I hear a Journey song. I
mean, come on, aren't we all just small town girls living in a lonely world taking that Midnight train to anywhere? (Gotcha again, didn't I?) I'm hoping this thing will figure itself out. At least we are speaking again and my social media/text message shunning is over. Regarding school and a job: I don't know where the fuck I am going to get book store money (which is not going to stop me from taking that pottery class I have my eye on that has no validity what-so-ever to my degree) or my next paycheck. Honestly, I don't know where my next pack of cigarettes is coming from, but that isn't going to stop me from chain smoking while I got them either. There is one thing. I know this: this might be my last summer of uncertainty; my last summer of me. At 31 (yeah, that happened a couple of weeks ago)*, I have to value that and appreciate that not everybody gets to play pirates with the Lost Boys for as long as I have. I might not be able to fall off the grid and regroup whenever I need to in the not so distant future. I can't take that for granted. Princess Mary Elephant, Matron Saint of All Things Really Fucking Cool, would be unlike the Dude. She would not abide wasting this opportunity. I have to think I was given this time out for a reason. The way I see it, I am not out a job, not alone, and a GPA is just a fucking number. I am surrounded by people that love me and understand that I need to regroup. So until I get my shit together; first BatCave on the right and straight on 'til morning.
And hopefully to you, dear patient reader, more blog posts to you.
Until then,
*Not impressed 31, you need to up your game!
**Seriously, if you don't get that reference buy yourself a fucking 90's cinematic movie education, you cube!!
***If you don't know this one...I just can't with you right now.
Okay, I am well aware that there has been a serious shortage of blog posts in the last few months. You've noticed. I've noticed. My short answer is this: College is hard, life is stupid, and I fucked up a little. Now, this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down, and I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, I'll tell you how I gained one more gypsy summer. (You were already singing that weren't you. Mmhmm.)
future. I can't take that for granted. Princess Mary Elephant, Matron Saint of All Things Really Fucking Cool, would be unlike the Dude. She would not abide wasting this opportunity. I have to think I was given this time out for a reason. The way I see it, I am not out a job, not alone, and a GPA is just a fucking number. I am surrounded by people that love me and understand that I need to regroup. So until I get my shit together; first BatCave on the right and straight on 'til morning.
No comments:
Post a Comment