Back to Screwed

Sitting in the kitchen.  Thinking over the past two weeks.  My second week of college and my fourth attempt at getting a degree.  I began to reflect on all the crap I have been through over these two weeks.  Not in a bitchy sort of way, but in a reflective Buddha kind of way.  I realized the hardest part about going to school is not the school work itself.  No, the school work seems to be the easiest part (thus far).  What seems to be the most difficult part is the constant organization one needs to attain, the constant self-motivation, the constant hustle mentality, you have to be awake to the apathy of others around you and be aware enough to “not” step into it.  You have to be able to follow up on financial aid forms, deadlines, scholarships, and anything else out there that could make school more affordable.  You have to be able to juggle your personal life, taking the dog for a walk, getting exercise, and getting the right amount of nutrition.  Don’t forget to kiss the wifey and give her your undivided attention or she won’t give you your “special medicine.”  You have to make sure that you get to work on time and still have time for homework, get to school on time and stay awake through a boring ass lecture…

These factors seem more difficult to keep up with then the actual school work itself.  I wouldn’t say I feel overwhelmed so much as I feel my eyes are open to what I could have handled years ago had I not had such a defeatist attitude.  At the thought of this I feel like crying, however I don’t have it written down in my daily planner.

February is the new January cause I procrastinate

I was staring at the over packed trunk of my car for about ten minutes; scratching my ass with a lost expression on my face. My jagged brain considered options of how to re-organize my car with all the crap I planned to take with me. Clothes, books, guitar, shoes, towels; what could be stuffed into where, to economize the sparse room in my vehicle? My mom walked outside and asked if I wanted help. I declined. I played Tetris as a child. I could figure this out. Ten more minutes went by without a single bit of progress. I unloaded some of my gear, deciding to cut back on what I would bring. Unhappy with the decision I began to unpack inside the house. The sound of my friend Tanya’s voice crept through the backdoor of my brain, “no way you’re going to fit all that junk in your itty bitty car. Just take three pairs of underwear and two sets of socks!”
My mother walked over and this time I welcomed her assistance because by this point it was 10 P.M. and the thought of getting up by 7 A.M. to drive 4 hours was making me anxious. We worked like a couple of Asian kids in a sweat shop and before I knew, it I was able to fit everything back in my car with room to spare. I drank a few beers to relax me and finally went to bed. In the morning I moved the remainder of my belongings back into the car and before I left, my mom asked me if I wanted to take a lamp. I stood and pondered the question. My brain hadn’t quite flipped the power switch on and something about her question rubbed familiarity against my cranium…

I smiled. Took the lamp and left for my new place.