Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Restaurant Eyes

I am sick. It's not a cold, or the flu. It's my eyes. No, not pink-eye.

I can't shake my restaurant eyes.

There is certain way of looking when you work in a restaurant. You must cast your gaze on the floor exactly twelve feet ahead of you, not blinking, eyes partially closed. You don't look anyone in the eye, but rather focus on a spot just to the right. There is never anything in the foreground, it is all background. Nothing stands out. You can evade any obstacles while still paying attention to the movement around you.

This is a great technique for work, but not for the outside world. I am having problems reading because it all blends together. I rely greatly on my sight, but my eyes have become apathetic to what is aroud me.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

I sit and wait for an epiphany, just one modicum of clarity. It doesn't come. I am looking for a little direction, a little advice.

I don't even want to go to Eau Claire this year, but there is no way I can pay off my loans if I drop out. I won't be returning to East Troy, it is the loneliest place I know. I don't think transferring elsewhere will make a difference, because it will bring another bundle of dissatisfaction and frustration. In order to qualify for any study abroad programs, I need to have a 4.0 this semester, which, for me, is impossible. I don't see why I have to be defined by a degree. I hate all the fucking hoops I have to jump through.

It has been a fond wish of mine to disappear, to be in a constant state of departure. But, problems don't ever leave with a change of scenery. There is no escape, is there? I don't want to be tied down by any rules, people and things, but that's how it is.

Friday, August 10, 2007

12 confessions at 3:35 a.m.

1. I am a closet 'Sex and the City' viewer. Don't judge me.

2. I am incapable of driving in reverse. Same goes for parking in a straight line.

3. I hate pickles. Yet if there is one on my plate, I take as small bite of it-- just in case it magically changes taste.

4. I love when things are punctuated correctly, but often make mistakes myself.

5. I hate it when people see me eat.

6. I don't enjoy wearing sneakers.

7. I change my mind constantly.

8. I'm having coffee with my old AP Lit teacher in the morning, but I'm worried I won't have anything to say.

9. I love to cook, but as a job, I despise it.

10. Ortho Evra turns me into an emotional lunatic.

11. I can't stand it when people say to me, "You've never heard of it? I thought everyone's seen it."

12. I love my skin because it is soft, but I hate it because of my horrible acne.

Monday, August 06, 2007

Education Crisis

As I go on, I am seeing less and less sense in staying at university. I have to go through many pointless classes that just suck time and money, I am going for an entirely useless degree, and the more classes I take, the more my love of learning wanes. I don't even know why I am going for a degree, anyhow. Why is it so important? I'm already more learned than most people I encounter on a daily basis. The classes we take are just brief surveys, we don't even dig into the subjects we are being taught. How can anyone be "prepared" for life with what we're given at university? Students often spend more time coming up with creative ways to blow off class than they spend learning. I am so torn as to what I should do. I love being an english major, and I don't want to give it up, but there is so much bullshit involved that I find myself drowning in mediocrity.

Plan 1: finish out this year at Eau Claire, loading up on english classes (because there is nought else that I am good at), transferring to Shimer for a year and taking only the classes that interest me and telling them to fuck themselves with their GE program, and seeing where to go from there.

Plan 2: also finishing out this year, and then spending a year travelling the world.

Plan 3: " , Transferring to U of M and finish my English degree there and take advantage of their Humanities minor.

Plan 4: Staying at Eau Claire and try to finish my degree as swiftly as possible, THEN travel the world.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

For those who decide to bitch about my cooking, I redirect you to The Sneeze's "Steve, Don't Eat It!" segment. Then you'll come crying back to me with open arms.

Yeah, lentils smell like feet, but at least I'm not cooking up any Ralph's Potted Meat Product.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

There a few things I have learned while working at the Pub:
1. There should be an IQ test for busboys.
2. Never hire anyone named Kristil, EVER.
3. Even with only one arm, Corey can still make a sandwich faster than anyone.

Clearing a table only takes two brain cells, yet our bussers have only been blessed with one...and they have to share it. The waitresses didn't even want to tip the guy tonight, so I ended up with all the tips. Not that I'm complaining about that. I had to stay and close because of this guy, and I'm covering for him later in the week. Asshole didn't even say thank you.

Now on the subject of Kristil. I can't believe that my taxes are paying that crackwhore's rent and medical bills. CrackBaby is 'disabled' and so the state is supporting Kristil. It doesn't matter that Kristil was the one who made CrackBaby disabled in the first place. I don't even think she likes kids, she just likes the attention she gets talking about them. And does she talk. We pretend that we hear the phone ringing just for an excuse to walk away from her. The guys in the kitchen hide when she comes near them. I don't know why she hasn't been fired yet.


Far, far away
From those city lights
That might be shining on you tonight
Far, far away from you
On the dark side of the moon

I long to hold you in my arms and sway
Kiss and ride on the CTA

I printed my name on the back of a leaf
And I watched it float away
The hope I had in a notebook full of white dry pages
Was all I tried to save

But the wind blew me back via Chicago
In the middle of the night
And not without fight
At the crush of veils and starlight

Saxophones started blowin' me down
I was buried in sound
The taxicabs were driving me around
To the handshake drugs I bought downtown
To the handshake drugs I bought downtown

(Lyrics by Wilco)