Damnit, Crystal, I hope you’re happy, especially since there’s a really good chance that you’re the only one who reads this anymore. Not that I want you thinking I’m doing this because of your really annoying two comments in the last month or so–you don’t have that sort of power over me. (Well, maybe a little. But don’t get a big head about it.)
I haven’t written since May because, well, the more things change the more they stay the same. I think I’ll refer to this summer as "The Lost Summer" in homage to The Lost Weekend. See, at the end of April, a friend and I realized just how much alike we were in our metaphysical outlook in general, and our thoughts about school in specific. He, a former graduate student, and me, who was more or less a former grad student except in name. I don’t want to make it sound all bad, because it wasn’t, but the long and short of it is that we enabled each other, and there were more than a few nights where we opened and closed the bar. A few nights–a week. And then, when the money ran out, we simply bought cases of High Life ("The Champagne of Beers") and drank at his place. Impressively, we were able to make a "beer can pyramid" not only out of cans, but out of the cardboard cases.
So that was the summer: sloth and gluttony were paramount. (I nice change from pride and envy, the two that usually keep me company.) Sure, I did do some cool things (like travel 3 hours to see a Tom Waits concert) and meet some cool people and got my first phone number at the bar (though, unfortunately, nothing came of it). And now school’s starting again, and I’m so far behind that I need to be a hermit for two months or so. See, I thought I was going to officially quit but I didn’t, though I did quit in my mind. So more than a couple "I"s dot my transcript and those need to turn to "A"s or "B"s or they kick me out.
And I’ve realized a few things from all this. One, I have to get it done, because if I leave school, I want it to be on my own goddamn terms and not theirs (oh, that good ol’ pride is coming back…) Two, that, actually, this is a pretty good deal, especially since the economy is going to shit and my funding is guaranteed if I stay in good standing. I knew this already, of course, but I’m dense and often need reminding. Grad school is shit, sure, but all is shit, and this shit is shit that more people wish they had. Indeed, it was heading back home to Idaho–and I think I’ve made my feelings about that place well known–that convinced me of this. Yeah, the Ivory Tower is made of shit (bullshit, to be exact) but it ain’t exactly roses out there and (this is my point, finally!) the frame of reference is important. Third, that this, really, is so much easier than I am making it. I don’t want to produce shit, but everyone else does, and that’s okay, apparently. My standards are too high.
Which is not to imply that I like grad school any more. I don’t, and I don’t think I ever will. But I’m approaching it differently, and it might just be enough to make it survivable. It’s still early, though, so I wouldn’t put money on it either way.
This morning, I turned on the water for my shower and went to step in. There was a spider caught in the stream flowing from the back of the tub. It tried to get out, but kept slipping closer and closer to the drain. I knew it had no hope, but I wonder if it thought it did. It got to the drain, but the grate kept it from the nether tubes and, for a second, it looked peaceful. It couldn’t get out, but the flow of the water seemed to pass over it, leaving it unmoved, like in the eye of a hurricane. It tried to go left, but the stream got it again and, now, sent it down the drain.
I watched all this, and it took but a minute. I thought that maybe I should kill it, becuase suffering is bad no matter what it is. But I didn’t for purely selfish reasons (it might bite me, or I’d have to get something wet that I didn’t want to get wet). So, I just watched and thought that it was, perhaps, an appropriate metaphor.