Driving past college today felt so weird. Like it was just another building on Park Street. I half thought of strolling in, but it's not the same. I already feel like a bit of a stranger in there. Too many new faces. But the library man has my library card. Which doesn't really matter, but I'm sentimental about these things. Oh well. I'll grant him my card. He was after all, exceptionally nice to me all these years, not fining me even once for returning books so late.
I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have chosen films over literature. I should have been a struggling writer, writing trashy Mills and Boon novels under anonymous names like Ellora Thunderbolt. I'd be perfectly happy with that. I'd be happy with that and also be happy with making gorom gorom rutis and taking the dogs for a walk. I'd be 'that woman with the dogs', whose specific role in society would always be a bit of a question mark.
There's nothing more I want to do now than waste a year. Preferably away from people I know. Incommunicado. I'm a little tired of questions, of expectations, of disapproving glances. Maybe I should get married to some stranger and move to some strange land where they speak a different language. And have lots of dogs. It's funny. I don't think I'll ever give up on the notion of being rescued by someone utterly different and wonderful. I wish I could force the damp squib in me to shut up for a while and let me dream and be silly for longer periods of time.
Anyway. I have a massive headache. I can't bear to look at the screen any longer.
I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have chosen films over literature. I should have been a struggling writer, writing trashy Mills and Boon novels under anonymous names like Ellora Thunderbolt. I'd be perfectly happy with that. I'd be happy with that and also be happy with making gorom gorom rutis and taking the dogs for a walk. I'd be 'that woman with the dogs', whose specific role in society would always be a bit of a question mark.
There's nothing more I want to do now than waste a year. Preferably away from people I know. Incommunicado. I'm a little tired of questions, of expectations, of disapproving glances. Maybe I should get married to some stranger and move to some strange land where they speak a different language. And have lots of dogs. It's funny. I don't think I'll ever give up on the notion of being rescued by someone utterly different and wonderful. I wish I could force the damp squib in me to shut up for a while and let me dream and be silly for longer periods of time.
Anyway. I have a massive headache. I can't bear to look at the screen any longer.
Labels: mellow
posted by Loony Libberswick of Llapland at 12:59 AM
2 Comments:
never say waste (a year), you know? i feel like running away all the time, and i like to believe i will, and never return. the other day i was telling my mom about wanting to drop out of college, get married to someone exotic and have babies. which now seems so similar to this.
(how i wish i was done with college already.)
Well yes - not waste, although apparently seeming so. College is not that bad. I had my share of 1st year blues as well. You get over it eventually at the end of three years, and then feel the post-college blues and whine about growing up and having to deal with a whole bunch of new kind of shit. You are slowly turning into your parents - which is both good and bad.
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