Boy oh boy has this post been on the back burner or what?!?
Spring Break begins Friday around 2:50 when I get out of my PSYC 102 test on chapters 7 & 8 of a book I hardly open. But that's cool cuz I've only missed that class once and I've got some excellent notes. The eight days that I'll be home next week are eight days I will relish and cherish and absolutely love, for if no other reason, I'll be back in Chicago. Sure, it's 18 degrees in March but just saying the word "Chicago" brings a smile to my face.
This doesn't mean I don't have a lot of bullshit to do, I do. I've got quite the schedule when I'm home. I've got to do my taxes, in hope that I get some money despite the fact that I haven't worked since August 2005. I have to do my FAFSA forms, in hopes that I get more money from this government that is trying to steal the potential of the youth that they expect to take care of them when they're old and gray. I also have to put a résumé and cover letter together for a potential summer job working for an attorney. I also have to have some nice "sit-down" chats with my parents concerning my summer plans, living arrangements for next year and possibly some type of transportation.
Don't get me wrong, my Spring Break ain't all about business. I'm already booked this Saturday night, a nice lil' drinkin' night with the boys; and Sunday too watching some college hoops action and the Selection Sunday Show to see where my SIU Salukis will be seeded by the evil committee. Tuesday, I have a Justin Timberlake concert to attend (I'll touch on that later.) And then the next Saturday, I've been hearing about a family pizza party. And of course, you know there will be surprises along the way.
However to get to that point, I've had to endure a grueling three week period that started off on a good note, hit a bump in the road and then it was all down hill after that.
Three weeks ago things were going fine. I was happy, my school work was getting done, my personal life was slowly (like a snail, but a forward is forward no matter how you spin it) moving in a positive direction and I was generally happier than I am now.
Then I had a bout with optimism. I was in line for three writing opportunities. One was as a free-lance writer for a health magazine that would have payed me $150 per article, which would be $150 more than I have in my pocket right now. Then there was the job at the school newspaper, the Daily Egyptian which is something I want to do before I leave this place. And then there was the Cubs blog writing opportunity.
I know you're thinking "Lu, you already have a Cubs blog." But this was different. This was a legit blog and would have been the first step towards that whole journalistic writing thing. It would have been a nice first step, and then I would have been writing about the Cubs--it was too good to be true.
Unfortunately, it indeed was too good to be true. I was applying for the DE Sports section, which had an opening....and opening that was filled the day before I handed in my application. Talk about heart breaking. I never heard back from the free-lance gig, and I'm not sure about the Cubs writing gig, but I noticed that they have a gang of new writers that doesn't include yours truly.
That all went down two Friday's ago. And I spent most of my day frustrated with the Cubs ticket office, who wouldn't accept my phone call and I was unable to get through on the internet for whatever reason. I guess they don't want my "Cubs fan 'til I die" attitude there to support the team. I don't know what happened, in the end I had to use my roommate's phone to order the tickets I wanted. Good, but not great seats. Oh, did I mention he's a Cards fan? I'm sure he won't live this down for a while. Let's just say I had a miserable Friday.
Actually, I should go back to that last Tuesday, Fat Tuesday where I went out to Mardi Gras at Copper that was totally overrated and had me upset to the point where I walked home in disgust by myself. But I got over it, because I woke up sober the next morning. Maybe I should point to the Saturday before that when I went out and paid a cover at Gatsby's for no damn reason except to be in a crowded, smoke filled place that I had no interest in being at in the first place.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg.
For the last two weeks, I've been bombarded with school work. For the last two weeks, I've had a major writing assignment due or a test in each of my five classes. Poems were due on Mondays. JRNL 310 assignments due Tuesdays. Wednesdays were study days for tests and quizzes that occurred on Thursdays. If it wasn't a test, there were more papers due on Fridays.
But wait, there's more.
The more I'm down here, the more I feel as if I want to go home. Sometimes I feel as if I just want to quit. Other days it's like I just want a fresh start away from the south. But I don't want to be seen as a failure or a quitter. That enough is motivation for me to stay and finish the job at SIU. But sometimes I think to myself if it's even worth it.
I haven't accomplished anything that I've sought out for since I've been here. I haven't written for the school paper, which is a total downer for someone who is a journalism major who loves to write and is desperate to be the next best sports writer.
My grades have been mediocre as a whole, of course the grades for my writing classes stand out in a positive light, but that unfortunately doesn't make up for shitty grades in math and science classes.
My personal life is in shambles, and that's putting it in a positive perspective. I know if someone reads this they'll say "You're so negative, no wonder your personal life sucks." But emotionally, I feel beat. Mentally, I feel tired. And physically, I'm not happy with myself.
I think the thing that hurts the most about this subtle, yet seemingly disasterous downfall has been my inability to find a date. You would think that someone with as many friends as I have would be able to find a date to see Justin Timberlake. Nope. Not me, can't find a date for the life of me. Two Facebook notes, no response. Two My Space Blogs, no response. Two My Space bulletins (which go out to every friend I have--all 181 of them), no motherfucking response!
You know how sad that makes me feel? That there is not one fucking girl that is even interested in a date, and it's not like she's paying for the ticket or for dinner or for anything at all. Again, I've been spurned by Cupid.
I know if a certain friend reads this, she'll shake her head and be very disappointed in me, especially after the pep talk she gave me about having so much in front of me, but after everythign fell through that one week I've been left to wonder "Now what?"
It's just sad that I haven't been able to orchestrate a date on my own since my sophomore year of high school, that saddens me---almost to the point of depression. And I take a look around and I think to myself things like "Where did I go wrong?" and "What's wrong with me?" It's not even "Why Not Lu? Why Not Now?" or "What if I was Lu?" It's more like "Wham! Bam! What the fuck is happening!?!"
It seems as if everyone around me is in love or at least has been in love while I sit in my room wondering "When's my turn?" I feel like the last kid being picked in gym class. Too bad I can't fake being sick. I'm going to have to live through this one way or another.
My shortcomings in that department are really magnified and exposed not because of myself, but because of others around me, and that's a shame because it shouldn't be that way. But that's just the way it is. Especially if you're a guy. Especially when you're 20 years away from a movie being made about you. Especially when you take shots all the damn time. Whether they're intended, subliminal, whatever. Three years of continuous shots is not good for the soul. It's why I have to take shots at myself sometimes, to lessen the blow of something worse that could have been said.
I truly am sick and tired of my situation. I hate it. Second fiddle sucks. Being a back up plan sucks. Being "just friends" sucks. Being the sounding board sucks. Being me in general sucks. Being played sucks. Thinking "woulda, coulda, shoulda" sucks. Being resigned to think about "what could have been" all the fucking time sucks. Yeah, there are positives, but you know what when the negatives are beating you senseless you wonder if the end gains are worth the pain you're feeling now.
The saddest thing about this whole ordeal is that I never used to be like this. Not never. I used to be more thick skinned. This didn't use to effect me. It didn't bother me. I was stronger. I was more emotionally stable.
Now, I crumble at the first sign of things not going my way. Now, I'm an emotional wreck that's on the verge of snapping every day and the only thing that keeps him happy is the slight ray of hope that only exists because I am a Cubs fan, no joke.
Things aren't easy, I understand that. But when they come easy for everyone else, you can't help but to think "What the fuck are they doing that I'm not doing?"
I realize this post is getting long and there is still so much on my mind to vent, but I'm getting tired and I have class at 11:00 a.m. So I guess I'll close by referencing soon to be ex-Indiana State University basketball coach Royce Waltman. Royce makes some strong allegations in this article, recognizing his ouster.
"Well, I can't get a head coaching job, because if you get fired for cheating you can get hired right back again," Waltman said. "But if you get fired for losing you're like you've got leprosy.
When I first read that quote on ESPN.com, I laughed because it's kind of true. But the fact that I can apply that to my personal life is downright sad. For three years I've put my priorities in front of me, and nothing has fallen through. I've put my morals, beliefs and feelings on my shoulders and nothing comes of it. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and it gets stabbed.
The funny thing is, that in my heart of hearts, that if one thing doesn't happen here while another thing happens here. Something gets said here. Everything is different. Instead I'm going to bed alone and sad. Wishing and hoping that a better day would come. Wishing and hoping for a reason to smile again. Wishing and hoping there was a cure for what ails me.
This fucking sucks. I'm pissed off and the worse thing about this all is that someone out there has it worse than I do, but for some reason since I've been here at SIU, I've become as fragile as a porcelain doll.