DATE: 7/22/2002 05:53:00 PM
Today...I caught myself...watching Tailerdate...on Mtv...this afternoon...
help...me...sinking...Artex...don't let the sadness get yoooo....
I hated that movie.
Surprisingly, I think I'm overcoming my characteristic allergy to boredom. Either that or I've gone completely around the bend and just don't know it yet. It's not a good situation by any means.
Today I rolled out of bed at 2:30, regular like clockwork. I got up and promptly deposited my ass into another reasonably large, soft, receptacle, and read for a while. I suppose that's ok--reading is at least an activity that requires intelligence as well as mere consciousness.
But soon the idiot box began its siren wail. Before I knew it, there I was, flipping through channels, ascertaining after about thirty seconds that on easily 100 offerings on my cable service, there was nothing I cared to watch, but continuing to watch anyway.. I was only able to shock myself back into awareness and re-join my body when the blonde on Taildaters said to her date, "Um...I don't like to read." Literally. Seriously. She said that. If that's not enough to break me out of a stupor, then there's real cause for alarm. As a matter of fact, if there's ever an emergency and I go catatonic or stop breathing, just play back a tape of that. It'll shock me back sure as shit.
My sister's (boy)friend Ben just called and I couldn't find the hold button on my own phone. What the fuck. Am I brain dead or what? Burst an aneurysm and not know it?
I would say my life sucks right now, but I don't really feel like it does. In fact, life is pretty beautiful at this point. Sleeping as late as I want, spending the daylight hours floating along on the very upper reaches of consciousness, spending the night with friends...when will this ever be my situation again? I'm at the point, I think, where boredom doesn't scare me. It's a rare ore to be mined and enjoyed for as long as possible.
Especially since, last night, I started thinking about UMass again. I pictured myself walking around near the student union, pictured myself in a dorm room, pictured myself in the horrendous library elevator, trudging to Bartlett, and then it hit me like a freight train--I actually am going to have to go back there. I'm actually going to have to walk to the U-Store again for highlighters, trudge into town for books at Atticus, eat at Antonio's and D.P.Dough, listen to people outside my window yell, "Shut the...FUCK...UP!!" at one another for no reason, sit through class, walk past Radical Student Union flyers...please, dear God, no. I already feel like that part of my life is over. The idea that I'd have to go back there, actually go back and do all that stuff for another three months is about as appealing as scraping my gums with broken glass. I honestly feel like I'm about to have bamboo shoots shoved none too politely under my fingernails. Oh, fuck, I think, Oh, fuck, and I panic.
And then a small part of me says, soothingly, Just don't think about it. Just don't think at all. It's the only way we'll get through this.
And I obey. Because what else is there?