Despite how life changing college is meant to be, I feel a lack of mental preparation for life after classes, feigned academia, and half-assed research. Me in the sea of educated misfits. You tell me every other graduate is feeling this, you’re not bettering my crisis. You’re just multiplying it to include the masses. Four years, and if I’m honest with myself, I put more into school than I give myself credit for and a lot less than others give to me. And settling somewhere between over exertion and a total lack of effort is exactly where I fit most comfortably. Which is why satisfaction is in very scarce supply.
I think this post is prone to cryptic ramblings of introspection. And so as not to disappoint, meaningless rambles: commence.
I budget my attentiveness to consolidate disappointments and achievements into measurable categories. There are boundaries to assure limitations. The bipolar can relate with this fear: the letting up of one emotional extreme will inevitably warrant the converse. So I tic the the number of let downs to ensure they match up with the number of successes, which leaves a healthy leveling out. Which is the rationalization of my reservation on passion, inward deprecation, and a general tendency to scoff at dreams that are not easy to fulfill.
I’ve never had a permanent falling out with someone. As far as I know. Save for that weird kid who asked me to Jr/Sr banquet (I used the just friends line. I was caught off guard, okay.) Also, I think I attract the crazies. Because opposites attract–and I’m the most sane person I know. Obviously.
