Too Big to Fail

When the government decided to shell out billions of taxpayers’ money to shore up the economy, the company line was that these companies were too big to fail. What precisely does that mean? How could one reason that in a capitalist economy, an entity could grow “too big to fail?” I was in favor of the bailout(s), because hell, maybe an institution can have such an important place in society that if it was to go belly-up, there would be a ripple effect across the board. I’m no economist, but I wasn’t fond of letting Detroit die because that would essentially be the doom of the American automotive industry. One thing I’ve learned recently is that I too might qualify under the pretenses of being “too big to fail.”

By all means, my life isn’t perfect. It’s been a few weeks since my last writing, and I can only say I’m better at face value. I’ve had a few discussions with people I should’ve been talking to, and all of them make sense. I thought it was a validation of me being an asshole, but realistically, it’s not. People have a different way of conducting business. For the most part, I did the right things, but I got screwed over as far as my luck goes. As mentioned before, when my luck turns sour, it really does spare no expense at giving me hell. Currently, I have hit the home stretch in my undergraduate year (and possibly, Long Beach as a whole), and there’s a performance every week. The team has done some improving, partly because I’ve been more critical of things we should fix. I’m sort of a player-coach, except that I…yeah, that description sounds pretty accurate. The performance schedule bugs me because there’s a shitload of them, and at least one weekend, maybe I’d like to rest. Unfortunately, duty calls.

Speaking of duty calls, I run the financial department of all things salsa, and here’s the part that makes me feel I’m too big to fail. I secured the featured instructor, negotiated my way out of a horrendous shirt design, and have the old schoolers trying to cheer me up every week. Of course, I shouldn’t need cheering up; after all, I just became published in an academic journal. Granted, not sure which one, but I’m glad my “work” and name will be well appreciated. My personality has quirks that get me into more trouble than I care to admit, but is accepted because it brings the show to town. I’ve heard the compliment/complaint that I have a magnetic personality. Half the time, I’d rather go back to my tower and sleep. Hell, I just got the director’s cut of Almost Famous; I’m sure I could watch that and be reasonably entertained. But no, my presence is just as important as the event itself; questions arise when I’m either not there or not happy. My job is predicated on making others forget about their problems for a few hours, while I still have lingering thoughts in the back of my head. Most importantly, when is it going to be my turn? Am I going to get the girl back? Do I get my friend back? Does May come quickly enough so I can head to the strip club with my comrades and after getting bilked, watch Iron Man 2? Yes, these thoughts run through my head because success is defined by the person who chases it.

Graduation fair commenced this week, and I was unimpressed. That really bugged the crap out of me, because I felt the same way four years ago. The only time graduation was graduation was when Dr. Gen came up to my and said “congratulations.” I saw everyone in the store looking excited and celebratory, and I could only muster up a shell of indifference. I think about how my mother, family, and friends will react seeing me walk that stage…they’ll be overjoyed. However, the participant himself can only give a fake smile. I know the idea is that I’m far from done. I’ve had a charmed life, but it’s painful to smile knowing there is still work to be done. I can probably expect the same thing in two years when I get my MA, which again, hurts. However, if I’m still unsatisfied when I get my PhD, I’m going to be pissed. Maybe I’ve been deluding myself all these years into thinking that titles were the be all, end all. Seeing as I was happiest when I was sharing the wealth, it could be the case. Or maybe I’m just talking out of my ass, because I know there will be some sick joy hearing students refer to me as Dr. Guy. Over the summer, I’m quite sure I’ll need to hang out with Brandon and Jordan more to get back to being dangerously cynical. If I was told I’d devolve into this much of a bitch…I’d only laugh after hearing the reason for it. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Kevin Rudolf “I Made It”

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