Gee, it’s been awhile. I’ve wondered what it would be like for me to be at absolute peace; still wondering, by the way. However, my mind is at the clearest it’s been in several years, perhaps ever. Self-analysis, self-reflection, you’ve name it, I’ve done it. I can’t say I feel bad for anything I’ve done, but I can’t be wholly proud of my actions. I’ve tried to avoid lingering feelings about things that have happened while absolving myself of things that will happen. That should happen. That must happen. Or some sort.
Thoughts on work…I no longer want to work in customer service. Ever. People suck, and ill-prepared management is an exercise in futility. I’ve spoken with my former co-workers on occasion, and they’re all just as miserable as I was when I left. Things don’t change when it comes to systematic oppression, considering that no one cares enough to fight against stupidity. If Cash America could get Occupied, I’d definitely lead the charge. Sure, it’s cynical of me to wish ill about people who employed me for years, but a wink and a nod excuses any past transgressions…right? Fine, it doesn’t, but if asked to choose between a customer’s life and my own, I’d gladly use the customer as a shield. Same applies to certain managers.
Grad school includes applying to other schools in pursuit of the final degree. To be honest, the thought of another four years gives me considerable pause, but I don’t know what I’d be like if I wasn’t actively involved in education. I guess it’s my atonement for not using all of my talent. I know people would kill for my capabilities; I’d prefer to think about what I haven’t accomplished. I still have a lot of mileage to travel, so no bitching until the last gun sounds.
Six years in Long Beach. Six very long years. Six very eventful years. I know that when I write my summation in May, it will be slightly different, as my last semester on campus will see a different me. The best way I can describe it as Iron Man transitioning from Mark I armor to Extremis, then deciding that Bleeding Edge would be the next practical evolution. After December, Bleeding Edge. But enough comic book talk since I can’t seem to focus. The last couple years, the only thing I’ve been able to think about is where I went wrong with Pippa. My mother tells me that I genuinely loved her. Since I’ve been on dates (with shockingly hilarious results), I do contend that was the one I should’ve never let get away. My new prodigy brought her up, as he’s doing his damndest to ascend to my title. He ran into her, mentioned me, came back and told me about it, and listened to the full story about how things proceeded. I thought I was a villain and can’t shake the idea that perhaps, I was. Or I am. But I can’t always be the villain if I consider myself the sane one in the group.
A family friend told me that my personality hasn’t changed in 20 years; it’s only been enhanced since I learned how to properly be me. A cold personality, steely resolve, and an unwavering desire to be great. My humanity came at the expense of wanting to push success to the next great platitude. I want to redefine winning while winning. But I wanted Pippa as well. I would’ve taken her over the winning. Maybe that’s contradictory, because I thought she was the definition of winning. Dating seems hollow at the moment, but alas, it must be done. I just wish that I could rewrite history once.
Until then, I guess I’ll just write history while abusing South Beach in March. WrestleMania XXVIII. The dynamic’s a bit off, different than my preference, but I have a feeling that just like my other endeavors, I’ll figure it out sooner or later. Miami is definitely a recipe for winning.
Skibbedebebop. Much later.
Current Track – Downstait “Smoke and Mirrors”