Almost gone from Santa Barbara. Another day or two. Problem is, I don’t know what I’m going toward. I can’t help but feel as though I’m wasting time and energy… but I don’t know what else I could (or should) be doing.
I love the tone adopted by my old department at school: harsh, unhelpful, mean-spirited, even. They keep calling me a fool, as though trying to make me panic or crumble or something by impressing on me the seriousness of grad school.
You’d think they’d realize that no-one can possibly take grad school as seriously as they take life, and right now I don’t even seem to be taking life all that seriously, all things considered. These people are a joke. All people are a joke. All things are a joke. A joke. There are a million productive things I could (and probably should) be doing, not the least of them at least trying to keep my bills paid…
…but at the moment, I’m just as likely to shoot up a room full of people for the joy of blood as I am to pay a bill. I feel like a full-on sociopath, a full-on lunatic.
They made me. They all made me. Now they can put up with me.