Today my aunt called me at about 5pm today. She says, how are you doing, are there any new developments in your life, how is work, how is school, etc. Most things anyone's aunt would ask them. An aunt who is distant and whom one can only visit once every year, or every other year. I tell her about what I'm studying, how much I enjoy it, how I like my professors and faculty, how I like my college, how I like my job, what I'm doing there and what I like about it, how my father is doing, lying if he is not doing well, but using an unsure tone if I am so she may understand without me speaking negative about him, what great things he is doing, how happy he is doing these things.
Maybe you are noticing a pattern. I do not think my situation is unique. There is so much I wish I could tell my aunt. She calls me every other Sunday if possible, ever since I lost my mother. I could tell my mom a little more, maybe a lot more. Yes, I could tell her almost everything! Somehow, sometime I will.
I should have told my aunt about what I did last night, why didn't I? I don't appreciate people being vague, why am I doing it myself? I think I was just startled and upset by her call, and when I am startled and upset, I play it safe by dealing with generalities. Much like the small talk at work.
I want to do more drugs. I wish I could find some opiates, some hydrocodone, oh that would be splendid, laying here, eating some ice cream, gazing at Dostoevsky's writing and...well, provided I could still follow the novel, it would be nice. In the past I had taken too much and I would just vegetate in front of my computer listening to ambient music and wasting my high time in front of mindless internet forums with stupid people arguing about how stupid the other person was.
Oh dear. What am I going to do with my life? My slightly older cousin will soon finish his business degree. My uncle, the Canadian capitalist, strongly believes his son will find a job in their Candadian economy in 5 minutes, starting between forty and sixty thousand Canadian dollars a year. After speaking to my mentor about this, the frailties in my uncle's comparison between my and my slightly older Canadian cousin became clear: If I pursued a degree in business, I would want to kill myself! -in a miserable fury, a kind of fury that lurks in the back of your mind, and writhes more as you age and fail to appease the objectives you set out to complete years ago. That sort of fury that triggers quarter and mid-life crises! I may be less attractive than my Canadian cousin, and while I could never muster the votes for my branded self to be Student Body President (of XXX private Christian college {UGH! GAG!}), I am a far more interesting person, with my struggles, my battles, my anguish, my old poverty, my rage, my highs, my ecstasies, elements he will never know! I am special! Listen to me! Hire me! Also, he'll have to work in offices! I have learned, in my work and experience, that offices are the bane of consciousness! The classroom, the studio, the library, the lecture hall, the streets, the outdoors, the kitchen and the bedroom are where things of importance spawn! And my girlfriend's on birth control, so let's just say things of importance happen there, not spawn. I'm too queer to be a breeder, but not queer enough to play with the boys. I know, I know. God made me this way. If only there was something I could do to remove this curse...but let's not go there today.
I know, I'm not modest here, I don't have to be. I am being silly, too. And I am hungry, so I will leave this library (where something of importance is spawning) for the kitchen (where something of importance will spawn).
As for what I'm going to do with my life, I'm going to drive home, make some tortellini, maybe drink some wine, get to page 60 in this novel, play a video game, and who knows what else, but I'm going to enjoy it. I've been working my ass off, except for last night, I need to take it easy, on my own. God bless America.
Maybe my cousin will make 40-60K CEOing the company that Trader Joe's imports their tortellini from.
Nah...
I don't think any of their products come from Canada.
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