I just had an interview for a job that, if I got it, would likely require me to get up at ridiculous hours and commute for an hour and a half or more just to stand around all day in the heat dealing with compost. That doesn’t sound like much fun, does it? Truth be told, I wouldn’t describe it as my dream job. But if I’m offered the position, I will probably take it. It’s a step forward, isn’t it? My idol, Neil Gaiman, said that it’s helpful to picture one’s goals as a mountain, and to ask whether each decision would take them closer to or farther away from the mountain. In my case, the mountain is simply not feeling like shit all the time. I suppose any job in a field related to environmentalism is better than a job in a field not related to environmentalism. So there’s that.
I feel that I need to say something about language. You see, people are far too hung up on sparing other’s feelings, and I don’t mean that in the way that bigoted douchebags are always scolding others for being politically correct just because we don’t like hearing them say that gay marriage is a threat to human civilization. Mainly, I’m just tired of hearing people say “the n-word”. It’s not something that you should go throwing around without regard for who might overhear you, and I have never and will never call somebody a nigger. But that’s my point. I’ve read a lot of articles about racism in one form or another over the years (with the Paula Deen scandal being the most recent example), but I’m still not clear on why white people can’t say “nigger” in the proper context. One of my college professors basically apologized for saying it in class, and he was reading aloud from Huckleberry Finn! He had more than a touch of the liberal guilt, that one. I am a liberal, but I am not guilty. I grew up in the suburbs and was raised by parents who made more money than most, but so what? By the standards of that part of the country, we were barely even upper-middle-class, let alone rich. I’m just saying that I dislike being told what I can and can’t say based solely on my skin color and background. That’s not reverse racism, just racism.
The thing about summer is that it’s always, for me, the most nostalgic time of year. That bugs me. I can’t help but think back on every summer I’ve ever had, or even just every time where it was bright and sunny. I probably had my last real summer two or three years ago, as these days, I’m mostly just focused on finding a job. I haven’t been on a vacation in a very long time, so I kind of just while away my time working at the library and planning for the future. It’s mostly fairly unremarkable, although I am kind of excited to see Pacific Rim. It’s easy to go on Facebook and feel like everyone else’s life is more exciting than yours, but then again, I’m not sure that they feel the same way about me. I still think a lot of people just don’t get me, and I’m not really that complicated. So I’ll keep my whining to a minimum for the time being.
My mother always tells me to just keep plugging away. I’m not entirely sure what she means. I know that I could always move back in with my father in California, but who wants to do that? I left that state for a reason. At the same time, I have this constant feeling of wanting to take several weeks or even months to just do whatever the hell I want, but I can’t, because I have to figure out this apartment/employment/computer situation and so forth. (There’s more to come on that, so just hang on a minute.) A few years ago, I graduated from my undergrad school, moved back in with my father, then moved into some friends’ place when it turned out they needed a subletter. It was okay. I got a job at one of our school dining halls where I got to eat free meals and the staff was disproportionately black (but also very, very nice). When I told my mom that I’d found a job, all she wanted to know was how long I could have it for (they were keeping me on as a student even though I’d already graduated) and shit like that. “Mom, I found a job!” I wanted to shout. Seriously, it was the first time in my life that I’d been paying for my own rent and groceries. (My dad still covers my cell phone bill, as well as my credit card bill, although I rarely use it.) But all she wanted to know about was the future.
I was going to have some friends over to watch Doctor Who this Friday, but no one seemed interested. Everyone is either out of town or preoccupied with other shit. So I might bake something just for fun, since that’s one thing that has worked for me so far. Other than that, the only thing I know for sure is that Tom Baker is still my favorite Doctor and that I intend to keep rambling until everything makes sense and I achieve nirvana. Keep that in mind, will you?
It doesn’t help that I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. This is nothing new for me, but I tend to lie awake for at least an hour these days. There was a time when I could get eight hours a night no matter what happened the night before and no matter what I had to do the next day, but those days are long gone, and I’m not sure I’ll ever see them again. I guess they call this “growing up”.