I know I previously said that my life is over in my past post. And that resulted in some concern from Dad. But lately I have been saying a lot of things that I don’t mean. For example when people say Congratulations about graduation and I smile and say “Thank you it’s so exciting”. This is a lie. Typically “This is so exciting” in actuality means “This is so scary I could hyperventilate and pass out”. Another favorite is when I say “It is time to move on”. What this actually means is “I never want to move on ever and if you bring up the fact that it is time to move on again I may a) hyperventilate and pass out or b) break out into hysterics which you will have the responsibility of quelling over several sniveling hours.” Another is when I say “Well at least we had a great 4 years.” Although I do know in the back of my mind that I will mean this in the future, for the time being this means, “I wish I would have spent more time in a chemistry lab or in the library instead of enjoying every second of these past four years because then maybe I wouldn’t be this devastated that they are over.” The parents have assured me that I will not actually be crying for the rest of my life and I will not need a life time of therapy for the pain I am suffering. At first did not believe them. The thought that I won’t be able to walk out of my front door and know at least 10 people walking bye had me plummeting quite rapidly. That I won’t be able to meet up with friends in seconds. That I will once again be anonymous. That I will actually have to start over. All of these thoughts convinced me I will never get over the loss of college comfort. But, then I reconsidered. I filed through my years of experiences and memories and remembered a similar, much more intense fear that I felt before coming to Cornell. Change is not a favorite of mine. I am quite content with routine in an elderly retirement lifestyle sort of manner. (Breakfast at 9, walk at noon, bingo at 2, bridge at 4…) But you know what, with my chameleon like tendencies I know everything will be okay. I’ll be salsa dancing and tanning before I know with the best of them. And although all I can think about is the Will Smith ditty, I think I’ll do just fine. Bienvenido a Miami baby!!!
Since this past summer there are two comments/ questions that I receive from the general public on a daily basis. These people, once finding out I am graduating from college, undoubtably ask what my plans are for next year. This is a completely logical and polite question. What I don’t appreciate is the alternative comment. The painful look and the sucking in of breath as the commenter states, “Well I hope you enjoy the rest of your time.” It’s as if I am terminally ill, with only a few more weeks to live. And I don’t know if its because they rubbed off on me or not, but this is how I feel. This morning I accepted a job offer and as of June 5th, my life is officially over. For a while there I was quite content to pretend that college was actually going to go on forever. That I would never actually have to leave this little oasis of non stop fun having. But the realization that I now have to make money instead of continuing to consume it has finally struck. Needless to say, this is a bummer. So if I am a bit touchy, its because more and more each day this is sinking in and I am not happy about it.
For those of you that don’t know I have been involved in an extremely abusive relationship this year. This guy has been controlling, selfish, and flighty and I just can’t seem to leave. His name is ipod and though every other day I get so frustrated I need to meditate for hours to rid myself of the trouble he has caused, I just can’t seem to forget all of the good times. I can’t push away all of the times he walked me to my job this summer whispering beautiful melodies in my ear. The times he tuned out all of the barbaric 50 year old frat boys on the train. The times he went to the gym with me gently encouraging me to run faster and work harder. I can’t forget how he drops me off at hotel school every morning getting me pumped up for each day of note taking and studying. He tunes out all of the background noise in the library and helps motivate me to take my morning walk/runs. He also has this way about him. He knows when I need to hear some soothing music after I’ve had a bad day. He knows when I need to add a little bounce to my step. He knows when I am feeling romantic and when I need to get out some aggression. These are what I choose to remember overall. I somehow forget about the times when he refuses to play anything but Phish. The times that he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue and refuses to turn on. I try to get him back, I push all combinations of his four buttons but that face just keeps staring at me and laughing. I forget how many times he has left at weeks at a time and comes back with no memory of all of my music and preferences. It’s as if he doesn’t even know me anymore. He just looks at me with a blank stare as I plug him in and we start all over again. Then there are the times on my 6 hour bus trips to CT that he refuses to sing to me at all. I am forced to listen to the mundane chatter and the bullshit whining of the sniveling misfits that surround me. Then there are the times when he tricks me by starting a song and then 30 seconds into it he freezes. During these moments and weeks when he is gone I feel lost and alone. Everyone walks around me with their headphones dangling, their hips swaying to the sweet music playing in their ears. And at night I cry because the music in my life is gone. Recently he left me and I cried these tears. I thought it may be over; I was going to call it quits for good. I had a plan, an escape route. As I was about to make the fateful phone call he came back to life and just like that I let him back into my life to fill my days with his harmonious music. And once again all of his sins were forgotten. And I have now embarked on this abusive cycle once again. I figure that when is here it is good enough to make up for all of the bad he has done, and that is good enough for me.