Workhorse

Another day in the country; friends all seem too busy to play. I should be busier, in fact, at this very moment, and yet instead seem to keep finding ways of distracting myself from this pressing paper deadline. One Adderall later, I'd be finished with flying colors. Tense, sore shoulders aching inside AND out (many thanks for the sympathy at work, Dave) from sunburn, weed-pulling, blower-toting, and grass-mowing. Fuck the shit-ass, bourgeois, concrete sanctuary that calls itself the Little Rock Athletic Club. I can't even get a massage for this sticky red mess of skin on my back.

There. Now that a little steam is blowing off the surface of these waters, I can say something worthwhile. Well, on second thought, nevermind. I'm still waiting for the moment at which I have "something worthwhile" to say to materialize from the primeval soup of my cerebrum. If and when that ever happens, maybe I'll get something published. Until then, I've resigned myself to continue my rather numb infatuation with the institutions of learning in Arkansas. Big fish small pond syndrome? Maybe. But that in itself is still just an arrogant laziness. Speaking of which, I was accepted to the grad program at the U of A in Fayetteville...notified that I'm at the "very top" of the list, whatever that means...especially since I can't be at the "top" of the list, because my GRE scores arrived after the deadline. I think that what the director of grad studies is saying is that as soon as a grad assistantship opens, I'll be the first on the "wait" list to receive it. Until then, I'm sort of biting my toenails in suspense. Of course I want this, but it still isn't good enough. Why the pressure? I wonder if it has anything to do with my colleague's instantaneous recognition...I feel bested. Silly as it may be, what I wanted isn't good enough since there's something better out there. What the fuck kind of egomaniacal bullshit is that steeped in? Issues, issues. Second place, second best, is almost worse than last. How single-minded of me. Somebody grab a bamboo stick; this bitch needs a beating!

Anyway, it's nice to know that the planning I've been doing about grad school hasn't been in vain. Now all I have to do is get up there and bust my ass and bash my brain to bits for twenty hours a day. Maybe I'm just not ready to be humbled like that...set up in front of a classroom and placed behind a podium (pedestal?) in order to be knocked back down. I don't want the recognition in the first place...just a track for my own train of thought to keep chugging along. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

I think I may be a bit down today. No sense in flogging this dead horse any longer.