"Signs That Might Be Omens"

It's still much too quiet in Norman right now. So few of my friends are actually here right now...or rather, I'm aware of only a few of them actually being in town. But I know that'll all change this weekend, when everyone comes back and when I get back into the semester grind. On Sunday I have two meetings--one for the school paper (I apparently have the Friday slot for my cartoon), and another for work (and my boss is feeding us, which is always nice).

It feels like I've sort of wasted most of the week. I meant to do a lot of research this week so I could start working on my Thesis in earnest. But instead, I had to deal with standing in line an entire afternoon at the Bursar's Office and with going to the Housing Office to tell them to stop trying to charge me a late fee on something that wasn't late.

Admittedly, those are just excuses; if I was serious about getting my research done, I'd have done it, plain and simple. And that rather worries me--just how serious am I about getting this degree finished, and about getting a PhD? I mean, I say I want to teach History, and I know a big part of me truly does. But then there's also a little voice that says, "that's too much work, and is it really worth all that work?" Of course, there's also the delusional voice that keeps telling me I could make a living with my creative endeavours, such as Crooked Halo or my writing or music. And that voice is quiet delusional--I don't have enough readers for the Halo to support me financially (especially since most of the Dim Bulb readership are poor college students like myself who can barely support themselves), and I don't have any writing that's ready to be published (short stories aren't worth enough to live off of). I also don't harbor any illusions about just how well I sing. Clif and I's songs are good, I know they are; I'm just probably not the one who will sing them if they ever get us a record contract. I'd like to imagine I could become a professional songwriter, though I don't know if I'd be comfortable with someone else singing my songs (and that is how I think of them. I've very possessive of my intellectual property). I also don't think that the kind of musicians who'd sing my songs need professional songwriters. That's the problem with my lyrical style--I fall firmly into the singer-songwriter genre, though I'm not all that good of a singer. Call me a latter-day Bob Dylan. Unfortunately, I'm not attractive enough to the general public to make that sort of thing work. Sure, back in the '60s, when folks cared more about your message than your image, I could have been a contender, but in today's visual and aesthetic-dominated music industry, I'd never make it. Besides, I despise the record industry, and can't afford to do much on my own.

It's all a rather academic exercise, really. I don't know what my future really holds yet, and by "future" I mean "a few months away." I literally have no idea what will happen when I graduate. Oh, I know I will, because despite my plodding and foot dragging, I know I'll get this Thesis hammered out in good time when it gets down to the crunch. It's just a question of where and what after that. Will I stay in Oklahoma for the summer? Or will I take dad's idea and head off for wherever it is I'm bound in the Fall early and find myself a job? That sounds like the best idea, except that wherever I go, I'm going to know no one, and that thought still frightens me a lot. I don't like the idea of being alone, and never really have. To paraphrase Nick Hornby, only people of a certain disposition are afraid of being alone at age 23, and I am of that disposition, I guess. I was of that disposition when I was 18, I think, and that's really kind of worrying. It probably tells you more about my personality than you might have wanted to know. I'm...needy, I guess.

Ah well. All those worries can be left to the future. For now, I just need to take it one moment at a time, a day at a time. And today's going to be enough, what with my mother and youngest sibling coming for a visit. This is going to be an exercise in self-destruction, as I know that my mediocre cleaning job yesterday is not going to be up to mom's standards. And you know what? I bloody well don't care.

~chaos cricket

Song of the Moment: Free, "All Right Now"