Shades of Destination

Achromatopsia, Scopolamine, Focalization, Close-Reading, Oneiric Horizons, Tropes, Octaves, Syncopation, Free Direct Discourse, etc., etc., what does it all mean? As the picture above would indicate, my head has been buried in books since the beginning of the year, and as the picture below might indicate, the demise I may someday meet with is all too clear.


Final Destination

I almost feel guilty writing instead of memorizing how the nature of Serotonin levels released in my brain will affect my mood, as I should learn for the Psych exam, but I might begin to feel just as guilty for not keeping the updates flowing around the internets. Fact is, I’ve got the X-Files playing while I write and I’ve got the cool air blowing in from the window; I’ve got more work than I can shake a stick at (anyone know just what that’s supposed to mean?), and I’ve got a date with sleep scheduled for sometime coming within the next 24hrs.

Life is walking on a balancing beam over hot lava for me: one wrong move, and I’m through. I see plenty of people hurting, looking for jobs, and so I’ve got to stay ahead of the game while being thankful I actually have what I have: my floor mat is looking pretty darn slick at the moment.

What I have written in my notes is the employment link for students, a link I will be accessing very soon. Getting things done in my life follows a process, so when a task needs to be done, it falls into the “to do” section of my brain. Once there, only a variable amount of time will pass before the need to perform the task will fester, until said task gets done. Thus, my schedule is about to be compacted even tighter, which is good, because I will have less time to think about the things I wish I had in my life right now. I think a prescription for Valium is in due order as well.

The classes themselves are a bit peculiar in that, in one of my English sections, we are being taught by an actual man from England who has become a U.S. citizen for some reason. He’s a reasonable fellow, but I have a terrible time with certain types of people from England, not only because I am legally deaf, and so everything I hear comes in globs of monotonous, bass tones as though I walk with my head submerged in a fishbowl, but also because he’s the English type who speaks his words in rapid succession, so the lectures sound like this, with a rich, London accent: “Okay everyone, so today Iwouldliketodiscussthereasonwhy Gulliver…wastakenandstrappedonabeachbyhundredsoflittle people,” and the words to me sound little more to my ears than the sounds of a rubber ball sputtering around inside a garbage disposal that’s been turned on. He’s funny as heck, however, I just have a hard time trying to understand him. (And so, Londoners who stumble upon this post are more than welcome to take critical jabs at me…I take humor well; this is just the way of the world for me and my atrocious hearing problem is all.)

The music teacher is similar, in a different way. What happens on these UC campuses is that an instructor will have TAs who are pursuing their MAs working for them. Therefore, we’re being taught by a super friendly young man from Bulgaria who can barely speak English, doesn’t know how to teach really, and doesn’t understand me when I ask him questions. Luckily, I possess enough music theory within my academic arsenal that I can follow along without having to listen to him, and help the girl sitting next to me along as well. I suppose the most novel part of this class is conductor training day, where I become one with a group of musical beginners, waving our arms in 4/4 time to the sprightly sounds of “This old man, he played one, he played nick-nack on my thumb…” I’m truly overjoyed by these events, but if I can’t find a job after I graduate, I won’t be to hard-pressed to figure out why. Maybe I should have gone to law school.

That’s the nature of these liberal-arts-type degrees, however, and I’m perfectly happy acquiring one. The career center here is intense and excessively helpful, and what I’m finding is that people hire out of UCD. I have my eye primarily on the MA, and will work toward that end, but I also have my eye on a few publishing companies in San Francisco and New York. Furthermore, international, not-for-profit companies are catching my eye, and I think I like the idea of traveling to some wasted land and getting in on the humanitarian front. What a journal that would be.

And speaking of humanitarian efforts, I think there’s a slight stain on the face of humanity today. I mean, why should it take a terrifying act of nature to finally inspire people to bring real food to children who have been eating mudpies in Haiti for the past who knows how long? Difficult to figure that one out, isn’t it? I grapple with it myself.

I’ve got a mountain to climb, with the world hanging in the balance for me and my precarious situation here, and so off I go into wonderland where the excitement never stops. I can be grateful I didn’t have to eat mudpies for breakfast today, and so this is the prayer I have to go on. If I fire off an application for an international company, and I actually get hired?…who knows, maybe I’ll be on the front lines someday. (That would be one, strange, life detour.)

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