today marks another official beginning for me: that of a *real* college graduate.
i've been posing and parading for a year and a half now, but as of 8:20 pm tonight, it will be official (so long as i don't royally screw up my self-defense practical-- five minutes in a room with 3 different attackers and 15 random attacks to defend that ive learned this semester-- or get below a D on my final anthropology paper (a book review!!!). so, after all that and a little trip to get my transcripts sent to mal-one, i should be able to get my diploma. although, i don't know the real definition of diploma. i always equate it with "very expensive piece of paper". eh. i wish i were canadian. then maybe i wouldn't be so cold now, in o-HI-o.
ah, responsibility. how i loathe it, fear it, crave it. simultaneously.
come january, the resume will be dusted off and the search will begin for a job in pittsburgh. although, i might need to hire a career coach or something because i am not feeling so sure as what i want to do.
perhaps the whole "what color is your parachute?" will help. i want to review that. i've pulled that out for a few non-malonites to see and they've darn near crapped their pants. so many people can't fathom having a portfolio. although i look at it, and i still feel lost as far as what i want to do. i don't know where to begin as far as putting what i love and am passionate about and gifted/talented with into a job-- where do i start looking for that job. i know i'm not alone- conversations had with other alum. at the 24 hour theater festival helped affirm me and edify me as far as me concretely knowing i'm not an island on this one when i felt like it not so long ago.
no (wo)man is an island, right?
how do i play by corporate rules? i've never understood or very much liked them. my sister, the crazy HR person that she is, is so definitive. watching inside the actor's studio with michael j. fox not so long ago, i fell in love with alex p. keeton all over again. he said something about never being interested in math, in absolutes. something about 2 plus 2 would always equal 4, so what was the fun of that? what was the discovery in that? whereas in english, in writing, in performing, in creating-- there was always something new...some new way to tell the same stories. (if, in fact, the 39 (?) story theory is correct). always something to discover. and i know, you never really stop learning, no matter what you're doing. but how much do i really want to learn about banking? the pay is decent, the healthcare is amazing-- but i don't really care if the cash advance machine is balanced at the end of the night, and i don't really care if my tickets are all the same size and i get too stressed out about making sure my drawer is balanced, my checks are balanced, everything is labeled and signed and initialed the proper way. it's not worth the stress, the stomach ache. and i still need to work on that perpetual people pleaser thing. so little faith in the one true Giver of all, so little faith.
this entry is too long. if you've not skimmed, i am flattered that you've taken time out of your busy holiday schedule to read my rantings about my trivial life.
right now, i'd like to go to grad. school in a couple of years. in a couple of years, who knows if i'll still want to go to grad. school?
my mind fills with what-if's and drowns out the blessings of right now. i used to be so damn good at living in the moment that i would forget about really planning for the tomorrows-- now i'm so busy worrying about tomorrow that i forget what needs to be done today, what needs to be enjoyed, suffered through, cared for, finished, started.
saw rent, like so many other bloggers out there. cried like a baby through the majority of it, the kind of crying that swells up inside your body and explodes in heaving sobs through your chest and you have to gulp down air so as not to drown in the beautiful sweet pain of realizations and remembrances. i held it in, though. big alligator tears streamed down my face, soaked my scarf, and i took deep controlled breaths to avoid any sobbing noise to emit from my being. i saw it with my friend, tony-- a bigger, kinda scary looking dude who has a shaved head and deep piercing eyes. he cried too. he held it in, just like i did. in a theater filled with mostly theater people (all dressed the same trying-to-be-unique way).
why do we hold things like this in? children don't. the moment a child is hurt, in any way, there is not a moment to question it before the tears spill like offerings and keening begins. but here in america we are taught not to cry, not to take things so personally. doesn't that (at least partially) take empathy out the of the equation? doesn't that negate the power of relationships, even relationships of passing aquaintance?
and here i go on another rant about community.
well, i'll stop there for now. and i'll finish the paper that i am so diligently procrastinating on right now.
it's a wonderful life.