24 June 2009

[Imported] I like to pretend it will all just sort itself out

I think I've become a master at living in the present. For one, I've completely pushed the thought of school so far back in the hidden crevices of my mind that they're surrounded by the thoughts of Christmas presents.

Everyone get that joke? Yeah? Good. Moving on.

I'm not thinking about where I want to go, how I'm going to pay for it, what I want to do - I'm completely convincing myself that school just DOES NOT EXIST RIGHT NOW. And because I've decided to just ignore the thought of school completely, I've just been humming merrily through life and grinning with bliss. But I'm speaking more figuratively here than literally, because I'm not one to actually be "merry" or be anything remotely close to "blissful." I do indeed grin, though, but it's usually accompanied by scheme-y fingers. I'll let you work that image out for yourself.

Let me make it clear that I realize this is just about the dumbest way to handle my future and my education. I've had enough education in my life to be fully aware of this fact. However, when I DO think about school and career choices and all of my choices I've made in the past, my right eye starts twitching, my head makes a complete 360 degree turn, and I start having visions of what my arms would look like with two large gashes running down them. These aren't particularly "pleasant" sensations, and I find that ignoring the whole situation, at the very least, allows me to see yet another day. That's what I call a Very Good Thing.

I guess this is just the way I handle things. I just sweep all my problems under the rug until it looks like an elephant is playing hide and seek in the living room. And then the elephant explodes* and I got a big ol' mess that I have no choice clean up. Now, maybe you've noticed, maybe you haven't, but I'm not exactly a warm, cottony-soft, open-to-the-world kind of person. I imagine that trying to hug me is a lot like trying to hug a mannequin - slightly embarrassing for you and completely one-sided. And you know that awful pain you get when you hit your funny bone? When people try to get me to talk about how my "emotions" or "feelings" (man, I'm really going to town tonight with all these quotations, eh?), I get that same funny-bone ache IN MY BRAIN. You want me to talk about how I feel? Well, I WANT TO JAM TOOTHPICKS UNDERNEATH MY TOENAILS.

The thing is, I'm a big believer in therapy and talking and everything. This completely contradicts what I just said, since one could easily infer that I hate therapy and talking and everything. The ironic thing is that they are BOTH EQUALLY TRUE. The difference is that I'm not about to go around admitting the former because I'm too busy making my feet look like they each have five cocktail franks at the ends of them (remember? the toothpick thing?), and I'm too busy ignoring everything that's bothering me to actually make the effort to sort it out. So while there could be the slightest chance that I may possibly benefit from a mental health check-up or two, it's not going to happen until someone finds me sitting in my underwear and muttering to myself in the middle of a grocery store.

I'm sure you can see where this is all going. I've got a one-way ticket to a nervous breakdown.

All aboard.

*This is the point at which my sweeping-things-under-the-rug metaphor stopped working

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