Gifts to be used, not wasted; and other media nuggets

[fredericks]

I'm on the computer in the attic, the preferred porn watching/jacking-off site of young males in my household. When I passed by the attic doorway on the way to my room, I heard lots of frantic clicking up here. I knew my youngest brother was there, I knew I wanted to use the PC, and I knew I couldn't stomach another porn run-in. I started up the stairs, stepping heavily, so he knew it was me. Then I commandeered the computer from him, and erased all the stuff he downloaded/was downloading from Kazaa Lite. I figure I can order him around for at least an hour or so before he can live down the guilt. I already got him to put my clothes in the dryer for me. I'm still wiggy about using this keyboard and mouse, though.

Started reading Octavia E. Butler's Parable of the Talents on Tuesday, after years of seeing it in the library and never getting around to picking it up. The reading is easy, something that's entirely too rare in serial sci-fi, so I took to it quickly. As can be gathered from the title of the book the New Testament parable of the talents features, at least at the beginning of the book. The parable basically preaches that God (input whatever divinity you want if you're not Christian/Muslim/Jewish...or nature, if you're anything else..just go with me here) gives you certain skills, and it's up to you to use them, not just sit on them. And I feel like all of my talents are going to pot. Jo always urged me to go to medical school (Lord, when's the last time I talked to her, anyway?), and I hedged and hawed, partly afraid that I wouldn't measure up, mostly certain that my lackadaisical studying during college would prevent me from getting into any school worth a damn. But I never tried. Meanwhile, she's gone nonstop through school, has a Masters in Business Admin, and is looking to go to law school. She's using her skills, however much she used to doubt herself in the past, and she's going somewhere. I'm stuck here with dreams of nursing school in the future, when I could have been doing that shit NOW. And I sit around my house like a bump on a log, working at a dead-end job while I get ready to start the school rat-race all over again. My brain dies a slow death, and I realize this while I withdraw from anyone worth conversing with. I'm wasting all I've been gifted with, and I'm too scared to look at the fallout and try to repair the damage. Pick up the pieces, if you will.

And that made no sense at all.

Heading into Hunter this afternoon to see if they have any on-campus jobs posted up in Career Services. Anything's better than Radioshack, and it'd be nice to find something that I could schedule around classes without having to take a subway ride to and from into consideration. I'm also going to call about taking that damned Math Placement test...fuck it, let me call them up now.

...

'Kay. I figure I'll take the test two weeks from yesterday, hopefully giving me enough time to review and remember everything I learned during the last two years of HS.

Oh yeah! I went by my aunt's house yesterday, the one with On-Demand, and I managed to catch the most recent episode of Six Feet Under. I'm such a David, and that's not wistful thinking just because Keith is smokin'. I run around all "I'm fine, I'm okay", even when I'm not. Really not in touch with my emotions, as the case may be.

I swear that wasn't a thinly veiled excuse to shout out my SFU love. It just struck me while I was watching the show. A little more profound when you're watching David's veneer crack, though. And realize how patient Keith is with him nowadays. It's nice to have someone willing to tolerate you.

I took a rather gnarly picture while waiting for the train at 33rd and Rawson on Tuesday, but it's ginormous. Once I can resize it successfully I'll put it up here.

Alright, now it's off to Hunter, roughly an hour and a half after I planned to leave.

Comments

[aniseastra.livejournal.com]

Perhaps you should get one of those plastic keyboard covers, you know, the kind that people use to protect the workings from spills and dust. You could also bring your own chair...I don't think that I'd want to sit in the same one your brothers do when they look at porn. I don't know what to do about the mouse, though, aside from wearing latex gloves or something like that...

On a more serious note, if I were you, I wouldn't worry about not living up to my potential so much. I'm sure that if the jobs were out there, you could get something other than a McJob, but the economy is still bad, despite what we're being told in the media. Besides, though I can't claim an unbiased view on this due to my experiences, education beyond undergraduate isn't such a great thing, anyway. It doesn't open very many doors...most of the jobs that require a master's or higher also require several years of job experience as well (at least of what I've seen), and by the time that you get the higher degree, you would probably have gotten several raises in the time you took to get your degree had you gone into the working world instead. (Of course, this assumes that you can get a real job...)

Anyway, I've confused myself with my run-on sentences, so this is probably a good place to stop...

A sneeze-guard, only for...not sneeze

[fredericks.livejournal.com]

That keyboard idea is great. I didn't think of it at all, thank you!. And it's not subtle in the least, so it'd keep my brothers feeling guilty as sin. Gnarly!

Think what I'll do is carry alcohol and swabs with me everytime I go to use the PC.

And I do realize that the economy is bad and that's part of the reason I'm working at Radioshack. I also realize I had a hard time finding entry-level psych research job because they all usually call for prior experience, and how can you have prior experience if you're looking into an entry-level job? but my anger, in part, stems for the reality that I usually threw up my hands and admitted defeat instead of getting out there and looking for something more. And that I was willing to accept the crap job that allowed me to mindlessly wander around and *not think*, something I have a habit of doing instead of putting effort into changing my situation. Complacency is my demon and vice (If I did have a Masters in Psych, I'd be able to work at least as a Social Worker for the City, which, while not a plush job, is still better than what I'm doing now). I'm hoping to nip that in the bud now, but it's hard to change 24 years of habit, especially if the people that surround you are guilty of the same thing. It's part of the reason why I'm looking forward to moving out of here, although certainly not the only one.

And, lastly but not leastly, *hugs*. Your comments always bring a smile to my face. *grin*

Re: A sneeze-guard, only for...not sneeze

[aniseastra.livejournal.com]

Alcohol swabs! If you do that, your brothers may never look at porn on that computer again! ...Well, knowing boys that age, probably not. If you can, you should combine it with latex gloves at least once to really turn up the shame.

Here's a hug in return: *glomp* *hug* I'm glad that my half-baked words give you happiness...