I had a week of good old fashioned holiday with no worry, no (hard) work and lots of books books books. I kind of miss the sea part of summer holiday a little but you can't have it all, can you. I miss the sun a lot with al this clouds above us, but you can't have it all. Or can you?
Anyway, by the end of the week I finished reading 'Tis from Frank McCourt and by the end of the book the good part of the holiday was gone. I was bored with no worries on my mind for such a long time and there it was, What the fuck are you doing with you life?! runing back and forth in my head again.
I'm at nearly exactly the same point as most of my closest friends were when they were close to finishing schooling. I was very good at school through all these years. Now, having only two little steps to get to the finish, it seems like I tripped over my own foot, just like that other time when I was the fourth runner at torch run, tripped at the last moment and ended up litteraly flying to the finish line. The one funny part of it was how my friends thought I was doing it to win the team a better position ... I guess the funny part now would be how others think I'm running so damn well with all the opportunities waiting for me.
Yet, to me it's almost painful, I really don't want to finish with school, just as much as I'm terrified only thinking of continuing, getting a higher degree, sitting in the class again listening to professors' theory about how they're the one and only god of whatever they're teaching. On the other hand, 8-4 work in an office sitting behind a computer, starting now and until I turn half blind sounds just as scary. Is there realy nothing more I can do with my life? Oh but there is, there's plenty of choices, none of them an easy one though ... Could I even deal with the tough choices? I can't even get my whole family to fight dad's alcoholism together.
I'd say McCourt wasn't the best reading for me at the moment, facing me even harder with the cyclic life of an addicted soul. His direct writing felt good anyways, it felt so close, as if an AA member would be telling me his story with the only purpose to share it with me so I know that I'm not alone in the fight.
'This leads to an argument where I tell her I know my father drank too much and abandoned us but he's my father, not hers, and she'll never understand how it was when he didn't drink, mornings I had with him by the fire, listening to his talk about Ireland's noble past and Ireland's great sufferings.'
He's my dad, he won't be erased from my life but I have to move on on my own now, carefully making the choice that will be best for my own future. He didn't teach me how to make the right decisions maybe and I thought for long that he was at least the role model of the life I have to avoid, something I have to run from for any price. Running away doesn't sound like a rational thing to do either any more now.
Afterall ... 'isn't this the country where all things are possible, where you can do anything you like as long as you stop complaining and get off your ass because life, pal, is not a free lunch.'
In the end, I just want to have a good strong sleep and wake up with a feeling that I (can) do something. Move the mountains. One at a time. That's all.
Only I can't seem to find anyone who'd kick my ass off the comfy seat of our modern education process.
No comments:
Post a Comment