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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Greetings. I am back. From my summer job, from vacation, and from not being on the Internet much.
I'd forgotten what a great place the Internet is for wasting time. YouTube (songs, song parodies, oranges with goofy faces... oh dear...), news sites with two-page articles and thirty-one-page-long debates, and of course blather. Blather, near and dear to my heart as a concept as well as a particular website. I've certainly posted a lot of nonsense on these pages... nonsense compared to a lot of the eloquence and insight here... since when, five years ago? Something like that. Six, I think.
I quote from a random story on the fanfiction site: "I was slipping in and out of conciseness". That's how I feel.
But the summer. The end of the summer. Classes as of Tuesday, looking for a job as of the past week and half, getting mutually contradictory or at least variant job and school advice as of a few days ago (don't go to grad school in the same place you did your undergrad.... don't go out of province, it's too expensive... get a TESL certificate and teach English in Korea... apply to Creative Writing, that's what you really want to do... writers study literature, they don't do "creative writing"... write a book... write a children's book... work as a waitress, you can get $100 a day in tips). Etc.
Now I am fairly sure what I want to apply to, and this time I will apply to at least five places and (not in each place, but depending what they have) to three different things: grad school in English, grad school in Creative Writing, and undergrad in Music Composition. What I do will depend where I am accepted. Same for part-time jobs for this year. Only I don't want to be a waitress. Not because I'm a snob, but because I'm clumsy and I can't switch from French to English and back fast enough. C'est vrai. Even the idea of little awkward Epitome waiting tables signals Potential Disaster.
It's dull to spell all this out. More fun to describe the quirky and tangible. Like the fact that I have been planning for weeks to obtain long-sleeved pajamas, and suddenly a friend's friend sends me a pile of castoffs, including winter pajamas. But they are pink. With multiple Tinkerbells. Ah well.
My hair is short now. Yesterday I donated a bunch of it to cancer. Yes, to cancer. Cancer now has light brown frizzy hair.
I'm wondering if this counts as volunteering. I have to write two essays on How Nice and How Helpful and How Leadership-ful a Person I Am in order to beg for money from my university. Annoying: they don't let you apply for Work-Study if you're a part-time student, but they do let you apply for bursaries. Logically, to me, it should be the other way around. Anyway. I've been compiling all the Nice and Smart and Helpful and Leadership-ful things I've done and it looks like a decent list until I:
a) compare it with some of the real volunteering and activist things some of my friends have done
or
b) compare it with my list of the mean and irresponsible things I've done.
Once a teacher posed a question to class I was in, for reasons of rhetoric: "Which one of you has ever lied, just once, on a CV?" The implication being that we all did. But I don't think I've ever actually lied on a CV. I'm just selective. Naturally. But while speaking, I sometimes catch myself lying for no reason. Like saying I've seen a particular movie that I haven't. Or, most recently, sending a message from one person to another: "she says she misses you". Well, no, Person A didn't say she missed person B. Person A merely mentioned B's name.
I'll never be a politician. That I've decided. I'd get caught in lies and inconsistencies too often. Better to be a writer and embrace those kind of random mistakes.
I need an epiphany. While I was cutting my nails this morning I decided it would be fun to be a female drag queen. Pretend to be a guy pretending to be a woman.
I also woke up one night scared because I'd dreamed I'd solve the answer to the universe using math. It was something like 1 equals 1 but 1 doesn't equal infinity.
I was also walking down Maisonneuve street past a shopping mall and I decided that red Doc Martens and Schoenberg go well together somehow.
Hm. I need better epiphanies.
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