In which I reveal the foolish inner workings of my mind...

What does this mean to me, if it becomes real, and not just a figment?

For one, it means that in some strange way I've arrived. When I had gotten the Big Red K job, it was similar. It wasn't that job made me somebody, but that it proved to the rest of the world that I wasn't just talking out my ass, that I had the ammo to back up my talk. It wasn't much, in retrospect, but it was enough for the time.

And this, now? it's proof that I'm not just a waster. It's proof that I'm not just a wannabe like all those other foamtards who talked big about the life they would one day have on the railroad, but that they never actually achieved. People who spend their whole lives bitching about what they don't have and about the opportunities they don't get (but will tomorrow!). Cause really, what's the difference between a loser and a winner? The winner succeeds. That's all. A fine line, huh?

Once it would have been running away, but now it's more running towards. It's my intention to finish school, but it might take me many many many years now rather than having it done next year. But I can't pass this up. Not paying your own bills, being dependent, being poor, being in debt. I can't tolerate that lifestyle much longer. It kills the soul. When S. or B. or any of my friends, really, are around, I live a much better life. Perhaps I eat a tad too much -- the price of entertaining -- but otherwise I am a much less melancholy, much less lazy person. Being busy is a good thing.

But all that aside, I am just a tad being the rebel again. I'm rejecting, I'm saying no. Do you know how many times this weekend I've had to deal with the question of "so how far are you in your schooling" or "what is your major again?" or "what are you going to do when you get out?" What am I, 12? "What do you want to be when you grow up, young man?" It's about like that. Fuck. R., who is ten, deals with less of this crap than I do. And what do I answer? Gee, I don't know? I'm walking away for a railroad job? I can hear the click clicking and the tongue wagging now. Screw that. This is my life dammit. Not everyone lives in your middle-class yuppie June-and-Ward Cleaver go-to-college and get a high paying job in the corporate world bullshit. Life is an adventure and dammit I'm going to live it that way.

This may all be moot, I don't have the job yet and atop that I have an amazing capacity to screw things up when I feel like it. And if I don't get it, it just means back to school again as expected. I'll deal, I'll survive. I won't say I won't be disappointed but it won't eternally break my heart either.

But if I get it.... if I get it... if I get it, it means I've proved to myself -- fuck the World, to MYSELF -- that I'm not just a cockup. That I'm made of sterner stuff than some have given me credit for. Label this all you will. Insecurity. Too much concern for others opinions. A chip on my shoulder. Fine. Call it what you like, but it's me. let he who is without foolishness cast the first smart remark.