Of the Different Modes of Acquiring the Non-Understanding of Things, or One Girl's Touching Journey Into Cynicism and Misanthropy
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Let's get one thing straight ladies and gentlemen. This girl really really likes having time to herself. (To clarify - we are not speaking of the euphemism for masturbation here. I don't plan on blogging about masturbation and I'm sorry if you are disappointed by that fact. Perv!)
What I'm talking about is some good old-fashioned time alone to fancy, folly, and flitter away the hours enjoying only the demands of one's own company.
I think school did this to me. I like about 1.7% of the people at my school. For the rest, I'm pretty indifferent unless I have the fleeting thought that they are loud, obnoxious, and could do with eating a little humble pie and/or being exposed to hazardous chemicals.
Most of the time, though, I don't care because the majority of law students are encapsulated in a world of pure self-grandeur which unfortunately has been largely vindicated by the world, and promises to only get freakier as time goes on. Which is a funny thing to observe. I become an unwilling eavesdropper on many inane conversations such as:
1. Talk about baseball by boys who look like they could never pick up a baseball bat themselves or stop me if I tried to beat them to death with one;
2. Talk about how steep the curve is, which shows that it isn't steep enough because there are still people out there lame enough to believe that grading in law school isn't pretty much arbitrary;
3. Talk about how hard you are not working, which doesn't quite veil the fact you are actually working hard at making your hard work look effortless so everyone can assume you are a genius when you know very well that you are not;
4. Talk about how hard you ARE working - which just makes you tiresome (sadly, guilty);
5. Talk about American Idol or Top Model (unless made with irony or including the statement "I don't watch that crap.");
6. Talk about the random celebrity you met in a major city whose temporary ride on shallow fame might have rubbed off on you for the five seconds it took you to relate that pointless anecdote;
7. Talk about hair (also guilty, but working on it);
8. Talk about where you were on September 11th (for many in my class, that would be "in diapers");
9. Talk about your exotic vacation plans that goes beyond the fact that you will thankfully be very far away from me.
Some would call this anti-social. I call it Confucianism : as in, I only give a shit about you if I like you. Otherwise, I'd appreciate it if you lowered your voice because I don't care, I don't think you're important, and I do my best to stay out of your way. So please return the favor. Especially you, white yuppy guy on a cell phone at Mona's Cafe where I am trying to study Securities Regulations.
My one guaranteed zen moment of walking my dogs every day is my time to refocus and start trying to like people and not blog these crazy unforgiving things. And that is not possible if I am accompanied by a drunk neighbor who chatters aimlessly on, steals flowers from people's yards, and slows me down because she is in heels.
Also, if you keep trying to friend me on facebook and I keep ignoring you, you might want to get the point and stop trying. I have not let you into my club - and the membership is currently full.
All day I have incessant chatter. Sometimes, all I want is infinite silence.
Maybe the key to calm is simply always wearing earplugs. Or moving to a galaxy far far away.
Crunching conundrums, blasting boredom, eliciting criticism, languishing while laughing, blaming poetry (and/or the lack of) for all of my choices, leaving it to the stars or the people better equipped to handle it, cackling at catastrophe and saying sayanora to sourpusses and sore losers