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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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{ Author's note : I was majorly depressed when I typed this into a local }
{ BBS. It sucks from an English point of view, but it got my emotions }
{ across well enough. For the concerned reader (yeah right) I am feeling}
{ much better now, and without medication even. }
Depression, the Future, and Me.
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Hmm, now that I have to prepare for going off to college, barring
that I not be accepted, I have started thinking about the rest of my life,
specifically, a career.
And I don't want to. I mean, a job is fine. I've had a few, and I
liked them, but a real career? I don't think I could handle it. I have
enough trouble with school, and the day to day monotony. At least school has
summers and major holidays off. A career.
Fucking going to work every day, doing the same thing over and over,
again and again. How long is my life going to be? At a minimum 40 to 45
years. I can't bear the thought that I will go to college and spend money
that neither my family or I has or will be likely to get soon, just so I can
be qualified for a job that will burn me out in about 10 years or less.
The future is a grim thing for me. To me the future is like a death
sentence hanging over my head, and the only crime I ever committed is being
born into a world of increasingly specialized fields. You can't even go from
one good job to another without the time and money to get a brand new
education. Damn.
One damn word, all hard edged and sharp, like a shot bouncing off a
wall into your head. KA-REER. Nothing to do about it but sit and rot.
Of course, what are the options I have? Getting a good job, working
9-5 five days a week. Sure, I could do that until I am middle aged and then
just eat a gun over the keyboard I chained myself to. Blow my brains into
the spreadsheet for a major project that my job would depend on.
Or I could accept the work, and live for the goods. Shut off all of
the idealism and be a fucking YUPPIE. Turn off all the depression and own
a new damn BMW every three years for me and my dumpy wife and dumpy kids to
drive around in.
Of course, that won't work. I can't be a 9-5 person. I chafe at any
type of firm pattern or schedule. I need more danger in my life than a system
crash at work. More challenge than learning the new company software. More
to fear than being fired.
Depressingly enough, I can't do the wandering handyman routine either.
There isn't much quality of life there. Sitting around doing odd jobs and
slowly dying with no major accomplishments.
I think it is called a grind because it grinds you down into grease
for the corporate wheels. Grist for the world mill.
So, what comes next? Do I keep looking over that next hill? Trying
to be happy until I want to choke with joy. I suppose I could keep wandering
and trying to find just the right thing. That might be cool. Maybe I could
get a folk song written about me.
It just all looks black and depressing to me.
I dunno.
-fastjack
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= Questions, comments, bitches, ideas, etc : z1max@ttuvm1.ttu.edu :FUCK =
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