Class drama
Class drama
Thursday, July 13, 2006. 2033 hrs
Months ago I prepared a blog on world politics and shit like that based on several things. The movie Munich, for one, was a big catalyst. Sam Harris' The End of Faith and Caleb Carr's The Lessons of Terror were two others. It ended more an essay than a blog. And I ditched it. Too incendiary. Too personal. Too acrimonious.
Today, I became to an extent, a mouthpiece for anti-establishment voices. Class rep, the voice of the floor. I've always detested being put in the limelight. I've always tried to shy away from too much attention, except maybe when I'm dancing in a club. That's different. That's escapism. In that instant, I'm no longer me, I'm whoever and whatever I want to be in that moment. Flowing water, coming storm, an eagle. Jessica Alba, Shakira. Mata Hari. Whatever. But there I was, a voice for the masses. Because, they say, I am diplomatic. I had a way with words. I could get my point across without sounding too fierce, too harsh. Well, ok. I should have bloody taken up bloody law when offered, shouldn't I? Instead of getting stuck in a crap place now.
The official class rep was too angry and too upset to speak, poor girl. She was shaking with the effort to check her temper. I could identify. When pushed to the very brink, I was like that too. I literally see red. And when requested to represent, I couldn't say no. Because I do believe that the voice of the masses should be heard. I believe in the power of the people to move mountains into seas. I believe in freedom to speak freely and to have our rights. And I abhor bullies of every kind. I was there. I know. I hate the feeling. I hate being trampled on like a baby mouse in a stampede. *SQUEAK! SQUEAK!* *SPLAT!* *gone*
It sucks. It was as unsavoury a 'meeting' as it could go. I had a mind to bash someone up. And yes, with 10 fingers full of damned huge-ass rings. And a spiked and studded wrist band. And when it ended, all I felt was drained. All I could do was come back home and sleep. No dinner. Too tired to eat. To drained to think of food. Yet here I am, putting my frustrations on paper, so to speak. Because this is about the only avenue I have to vent my pent up frustration and anger. There's no one home. I am running out of credit to call someone and rant. I am too poor now to go out and get a drink to get pissed drunk, dammit! This is the poor single student life. Welcome to my world.
All I can think of to console myself now is this: That nothing in life worth having comes easy. That everything requires some form of effort. Even to stay motivated. Even to keep the faith. There's only so much I can do to keep from crying. I wonder if I'm too idealistic, if I'm a bloody fool. If life itself is one huge joke, and it's keeping me out of the loop. That at the end of it, it all really isn't worth it at all. Who remembers? Who cares? When dreams come crashing down around me, who shall keep the faith? Who shall hold the pieces together to keep them from falling to pieces? Because what's life when hope dies? When faith's gone?
In The Serenity Prayer: Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Where's serenity when I need her? Courage has failed me, and wisdom has fled my senses. Oh, the drama of it all! The irony!
Today, I became to an extent, a mouthpiece for anti-establishment voices. Class rep, the voice of the floor. I've always detested being put in the limelight. I've always tried to shy away from too much attention, except maybe when I'm dancing in a club. That's different. That's escapism. In that instant, I'm no longer me, I'm whoever and whatever I want to be in that moment. Flowing water, coming storm, an eagle. Jessica Alba, Shakira. Mata Hari. Whatever. But there I was, a voice for the masses. Because, they say, I am diplomatic. I had a way with words. I could get my point across without sounding too fierce, too harsh. Well, ok. I should have bloody taken up bloody law when offered, shouldn't I? Instead of getting stuck in a crap place now.
The official class rep was too angry and too upset to speak, poor girl. She was shaking with the effort to check her temper. I could identify. When pushed to the very brink, I was like that too. I literally see red. And when requested to represent, I couldn't say no. Because I do believe that the voice of the masses should be heard. I believe in the power of the people to move mountains into seas. I believe in freedom to speak freely and to have our rights. And I abhor bullies of every kind. I was there. I know. I hate the feeling. I hate being trampled on like a baby mouse in a stampede. *SQUEAK! SQUEAK!* *SPLAT!* *gone*
It sucks. It was as unsavoury a 'meeting' as it could go. I had a mind to bash someone up. And yes, with 10 fingers full of damned huge-ass rings. And a spiked and studded wrist band. And when it ended, all I felt was drained. All I could do was come back home and sleep. No dinner. Too tired to eat. To drained to think of food. Yet here I am, putting my frustrations on paper, so to speak. Because this is about the only avenue I have to vent my pent up frustration and anger. There's no one home. I am running out of credit to call someone and rant. I am too poor now to go out and get a drink to get pissed drunk, dammit! This is the poor single student life. Welcome to my world.
All I can think of to console myself now is this: That nothing in life worth having comes easy. That everything requires some form of effort. Even to stay motivated. Even to keep the faith. There's only so much I can do to keep from crying. I wonder if I'm too idealistic, if I'm a bloody fool. If life itself is one huge joke, and it's keeping me out of the loop. That at the end of it, it all really isn't worth it at all. Who remembers? Who cares? When dreams come crashing down around me, who shall keep the faith? Who shall hold the pieces together to keep them from falling to pieces? Because what's life when hope dies? When faith's gone?
In The Serenity Prayer: Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Where's serenity when I need her? Courage has failed me, and wisdom has fled my senses. Oh, the drama of it all! The irony!
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