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Quitting, part deux
14:15:00 on 1999-10-19
I was having this strange dream last night about being in school with Brendan Frasier, all three of the Lone Gunmen from "The X-Files" and half my old gaming group that I wrote about a while back. (Why am I dreaming about these people?)
We were in some Big, Overpriced, Overstuffed University taking a course in finance or investment. The instructor brought in a lot of consultants and speakers to help us with a case study. They keep asking everybody except me questions, and I knew it was because I wasn't actually supposed to be in this class, or even in this university. So they smiled at me politely and included everybody else, and kept on about their business, asking them questions that were extremely complicated gobbledygook (as far as I'm concerned, anyway) and so forth.
As class started to wrap up, a teaching assistant came around with bills for everyone to pay for the consultants and speakers. Mine came out to (if I remember correctly) $24,768.68. For one day.
The rest of the dream consisted of walking around the student union (which seemed to have the same architectural style as a Builders' Square superstore) trying to find somebody to cancel this crazy bill. I was telling everybody that I was in the class because I was put there, I didn't agree to pay a bunch of extra money for consultants, and asking them if they thought it was a little strange that tuition there was $45,000 a year, but for one day's class my added expense was over half that.
Nobody seemed to care.
[shrug] At least I woke up. I wish I could wake up from all of this.
The brain is a remarkable instrument. About 24 hours ago I was feeling on top of everything. Today I feel like I'm pinned under the front wheel of a Mack truck. I have one of the massive headaches that tend to come to me with complete mood conversion.
I woke up thinking about yesterday, and what I wrote last night, and how I am extremely unnecessary in everyone's life. Everybody has somebody or something in their life that they want. Everybody except me, that is. It seems like I'm more of a nuisance to people than I am anything else; all I do is make people miserable or pull them way from something else because they have some sort of misguided loyalty or feel sorry for me.
I feel sorry enough for myself, thanks.
I am seriously contemplating crawling under my rock and not coming back out, just giving everything and everybody a miss. I am starting to wonder if the last several months has just been a mistake that should have never happened, if I should have just gone to whatever eventual outcome I was approaching instead of reaching out.
Nothing makes a whole lot of sense right now.
(So much for making my way to that happier place, 'eh?)
Ancient history:2013-03-01 "You'll be stone dead in a moment!" 2007-08-07 I covet fuck you money 2007-07-16 My own long, dark tea-time of the soul 2007-07-11 My internet experience is lacking 2007-07-10 Coincidence
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