It's 3:05 in the rainy morning; nearing the end of my last winter in Boston. And as per usual, I cannot sleep, I have a pile of mails, emails and messages to reply, and I'm hormonal. Also, all the plants in my house died, and the only ones that I now have are my vegetables in the refrigerator. (This is a terrible plight to be in, but I'm okay.)
As the seasons change, so do the thoughts that repeat through my head. Last fall, I thought a lot about the OECD, studying in the library, running, Bangladesh, salad lunch boxes, coffee, and vacuuming. This winter, I'm thinking a lot more about sleep, making it in time for classes, naps, unemployment, being bloated, escaping to India, watching the Kardashians on E!, and junk food. I wish I thought about more productive things, but truly, this is what replays in my head like a very boring retro vinyl record.
The end result of scrutinizing my hugeass agglomeration of contemplations and introspection has left me nothing, but entirely confused. I am as good as the bum by the corner of Commonwealth Ave and Beacon Street, huddling to keep warm and make it through winter, alive. In fact, I should go over and say hi tomorrow. We could even be best friends.
School has taught me much about the world- about others' past mistakes, the financial market, pseudo economic models, rationale, and a lot of stories (which I like, and can't remember much of). I've been viewing objects through a glass panel, watching things go by, laughing at their folly, and forgetting that I'm actually part of them too. I am a part of this world, but I just don't know how to be in it. I don't know what to do that will ever satisfy the deepest, most secret desires of my unconscious self—
School never taught me that. I don't think anyone can.
And I am in deep shit.
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