Tuesday, June 17, 2003
It is June 17, and all the kiddies, from nursery to high schools, have been on summer break for 5 days now. I saw them on the street, in parks, in stores these last few days, in careless summer garb (ranging from frilly white dresses with blue hems and red ribbons to Che Guevara t-shirts and ample amounts of Kohl), and I felt somewhat jealous.
Deplorably, the wonder of summer breaks is now shut out from me, and will probably continue to be so for the rest of my life. It is not a question of physical limitations, of having actual summer breaks (if I become a teacher I will enjoy them every year); it is, fundamentally, a question of mindframe. When I was a kid, up until the 12th grade, I pretty much had no responsibilities other than doing well in school. I usually did very well, so the end of each school year was a combination of the satisfaction derived from a job well done and the bliss generated by the temporary cease of all responsibilities.
I wouldn't say that going on summer break was like "graduating, every year". Graduation sucked ass. I never had one graduation (I've had a total of two, so far: junior high and high school) that was not clouded by the prospect of an impending big exam. At the same time, my graduation years were my worst, academically speaking. Both in 8th and in 12th grade I only ranked 4th in my class (do not laugh! I usually was the first). Also, graduating meant separating from a group of people I had grown to know well, and preparing for meeting with a new group -- an activity that I have never been able to envisage with anticipation.
So no. Not graduation. More like... a nice cold soda on a hot day, a good night's sleep after a long lapse of insomnia, a decent meal after 12 hours on the plane. That's what summer break was to me. I was happy, animal happy. I had nothing to care for other than my own pleasure. I could sleep late, wake up and watch TV and read White Fang and the Three Musketeers over and over again. No homework. No worrying about upsetting Mum by occasionally getting grades lower than 10. No having to feed my uneaten sandwich to the stray dogs in the schoolyard so that I wouldn't have to eat it. Just my own pleasure.
In a way, it's almost fortunate that I didn't have any real, close friends at the time (I had some girlfriends in highschool, but we only met an approximate 5 times per summer holiday, so that was not a great deal). They would have maybe spoilt the beauty of my blissful, hedonistic solitude.
Now, that's all history. I have friends. I have my own place. I have a job. I have my independence. Yeah, it sucks ass.
Deplorably, the wonder of summer breaks is now shut out from me, and will probably continue to be so for the rest of my life. It is not a question of physical limitations, of having actual summer breaks (if I become a teacher I will enjoy them every year); it is, fundamentally, a question of mindframe. When I was a kid, up until the 12th grade, I pretty much had no responsibilities other than doing well in school. I usually did very well, so the end of each school year was a combination of the satisfaction derived from a job well done and the bliss generated by the temporary cease of all responsibilities.
I wouldn't say that going on summer break was like "graduating, every year". Graduation sucked ass. I never had one graduation (I've had a total of two, so far: junior high and high school) that was not clouded by the prospect of an impending big exam. At the same time, my graduation years were my worst, academically speaking. Both in 8th and in 12th grade I only ranked 4th in my class (do not laugh! I usually was the first). Also, graduating meant separating from a group of people I had grown to know well, and preparing for meeting with a new group -- an activity that I have never been able to envisage with anticipation.
So no. Not graduation. More like... a nice cold soda on a hot day, a good night's sleep after a long lapse of insomnia, a decent meal after 12 hours on the plane. That's what summer break was to me. I was happy, animal happy. I had nothing to care for other than my own pleasure. I could sleep late, wake up and watch TV and read White Fang and the Three Musketeers over and over again. No homework. No worrying about upsetting Mum by occasionally getting grades lower than 10. No having to feed my uneaten sandwich to the stray dogs in the schoolyard so that I wouldn't have to eat it. Just my own pleasure.
In a way, it's almost fortunate that I didn't have any real, close friends at the time (I had some girlfriends in highschool, but we only met an approximate 5 times per summer holiday, so that was not a great deal). They would have maybe spoilt the beauty of my blissful, hedonistic solitude.
Now, that's all history. I have friends. I have my own place. I have a job. I have my independence. Yeah, it sucks ass.
Monday, June 16, 2003
Still no internet access at home. I'm missing it mostly for email all the time, anytime, my mags, my weblog and my porn. At the same time though, I am experiencing a lapse of healthy(er) living. No internet means no 8-hours-a-day-staring-at-the-screen. I get to read a bit, go out more, play with Rivkeh, etc. But it's gotta stop. Healthy living can only get one so far!
Writing is definitely the most affected of the occupations listed above. I can do email in other places, I can read my mags in internet cafes and I can do without porn. But writing is location and time-sensitive, dude! If I become inspired in the vicinity of 10 PM, I need to be in front of my computer quickly and bring those ideas to life! My blog is high-quality mental masturbation: it makes me feel good, gives me a sense of purpose. I've been missing that over the past few weeks. I gotta fix my machine.
Writing is definitely the most affected of the occupations listed above. I can do email in other places, I can read my mags in internet cafes and I can do without porn. But writing is location and time-sensitive, dude! If I become inspired in the vicinity of 10 PM, I need to be in front of my computer quickly and bring those ideas to life! My blog is high-quality mental masturbation: it makes me feel good, gives me a sense of purpose. I've been missing that over the past few weeks. I gotta fix my machine.
