Recovery Efforts

"Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
-Dr. Martin Luther King

These are the famous closing lines of King's most famous speech, "I have a Dream."

I had a dream once, albeit more guilty and self-centered than King's. Dr. King's dream was of racial and social equality, I just dreamed of the day when I would never have to endure another class, another assignment, another semester, month, day, hour, minute of school.

Now it is all over, save the part where I get my degree. CCSU pretty much hustled us across the stage, and while I appreciate the brevity of a ceremony celebrating the simultaneous graduation of 1200 students, something a bit more personal would have been appreciated for all of our collective "effort".

This all feels a little foreign. As much as I hated higher education, I met many of the most interesting people I know because of my connections and participation in college. But I still don't know as much about "life" as I would like to. My new found maturity feels like anything but, and I can't help but be utterly repulsed by the real world more than ever. The real world created the culture of spend and need that put us in this economic pit in the first place, and I wonder why our elected officials seem to think more spending will solve the problem.

Oh well, now at least I have more time to write. Expect much more in the way of musings to come, if you're into that sort of thing...

Reconnoiter

The weekend is over, as is one of three finals. Several days ago I took pictures of the battlefield that lays before me, filled with some four decades of what can only be described as the Cave of the Pack Rat King. My father does not throw away anything that might one day be useful in one way or another. He is also an extremely rushed and busy man, and so sometimes he starts one job before finishing another.

Thus, the third world garage. Honestly, it is a lot more cover than the delapitated porch above which has since been fixed...kind of. So considering my dad did most of the work by himself, I can't complain. In fact, it is one reason why I am embarking on this righteous war of good riddance. My dad is old, and he has done good by me. This is by no means poorly constructed, just not finished. So its time for the son to carry on the torch.

Under the tarp are all sorts unfinished projects, including a ride-on mower I took rides on as a toddler, a Mercedes engine/anchor from the '60s with a hole in the block. I'm not even sure how I got it anymore. In the background is a washer in three pieces with some kind of concrete toilet seat atop it. Lots of ladders, and an epic arched window leaning against the left hand side of the side door...I think my dad ganked it from a church. Also notice the encroaching flora from both sides, untamed and left to run rampant on the hillside. I have grandiose plans for that whole hill, but that is another post, and many, many stories about landscaping and working with heroine addicts.

It isn't any better on the inside. My car has become buried beneath the clutter, and what was once a half-built garage became another place to store...stuff. If you can't tell, I don't blame you, but this is my mythical '69 Cougar, the car you may have heard of but never actually saw. Life got really interesting in college, and I have a hard time paying attention to anything for extended periods of time. But I will never give up on this car. And before the Clutter War comes to a close, I will have this car better than it has ever been before.


Deeper in and we find the worst of the refuges.
Believe it or not, my father once used this as a workshop, building or repairing things he found on the side of the road, at the dump, or at a job site. Now, it houses, among car parts from several aborted projects, all sorts of broken, half-fixed, and working-yet-useless objects. Like half a chair. Honestly, after staring at this picture for five minutes, I don't have a fucking clue what most of this stuff even is. Theres a television, and a press drill from the fifties, but what the fuck is that white device next to the shelf? Oh, and don't ask what is in all the coffee cans, because I couldn't tell you. There are literally dozens of coffee cans full of nuts, bolts, do-dads, and gizmometers. That is the only description for it, unless you're my dad. He has a system no one else can understand by design, as he is what some might describe as a paranoid right-wing lunatic. He is a good man, just very unmoving in his beliefs.

Anyway, graduation is this weekend, and I have two finals left before I finish school, hopefully forever. But once all that hubbub is over, I am diving in head first. But I also have to enjoy my last week of college, so here is a picture from Tisane's bar last night. Even if there was a restart button to life, I wouldn't touch it, because I could never replicate all the good times that happened to me my first time around.

It's too bad you only live once, but I guess that's the point.

Those precious few final hours

My last day ever as an undergrad, and I skipped my first class today. In fact, I shouldn't be getting out of Earth Science for another 15 minutes, but to hell with it. This is it, the culmination of five years, seemingly endless frustrations, too many nights I can't remember, yadda yadda yadda.

College was kind of a disappointment. I had fun and met a lot of interesting people to be sure, but for whatever reason I kind of expected more. The awful dining hall food didn't help either, but it has been two years since I ate that slop. Maybe I had too high of expectations for college, because none of the shit I saw in movies ever happened there. I've seen some shit that should be in a movie (I'm working on that...) but overall my perception of college is a lot different than what I imagined it was like going in.

It all went by so fast. I guess that is a good and bad thing. Now I just have a few more finals standing in-between me and Freedom.

Before the storm

I'm moving home. I don't want to, I always said I wouldn't, and I can't believe I am, but it has to happen. There isn't much in the way of jobs, and I don't really want to work for anyone else anyway. It never made much sense to me to work hard and make somebody else rich.

So I'm gonna wing it, take a shot at doing life my way, rather than take the easy way for once. I have a lot of wild ideas and projects I want to tackle (anyone who knows me has had to suffer through at least one ridiculous scheme of mine), the first of which will be cleaning out my parents' basement and moving into it. I have about another month or so left in my apartment, so that will be the lead up to this Herculean task. Work has already begun, but there is a lot left to do, and a lot of challenges in the way, not the least of which is how to bond an old concerete pour with a new one. Yup, it's gonna be one of those kinda blogs, and a whole lot more...