Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The Bulletin Board
It is the beginning of a new week and a new month has likewise commenced. People gather around the bulletin board to refresh the announcements and cries of help by the university's departments and fellow students. The posters depicting abusive and obsessive partners and the signs to look for in a possibly bad relationship are gradually being pulled off the cork--much to my amusement. Typically, awareness posters give me the giggles rather than do their job. Study abroad programs for the followings semesters are posted. I will never be able to afford such a thing. However, part of me is content with this fact: I would rather not spend $5,000 to go to Ireland, only to stare at rocks and analyze the cleavage of Ireland's most famous rolling hills. Students in need of someone to pay half of their rent, will advertise for anyone. I am rather cautious of letting complete strangers into my dwelling. I am even more cautious of walking into a stranger's dwelling in hopes of taking up residence with them. Living in a dorm with someone I do not know is enough. I would rather not invite myself into the same situation and pay $500 a month for whatever lessons I might learn in why not to rip off a small tab of information from random flyers.
"Would you want to split a house with me and Christina next year?" Eric asked.
I declined; I would rather not share the rent with a couple. Not only would I be stuck trying to sleep through a few not-so-silent and awfully awkward nights, but the future is often times bleak and unpredictable. If I get slammed with more rent than the agreement because of some unfortunately timed argument, I would rather not be found huddled in a dark corner of the house during all the screaming, cuddling my tattered wallet and reassuring it therapy will come soon. I may seem picky, but when it comes to finding a play to stay, and I do mean "stay," I would like to find something more suitably stable. These times are hard enough without having the floor ripped out from underneath me at any moment.
"There they go again," a passing student said, staring down the dark end of the hall.
A swarm of students came up to the board, ripping off their old flyers and putting up new ones, with florescent colors and large font. The blonde holding the bright pink sheets of paper blinded me. The paper did not have any constructive information on it, much to my injured eyes' dismay. More useless sheets of paper with people trying to sell textbooks for lunch money, and new programs not pertaining to the English department, though it is the English hall. I can honestly say I hate these days. While these students and teachers do not seem to be advertising for anything too important, they still have something to say, whereas, I am sitting on a bench, watching them all pass by without so much as a remark to be made.
There are days when I feel as if I am just spending my time and money sitting on a bench, going from class-to-class, zoning in and out of lectures, walking several miles-worth up and down the pedestrian mall. There are only so many times throughout the week I feel as if I am doing anything which can be, even in the slightest bit, and possibly with the assistance of a microscope, construed as productive. And in those times I wonder: What am I doing here? I know what my goals are, but fighting for them every week seems like more than its worth at times. Maybe I should post a bulletin up one day: "Girl in search of motivation." I have inspiration, I just do not have the will power to use it, like I know I should.