I need a hobby.

I need a hobby. I used to think so because I was so gosh-darn bored with my life: Since being out of school, working 16 hours a week brought me close to no fulfillment. What the hell did I do with my time? I need to feel useful. This is part of the reason why I’m antsy to start school in the fall. Well, I got my raise and more hours at work. Putting in a 32-hour workweek, I realized again that I need a hobby. An activity to help keep my head up. Something to look forward to on a regular basis. Anything.

Yoga? I stopped going after two or three classes. Hmm. I used to write. Maybe I should pick up a new Moleskine and pretend to be pensive (I probably filled in ten pages in the last one, and I can’t locate it at the moment). I used to care about music, right? Putting three years of my life into KUCI must have meant something. It mattered to me which artist came out with which album during which Tuesday. At the moment, I’ve been harboring a list of albums to acquire since probably the end of last year. What? Metric came out with a new album years ago? I’ve decided that I’m too lazy to keep up.

It was suggested that I take a course at the local community college. Great idea, but it’s too bad that the enrollment window closed ages ago for the summer sessions. What about cinematography? I took a class on Danish cinema before, and I loved it. What scares me now is that I’m unable to take classes (read: time constraints!) that interest me. I’m stuck with social welfare forever. After the two years of school, I’ll (hopefully) be working too hard to care about anything else. Well, let’s hope not.

A friend and I tried to take up knitting once. We Google’d “how to cast-on” and I gave up ten minutes into it. I couldn’t even start to knit. It was too bunchy for me. And then someone else suggested that I pick up some art supplies and start an art project. I was in several art classes in high school and playing with charcoal and pastels yielded some neat results. Forget it, nothing’s ever going to come of it.

And I’m afraid of picking up Theo’s DSLR for fear that I won’t be able to figure out the different terminology and controls. How the hell was I photo editor of my high school paper, then? I think my problem here is that I don’t have the passion…?

Oh man, I need a hobby. Why can’t I build toothpick houses or start biking? I lose interest too quickly, too. Sadly, I can’t remember the last time I finished a book that I truly enjoyed. I’ve been telling myself to pick up a paint-by-number since years ago. I think it’s time to take myself up on that offer. A hobby for 5-year olds, you may think. Have you seen them? They can get pretty intricate!

Back into the grind

A student of mine from last summer emailed me, asking for any pointers on facilitating a discussion group. I was flattered that he remembered me, much less having asked me for advice. The short exchange took me back to a year ago, when I was prepping to apply for grad school. I was so needlessly stressed. Scrambling at the last minute for letters of recommendation, rearranging the commas and prepositions on my personal statements, forking over hundreds of dollars in application fees, and taking the much-dreaded GRE. All for this coming fall. Let’s hope that it was all worth it. My biggest fear is that social welfare is not what I really wanted to pursue, after all. And then I’d have to do it all over again. I guess I’ll find out in a couple of months. The past year of idleness made me realize more than ever that I NEED to pursue this. I can do more than work a dead-end job that will land me no satisfaction but more and more resentment by the end of each day.

The thought of research and study excites me.

Speaking of which, I have enrolled in my fall quarter classes: Human Development, Community Theory, Social Welfare Policy, Theory of Social Welfare with Individuals, Groups, Families. In addition to being in school twice a day from 8-5, I have an internship every other day from 8-5. Busy. I don’t find out where I get placed until mid-September.

Now I’m stressing over having to move, getting acclimated to a new environment, and being away from Theo for more than days at a time. I got over my hurdles last year, and suffice it to say, I’ll get over these in time.

Ennui

Maybe she is freaking brilliant. Every time I read her blog, the thought crosses my mind. Wow, to be able to write like that. In order to do that, though, I should probably write something. Hello, writer’s block, for the gazillionth time. I feel empty. There are a number things that I should be looking forward to, but mostly I’m just scared.

It’s Friday night, I’m sitting at my parents’ house, and I don’t even have the option of turning social obligations down anymore. It’s okay though – I’d rather much stay in, anyway.

Best week ever.

“That post from the summer.. when you said you had a crush. Was that about me?”

[pause, embarrassment] “…yes. Why?”

“If only you knew how I feel right now.”

There is hope

Well, I’ve somehow managed it. I got into UCLA’s MSW program.

From 2005

“like we want to make our own lives so tragic and then on the inside you’re ordinary just like everybody else and then you’re not so sad anymore because, fuck, you’re just like everyone else.”

amen.

Stuck

I want to say that things have been stagnant, but at the same time, things are happening. I guess it’s what happens when you graduate and you have no clear direction. You start planning your next day, week, month. Or not. What’s there to plan? There’s no one to hold your hand, to tell you which classes you have to take before you finish so-and-so requirements. There’s no one to tell you that you have to complete this research and internship if you want to get ahead. You either land a job or you don’t. Apply to graduate school or not. You’re simply existing amongst everybody else who are going through, more or less, the same motions.

I’m way overdue in my synopsis on the previous year. It all so quickly blends together; I could very well say that nothing significant happened. But that’s a blatant lie. I’ve met significant people who are sure to stay with me forever. I’ve had people who believed I was significant enough for a visit from far away. I’ve kept more friends that I’m able to count on, albeit they’re more than hundreds of miles away. And I still owe quite a few phone calls.

I miss writing. I still crave the simple life. Things are always better when you look back. I’ve always been a dweller. A nostalgic. She asked me how I was able to stay so strong, and my reply was (and always will be), “Well, you can only count on yourself.” This is all so convoluted and capricious and it makes no sense.

I’m going to start collecting my dreams again.

Overdue.

I need to visit Katy.

Hm.

This clearly did not work out.

Conclusion:

It’s impossible to clean my room. Someone needs to go in there and throw all that shit away.