Another 6 AM Note...

Just cause i'm up and in the mood and all.

Yeah, it's 6 am, and i'm done bitching about the insurance industry, and back to bitching about myself. So, i'm sitting here listening to LaunchCast Plus, whose subscription should soon run out, and a certain song comes on. Actually, many many songs have come and gone since I began writing. But, this particular song contained the lyric, Players wanna play and ballers wanna ball... I actually think it might be R. Kelly in retrospect. The pied piper of stagetory rape.

But, again, I came to this revalation. Bitches bitch, and that's all i've been doing lately. I'm consistantly angered by something, and vent about it profusely. At the moment, i'm going to bitch about Christmas. Currently, it's December 12th, and i've not bought a damned Christmas present yet. Yeah, if i'm on your gift list, don't get your hopes up about the recieving end. Not only is my license situation making me extremely agoraphobic, where as I won't drive on the highway, but i'm also pretty much broke. Obviously I'm making not making nearly as much money at Lusso as I was at Brisk. I'd like to say i'm happier, but I doubt that's really true either. Welcome back to the binds of perpetual discontent. We're so apt and able at change, yet I let apathy take hold. I don't have a plan, I don't have a goal, i'm living day to day, and slowly striding towards the eventual end. Really not all that cheery and bright an outlook when you consider it. I've been waiting forever for these things to just get better, but... hell, I don't know if I can even find the horizon anymore, let alone that pot of gold.

I'm a realist. The carrot doesn't drive me. I know I don't have the answer, but I feel like I may have a few ideas... I feel college is the right path at the moment. It'd allow me to further my knowledge base, specified towards a career, accredit me accordingly, and widen my social borders. When I say widen my social borders, i mean find a smart attractive young woman who appreciates my abilities and looks past my downfalls.

BUUUUUTTTTTT, of course, here rises the pesimist in me.

I don't have the money. I just don't. I don't make enough to afford it. I don't have the credit score to secure a loan, and i'm of the wrong gender, race, and / or sexual preference for any real scholorship / grant opportunities. Even better, if I did have the money, i'd have to first pay off my outstanding debt accrued from my first year of college. To further that, i'd have to find a college that'd accept me. My lackluster performance in highschool didn't produce the sort of transcripts that'd interest an accredited university, and I can't even remember how i did in lil ol' CCAC. Not to mention that they're not going to release my records with them until they collect their sachel of silver.

So, I wonder what the first step is. I was actually considering contacting as many liberal celebrities as I could think of, and basically begging for money. That idea what short lived, I really don't have the right to make that sort of request of another, simply because they've achieved somewhere along the line.

I was thinking about just going up to CSU on Monday and stopping in, and informing them that i'd like to attend. Basically see where that takes me.

One last story, and then i've really got to find my way to bed.

It was St. Patty's Day, 2000. And, before I got drunk, I had business to attend to. Mind you I was 18, but already a pretty decent drinker. I went up to Duquesne University in good ol' PA, and sat down with the president of their admissions department. I don't remember how I ever chose Duq. or even better how I got to see the president of admissions without an appointment, but I do remember sitting down with her. I was great. I was relaxed, and respectful, and charming, and well spoken, charasmatic and exemplary. She loved me, she was almost hiking up her skirt and bending over her desk, inviting me to join their elite little university. That is until the ghost of academic past reared it's ugly head in the most tangible and perminent manner, through my highschool transcripts. Then the conversation took a turn for the worse. There was talk of some remedial monitored program, which didn't allow for any scholarships, and the option of attending a community college, and coming back in two years with my undeserving tail between my legs. The first half of that meeting was fun, the second half resulted in a drunken stooper over the next 8 hours.

Sometimes life is that way.

-Rys4K

p.s.- We raise our glasses, and toast to the Rys4K I could be.