Column: 2,136 hours: the story of my summer
Jul. 09, 2013
The opinions expressed by The Maneater columnists do not represent the opinions of The Maneater editorial board.
The diary entries you are about to read depict the experience of a 19-year-old female MU student on her first summer home from school. Warning: The experiences described in the following are extremely graphic and not for the faint of heart. Discretion is advised. Read at your own risk.
I cannot wait to be home. Freshman year is now over. It was quite the experience, and many friends and memories were made. However, some time off will be well received in the coming months.
It is wonderful to have returned to the city that bore me, Kansas City. Barbecue, shopping and a full-sized bed with my name on it. Let the summer begin.
I caught up with my best friend from high school, who just finished up her freshman year at kU. She's transferring, fortunately. We celebrated with Starbucks. I have also been hanging out with my former acquaintance who goes by the name of Sleep. We are getting very close. I'd almost say I'm caught up from finals week, but not quite.
My mother made lasagna for dinner tonight. I consumed three plates. It eclipsed anything I have ever been served at Rollins. I eat as if I am royalty. In other news, I have applied to three jobs at the mall. Soon my wallet will be overflowing.
Today, I discovered that my parents, unlike MU, do not have a firewall on the Wi-Fi. I spent my afternoon downloading every song in the history of music. It was enjoyable for about one hour. My MacBook then informed me that the memory stores had become severely depleted.
Today‚ mail provided me with three rejection letters from the jobs I applied to. Discouragement fills my soul. There is not much more to say. But I will continue on and prevail in my search.
My career opportunities continue to be barren. I spend my days on the couch watching the Food Network, seeing how daytime television lacks any other form of entertainment. The knowledge that I have gained implores me to widen the horizons of my culinary expertise. Today, I will grill pineapple. Tomorrow, I will grill the world.
I have discovered that my current excesses of free time allow me to ponder the faculties of life and the reasons why we are what we are. What are people but animals with technology? Why were humans the animals gifted with all of this capacity for creativity? Why do we exist? Who am I? What is my purpose? Is there a greater purpose? What is a question? What is thought?
My dreams are growing more and more vivid each day. The only goal is survival. Since May 17, I have gained 12 pounds from a combination of homemade fajitas, stress baking and watching television.
I am stricken with unemployment. Ambivalence sets in. I have spent the past three days on the futon watching "Blue Valentine," over and over again. Each time Michelle Williams tears pierce my heart like icicles, only to melt and leave an insatiable void.
The cats are growing restless, bored with my repeated attempts to communicate in the language of their people. The speakers in my car have ceased functioning, leaving me stranded, alone and hungry during weekdays from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. while my mom is at work. The job search is futile.
Today, a new low was explored. I went grocery shopping while sporting hair still wet from the shower. I did not find the gaping hole in the ass of my shorts until I was halfway down the produce aisle. Outlook is bleak. The Food Network no longer satiates my need for entertainment. Ina Garten is becoming insufferable.
I spent three hours at Starbucks today. The baristas now know me by name and my preference for dairy-free beverages. I fear I may have exercised all of Netflix's streaming capabilities. On to Hulu.
Lease starts August 14. 41 days to go. If I don't make it back to CoMo, tell my roommates I love them.
TO BE CONTINUED