Drop out.

It's official. The Mom and the Dad have learned that I will definitely not be attending grad school this summer or in the fall, or basically ever again. They know that I've officially quit. Before they had the impression that I was thinking about quitting, but now they know that I'm a drop out.

How long have I been pretending to go to grad school? Six months?

It started out fine, I enjoyed my classes. But I fucking hate teachers. I mean it, I really fucking hate teachers. I didn't like teachers when I was in school, and I don't like them now. Professors were okay...it was the teachers that pissed me off. And sitting in a classroom full of them, training myself to be a condescending know-it-all...I'm already a know-it-all. I don't need to add condescending to my list of bad traits.

I have to be moved out by the end of September. Although I was planning on this anyway, the Parents have now demanded it. Which I'm okay with, because they've really put up with a lot of my "I don't know what I want to be when I grow up" crap. I'm such a spoiled little whiney brat. They feed me and let me live with them while I dick around and go off to Live Band and flop around in my Gino's shirt, serving pizza, with no responsibility or life goals.

I deserve an award: Worst No-Direction Twentysomething Still Living With the Parents.

I am the ultimate disappointment. Even though I've never gotten in trouble with the law, and I'm not a drug addict, and I'm not really a problem child, I'm far worse. Rather than deliquency, I've taken another route: inertion. I refuse to move forward or change my current position in life, which is basically that of a slightly charming leech.

I have no idea what field I want to break into, or how to even begin. I have no aspirations or hopes or dreams. I have no talents or credentials. All of my best attributes or skills are mediocre in comparison to anyone who uses them professionally. I can't really make a career out of any of them. Apparently, I have "so much potential," but I don't see it, really.

I used to think I knew a lot about movies and music, but my confidence in my trivia abilities has really gone down in the past couple of years. Because now, trivia knowledge is pointless. To know things you don't actually have to watch the movies or listen to the music: you can just watch the special on VH1. So everything that I've "learned" over the years is irrelevant, because that knowledge is available in daily half-hour cable shows.

I should be happy about it. I should be glad that now everyone can know these things, because I used to get frustrated when people didn't. But now I'm not special anymore. I used to get phone calls in the middle of the night of friends and friends of friends quizzing me on movies, making me connect people to Kevin Bacon. Now they just google shit on their phones.

I am very good at talking to myself, though. I don't even mutter under my breath. Sometimes I have giant, combative arguments where I hit things and scare the dog, or I talk to myself in lonely, drawn out monologues while I pace around my basement until four o'clock in the morning, and the dog just sits on the couch with his head between his paws, blinking and trying to ignore me. I guess sometimes I'm talking to the dog, but usually it's to myself. Carrying on a conversation with myself is much easier than with another human being, because even when I disagree with myself I always make up with myself in the end. I can really hold a grudge, though.

I have completely lost my train of thought, so this blog is over.

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