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=  F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K.  =
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 { Author's note : I was majorly depressed when I typed this into a local }    
    
 { BBS.  It sucks from an English point of view, but it got my emotions   }
 { across well enough.  For the concerned reader (yeah right) I am feeling}
 { much better now, and without medication even.                          }

                        Depression, the Future, and Me.         
                        -------------------------------

        Hmm, now that I have to prepare for going off to college, barring 
that I not be accepted, I have started thinking about the rest of my life,
specifically, a career.
        And I don't want to.  I mean, a job is fine.  I've had a few, and I
liked them, but a real career?  I don't think I could handle it.  I have 
enough trouble with school, and the day to day monotony.  At least school has
summers and major holidays off.  A career.
        Fucking going to work every day, doing the same thing over and over,
again and again.  How long is my life going to be?  At a minimum 40 to 45 
years.  I can't bear the thought that I will go to college and spend money   
that neither my family or I has or will be likely to get soon, just so I can
be qualified for a job that will burn me out in about 10 years or less.
        The future is a grim thing for me.  To me the future is like a death
sentence hanging over my head, and the only crime I ever committed is being 
born into a world of increasingly specialized fields.  You can't even go from
one good job to another without the time and money to get a brand new 
education.  Damn.
        One damn word, all hard edged and sharp, like a shot bouncing off a 
wall into your head.  KA-REER.  Nothing to do about it but sit and rot.
        Of course, what are the options I have?  Getting a good job, working
9-5 five days a week.  Sure, I could do that until I am middle aged and then
just eat a gun over the keyboard I chained myself to.  Blow my brains into
the spreadsheet for a major project that my job would depend on.
        Or I could accept the work, and live for the goods.  Shut off all of 
the idealism  and be a fucking YUPPIE.  Turn off all the depression and own 
a new damn BMW every three years for me and my dumpy wife and dumpy kids to 
drive around in.
        Of course, that won't work.  I can't be a 9-5 person.  I chafe at any
type of firm pattern or schedule.  I need more danger in my life than a system
crash at work.  More challenge than learning the new company software.  More
to fear than being fired.
        Depressingly enough, I can't do the wandering handyman routine either.
There isn't much quality of life there.  Sitting around doing odd jobs and 
slowly dying with no major accomplishments.
        I think it is called a grind because it grinds you down into grease
for the corporate wheels.  Grist for the world mill.
        So, what comes next?  Do I keep looking over that next hill?  Trying
to be happy until I want to choke with joy.  I suppose I could keep wandering
and trying to find just the right thing.  That might be cool.  Maybe I could
get a folk song written about me.
        It just all looks black and depressing to me.

I dunno.

-fastjack


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