Friday, September 03, 2004
The significance of special wrapping paper
Listen to this while you read my post. It's probably always been my favorite song, and I think it's appropriate for a 3 am post after a long, long day.
I guess it's only natural that I feel... a little melancholy at times like these. On top on a fairly light course load, I have plenty of honors thesis research that needs doing. On top of that, I'm applying for the British Marshall scholarship, which, in the honors department, is like announcing you're going to fly to the moon. I can't go into the honors office without murmurs of "Maaaaaarshalllll" reaching my ears.
If that wasn't bad enough, as I go around convincing faculty to write me recommendations, I now have their expectations on my shoulders, as well as the honors department staff, and my parents. I'll be glad when it's all done with, no matter what outcome I'm treated to.
So what does any of this have to do with my title? Well, after a long morning, I went and picked up a package from the post office. It was from my ex, so I knew it was probably my Farscape Season 1 box set, which I lent to her roughly a year ago, so I was quite happy to see it.
I went to the library to open the package, as I needed to stay in the area to meet a later appointment. For some reason, the package was decorated a little bit, and as I worked at getting it open (there was a lot of tape and I didn't have a knife) I noticed people were glancing at me, and smiling. It dawned on me after a while: a guy opening up a girl-decorated package, must be from a girlfriend.
This saddened me, and I felt like standing up in my chair and yelling:
My mind turned over, and I stared at the empty, torn packaging in my hands. I ripped out the note with my name on it, crumpled the remains, and left it in the rubbish.
I guess it's only natural that I feel... a little melancholy at times like these. On top on a fairly light course load, I have plenty of honors thesis research that needs doing. On top of that, I'm applying for the British Marshall scholarship, which, in the honors department, is like announcing you're going to fly to the moon. I can't go into the honors office without murmurs of "Maaaaaarshalllll" reaching my ears.
If that wasn't bad enough, as I go around convincing faculty to write me recommendations, I now have their expectations on my shoulders, as well as the honors department staff, and my parents. I'll be glad when it's all done with, no matter what outcome I'm treated to.
So what does any of this have to do with my title? Well, after a long morning, I went and picked up a package from the post office. It was from my ex, so I knew it was probably my Farscape Season 1 box set, which I lent to her roughly a year ago, so I was quite happy to see it.
I went to the library to open the package, as I needed to stay in the area to meet a later appointment. For some reason, the package was decorated a little bit, and as I worked at getting it open (there was a lot of tape and I didn't have a knife) I noticed people were glancing at me, and smiling. It dawned on me after a while: a guy opening up a girl-decorated package, must be from a girlfriend.
This saddened me, and I felt like standing up in my chair and yelling:
"Don't be deceived.. this isn't the sign of the middle of a blossoming long distance relationship! This is the sign of the end... of the final chapter being closed. We are all materialists, and we musn't let our connections to others shrivel while they still have our goddamn stuff!
Don't ever share a bank account! Don't ever buy something together! Pay for your own meal! Otherwise, when it all comes crashing down around your head, your last contact with your significant other won't be a set of harsh words, a look in the eye, it'll be the delivery of your stuff. Would you rather remember how it really ended, or just think of your relationship for what it's final value was: a boxes set of your favorite sci-fi show?"
My mind turned over, and I stared at the empty, torn packaging in my hands. I ripped out the note with my name on it, crumpled the remains, and left it in the rubbish.
