new old more book profile blog rings host

prev abort, retry, fail next
2001-08-05 | 12:38 p.m.

Oh, I'm having a pity party today. Duff got me to go through some old boxes, old papers, and I read a letter I'd written to a friend in 1992 that I never mailed---I have lots of letters like this; sometimes I think I write them just for myself, never intending to mail them---and I could feel myself sinking. My heart sinking. (I remember how surprised I was when I realized, the first time I went through a serious break-up, that certain phrases we use---"my heart sinks," or "my heart aches"---these are actual physical feelings. They are not metaphors. But I digress.)

Anyway, I got to thinking about how big a failure I am. How I've failed at almost everything I've ever tried to do. My triumphs are tiny compared to my colossal failures and failed dreams. I'm talking in a general way about the tendency but I can be quite specific:

1. Failed to complete my bachelor's degree because I have yet to pass a class that fulfills Berkeley's quantitative reasoning requirement.

2. Defaulted on my student loans and am on a repayment schedule that will probably last as long as I live. When I went to set up the repayment schedule, the guy thought I was lying about my income, because it's so low.

3. Even if I manage to pass a math class to finish my degree, I'll still have to pay Berkeley the $3K I owe them before they'll give me a diploma. To be honest, I would really like to have a diploma so I can put a Berkeley alumni sticker on the back of my car. Isn't that stupid? But I won't allow myself to have the sticker until the degree is complete.

4. I owe a former co-worker and friend $2000. I borrowed it from her in 1994 so I could move back to Oakland. I paid her $500 then moved and didn't pay back the rest. Sometimes I worry that she will hire a hit man to come and kill me for not paying her back.

5. I fell out of graduate school for the following combination of reasons: a) They wanted me to finish my undergrad degree, so I took a statistics course and when it got to the part that required algebra, I couldn't do it. b) I couldn't afford to pay for school. c) I hated the program.

6. I have published a grand total of three magazine articles and one short story (which I wrote ten years ago). Not an impressive performance, is it? I've also written for Internet publication, for money I mean, but most of it was absolute garbage.

7. I am a bad friend and a bad daughter. I don't return the phone calls I'm supposed to return or send the cards I'm supposed to send or say the right things or remember to stop talking about myself.

8. My house is not nice. I don't keep it clean and it isn't decorated nicely. Almost everything is messed up somehow. We turn on our TV with a pencil or a bobby pin or a straw or an old phone antenna because all the buttons have fallen off. The remote control, on the rare occasion when we can find it, is temperamental and held together with a rubber band.

9. I have a novel to write that I never write.

10. I am overweight, out of shape, worried about my health, yet unmotivated (or at least undermotivated) to change.

I did get that other assignment from the computer magazine, and offered to share the work with Frank because he needs the money. If you think that sounds benevolent, you're wrong, because I didn't want to do it at all. I guilt-tripped myself into calling him because I knew I would feel terrible if he heard I got the assignment and didn't offer to share it with him after we had talked about doing just that the last time I finished a big piece like this (and complained that it almost killed me. I wanted to keep all the money for myself.

But now, after a couple of days of feeling put out, I feel better about sharing because I know it really is the best thing to do over the long run. Not that it makes me a nice person. I still loathe myself and you should, too.

I will write some more in a bit. I have to tell you about my birthday-party crisis yesterday.

prev archive next
0 comments

if you're not reading mawm you're not reading me
random