On the 12th of July, I created this post on my internal state at the time. I think the word that could best sum up the sentiments then is “despair.” I told myself that I would come back to my emotional state in a week, and as it is now the end of July, I am well past my own deadline for that evaluation.
At this point, I think I have transitioned into a state of hope. While that may seem like a better place to be, I am always slightly wary when I feel hopeful. It could mean that I have, yet again, set my sights on something impossible.
In fact, I’m not sure if hope is what you can reasonably call this feeling. Perhaps this is just what it feels like to be motivated. I read an email yesterday that really pissed me off and has changed my opinion of the sender. The two of us both happen to be looking for jobs at the moment. I have vowed from this point on to unequivocally do better than them. I will be better than they are at all the interviews we go to together. I will get a job before they do. In the height of my anger last night, I swore I would get a job by the end of August. I suppose you will see a post in another month about that.
On a different note, I am simultaneously scared and somewhat happier that I am gradually making peace with living in my parents’ home. The fear comes from how easy it is for me to become complacent. While adjustment to any new situation usually takes me a long time (especially since I haven’t lived at home in 6 years!), once I’m done adjusting, I can be quite reluctant to move again.
Then I wondered, what is here in Tampa that was never there in Northampton? Bhangra! Garba! Durga Puja! Diwali! All my favorite dance teams! All my favorite holidays, celebrated in full splendor! If I am here, I will not watch from afar in October while other people dance, while other people light the lamps, while other people set off fireworks!
If I am here.
The other possibility is that I will spend October adjusting to a city I do not yet know. I will try to make new friends. I hope I will live alone. It might be a quiet month, if there is not a large Indian community in the city I go to. Who knows what I will and will not have access to?
I’ll leave on this thought. There is something wrong with a system in which I can so thoroughly relate to this sentiment:
I generally feel worthless in school for not measuring up, and worthless right now for not “contributing to society” (quotes used here to question what kinds of labor are considered “contributions”, and in what ways they are measured). Ah well. Critical consciousness is such consolation.