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Fucked Up College Kids File 542
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Beautiful Night
---------------
3:41 AM, says my computer. 4:37, says my alarm clock. I
trust the latter, since my computer is all fucked up at the moment,
and this is not good. In precisely twelve hours and twenty-three
minutes an examination will begin. I will be taking it.
Shit, I ain't prepared... but I don't want to be prepared
any more, 'cause, frankly, I don't give a fuck about it. I just want
to get it over with, fail the damn thing, explain to mom that this
college thing isn't really for me, and then get on with my life. Get
a job, or something. Perhaps go through an easier exam, just to get
into the second year of college and ward off the army for another
twelve months. Perhaps fuck it all and try to get permanently
relieved of the army because of my allergic asthma.
Either way, my life is about to change a lot.
I came home [well... as much as I can call this dump I
reside in at the moment "home"] some twenty minutes ago. I sat on
a bench in the park outside my building for at least an hour and a
half, listening to a new tape I recorded yesterday. Kickass music.
Goes well with friday nights in the capitol, though the park was a
bit too tranquil for the energetic breakbeats.
Yeah, and then there were the people in the park. Real odd,
you know, so many lives, so many destinies, pass each other bye,
without ever knowing about the existence of each other. Two benches
to my left, five skaters deeply involved with rolling a joint and
showing each other how happy they were about it. Right between us, a
beggar getting a good nights sleep, emitting a loud snore here and
there. Straight ahead of me, on the opposite end of the small park,
a couple, getting busy. _Real_ busy, from what I could see. A couple
of teenagers having a quiet conversation to my far right, and
probably several more souls in the park, outside my range of vision.
It is a nice, silent night. I could even see the stars through the
slowly dying leaves of the tree towering above me.
At one point, a fat old gipsy woman strolled by, murmuring
something to herself under her breath, pushing a beat-up shopping
cart filled mostly with trash and half-rotten bits of food in front
of her. She was dressed in torn up filthy rags, and an odor that
almost turned my stomach followed close behind her. She didn't stop
at that, she just had to push my stomach all the way. Seven or eight
meters to my right, the slow steady squeal of the cart stopped, and
she started frantically pulling her skirts up. I kept watching,
though the sight was disgusting, I was curious about what was
happening. I couldn't see what she was doing, but she must've pushed
her hand into her panties, and took out a handful of shit, because
she shook her hand off, and something very dark splattered all over
the path. She repeated this several times, and then continued to
inch forward nice'n'steady, relieved of the contents of her panties.
If there was any doubt as to what she dug out from under her skirt,
it was all chased away by the horrible stench that came my way
moments later. I tried to breathe as little as I could, got up, and
started walking away from this miniature ecological disaster.
The skaters fell silent for a moment as I passed them by,
but merrily went on rolling their spliff [quite unsuccesfuly from
what I could see, it was obviously not their first one tonight]
after I strolled away not paying much attention to them. The night
was nice, but I was dressed too lightly for it, I was becoming a bit
bored, and the ninety minute tape was coming to it's end. Oh, yeah,
and the gipsy woman didn't help make me feel any better, either. So
I made a small circle around the park, and headed back here, to this
little flat I reside in.
I had no new mail, my HTTP link was just _so_ fucking slow,
and I felt in the right mood, so I fired up the editor, and here I
am now, at line 71, listening to some mellow r'n'b on the radio.
It's nice, actually. I feel real good, because I like this kind of
smooth chill-out atmosphere, I like being all alone with nothing but
a deep hip-hop beat and the slow firing of my synapses, I really like
to sit in darkness and let loose.
I like not having to worry about anything. Though I probably
should. But I like to think that I have realized the deeper meaning
of that old cliche of "be yourself". If I just can't pass this exam,
then passing it just "ain't me", so why should I let it bother me?
If passing this exam is the precondition to a glorious carrier in
computing r&d, then this glorious carrier isn't me, either. If I am
damn good about coding, and am damn good about making music, and I
like doing both of these, then that's what I should do in life.
Come to think of it, I really don't know what made me want to
become a scientist-type, anyhow. I always was interested in how
things work, but today's physics is parsecs away from what it was
back in the glorious days of Newton & CO. No one wants to know how
things work, anymore. All they want is more data to process, more
numbers, more accurate measurements. It is a huge bureocratoid
system, and it's no wonder that it gives birth to a stereotypical
picture of a scientist as a skinny nerd with thick glasses,
incapable to shit properly if he doesn't calculate the proper
trajectory of the turd first. So fuck it all.
I will be what I want to be, what I dreamt about when I was
a kid, and what I dreamt about ever since I realized that "science"
was just a huge lie; I will be a hacker, and I will be a poet, a
musician and a martial artist. And if I can't make enough money this
way to live through the next day, then I'll find something else to
do until I can. But I will be myself. I will live through what would
otherwise remain just a childhood fantasy.
Damn! Why should it remain only that? I don't have a clue
about how come I realize these things only now! I mean, I get this
one stinking' life to live through, and what do I spend it on? Doing
what others expect from me and dreaming about being something
completely different? Fuck that. A roof over my head, food on the
plate, and a fuck here and there, is all that I need to be able to
do what I want in life - and these don't require much effort to
have.
In an hour or so, dawn will come. I will wait for it
completely awake, probably for the first time in my life... and I
will enjoy it. Just like I will enjoy every moment of my life, from
now on, because it is one, it is unique, and it is wonderful if
that's how I want it to be.
Wanna join me?
Phuzzy Logik/CoRRoSioN
September 12th, 1998.
phuzzy@galeb.etf.bg.ac.yu
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