The harder-edged intensity of experience

Maybe we mistakenly think we want “happiness,” which we tend to picture in very vague, soft-focus terms, when what we really crave is the harder-edged intensity of experience. -Tim Kreider, Averted Vision, New York Times

This blog has become too public. When Akis comes into GSM lecture screaming, “Haaaay, I heard you have a blog. Is it about me?” or Carl messages me to say, “I may have drunkenly mentioned your blog to 4-5 people last weekend. Sorry…” you have to admit that most of the school knows who’s being way too revealing on the internet. So along with the anonymity, I’ve lost the desire to share creatively-but-thinly-disguised details of my private life. So, GP, you were right: I guess wasn’t writing for attention.

But I’ll try to keep it alive for a few more weeks. Eventually, I’ll be glad I did, right?

::

“When you graduate in a couple of weeks,” said the GSM prof matter-of-factly, “you will…”

I failed to hear the rest of that phrase because I was too stunned. Right, in some four weeks we’ll be done with classes. We will have our last-chance sloppy-seconds hookup-with-everyone-you’ve-failed-to-hook-up-with-by-now orgy on the beach somewhere (I think it might be somewhere in Sri Lanka, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?) and then we’ll be called MBAs. And I’ll go back to the country where most people outside of consulting have never heard of INSEAD, and possibly to a state where my undergraduate connections will carry more weight than my INSEAD ones.

So, I feel like I should be able to summarize some key takeaways. Make some grand, far-reaching conclusions about the year that has almost passed. Perhaps, reflect philosophically about what I’ve learned and the opportunities before me. Or, I should reflect on the ways I’ve changed (err… regressed). But I’ll leave that to my guest blogger (who also does a poor job of disguising himself).

But really, it hurts my head to think about it. Instead, I just want to run away. I’m done with the hard-edged intensity of experience, with the French inability to think creatively, with the out-of-reach Korean food, and the punk ass kids who steal dirty sneakers from people’s cars.

I’m also done with the costume parties and the merciless gossip and the small talk that rarely transcends the quotidian or the sexual innuendo. And I’m done with letting the men here disrespect me.

I’ll admit that I’m withdrawing from relationships and the bonding to eventually make it easier on myself to leave. I’m not better than anyone here; I’m just not good at faking enthusiasm.

It’s 3AM and I’m just in a piss-poor mood. In another three weeks, I’ll write a more chipper post.