Nineteen Ninety-Five

1995 sucked . I started the year collecting unemployment checks, living at my parent's apartment in Lincoln, Nebraska, but by February had graduated to assembly-line work at a plastic factory, where I made about $200/week. I felt, I dunno, like I was in suspended animation. I had applications out at grad schools, but it was entirely possible that I might spend the rest of my adult life living at my parents' house and spending $100/week on beer. By April, I had been accepted at every school to which I had applied, although none of them could offer me any aid, the bastards. I eventually narrowed my choices to two schools: Colorado State and Oregon. You can probably guess the rest of that story. In April, I began field work in Kansas. For my own mental health, I try to avoid thinking about Kansas now. I should have stayed on the project in Kansas until September, but quit in disgust at the end of July. I arrived in Eugene on August 13th, after a 40 hour train ride from Nebraska. At least now I felt like I had begun to do something, an urge that had been eating at me since perhaps March. For three weeks, I spent most of my time walking around Eugene, reading, drinking coffee, spinning my wheels. I turned 24 years old during Labor Day weekend. I literally knew no one in town. I hadn't met any of my neighbors. Katie--my future roommate, whom I knew only through telephone conversations--wouldn't move to Oregon for another two weeks. I forgot it was my birthday--no, really --until about noon, but I don't remember what reminded me of it. Maybe I remembered on my own, I dunno. I went to McDonald's for lunch, and read a magazine. I walked up to Hendricks park and watched the sun set. I have had worse birthdays.

My first term of graduate school went like this: Classes started on September 26th; I got an unshakeable flu virus a week and a half later. It started raining about the week of October 16th, and didn't really let up until December 20th. A fierce winter depression set in about November 6th; it peaked the week of November 20th, when I had a day so bad that I couldn't get out of bed, but couldn't go back to sleep, either, because I just didn't have the energy for it . I had my scuba certification dives on November 16th and 17th at Hoodsport, Washington. I beat that flu virus for good during Dead Week, around November 28th. I have not seen an unbroken horizon since moving to Oregon.

I can count on one hand the number of dates I had in 1995. Well, I did spend about a week in April with an ex-girlfriend visiting from Germany; my longest-running commitment for almost two years now. At the moment, I'm involved with a woman with a live-in boyfriend. I guess I sort of specialize in tragically abbreviated romances, with a minimum of emotional residue and a maximum of passion and melancholy.

1996 will be better. I've got all this student loan money for one thing, maybe I'll buy a car. Maybe I'll go to Alaska, but maybe not. Definitely, I'll have another summer of field work, and I love field work. And I've got grad school to distract me. It's easier dealing with academic worries than with the randomly-imposed despair of shitty McJobs. I will still miss Nebraska, but already that aching has become only an abstraction. I will meet more people in Eugene, and will probably form a few real friendships. Eugene will begin to feel like home, because I'll travel a little, and the place I'll return to will be Eugene. I will finally, finally go to Europe.

I never made New Year resolutions before 1996. I resolve to be a better person, of course: looser, more social, less self-absorbed and obsessive. I resolve not to watch TV just because I'm lonely. I resolve not to burn out halfway through each term. I resolve to exercise regularly, and I resolve not to loathe myself for failing to keep that resolution. I resolve to get a blood screen, drink less coffee, sleep more, complain less, and to read at least two books a month that no one requires me to read. I resolve to stop cringing when people touch me. I will try to be less grim and worry less about the future, but I probably won't have much success. I also resolve to eat more fresh vegetables.

Copyright © 1996 Paul Souders