dannydmc

I think that I am currently emeshed in an existential crisis of sorts; a fact which not only disturbs me but which I also find rather embarrising. I'm a midwesterner, a Wisconsinite to be exact, and truth be told these forms of crisis are not for us. I've always grown up believing that they were the sole property of East and West coasters who grew up in cities and, as such, away from the natural world and the way things should be (no offence to you coasters out there).
I'm exagerating a bit, mainly to make myself smile. I've gone through identity crisis before and, although I've always managed to emerge from them stronger than before, it has always been a terribly uncomfortable period and I don't relish finding myself in another one at this point in my life. I'm trying to build my future, setting the ground works for all that will come later, and suddenly I'm beset by doubts and feelings in inadequency. The worst thing is is that the more I think about it, this is not a new conflict, but one which has been bubbling under the surface for a while; occasionally emerging to let off some steam.
I won't go into a painfully long account of my life the last few years; it would bore you, and I'm sure I've written about it in these journals already. But I will say that suspect that teaching is at the root of my current predicament. Or, with more thought, maybe teaching isn't the problem so much as it is trying to set out in these annoying post-college years.
I love college, my last year was wonderful, I had a decent job, a good apartment and more good friends than I prob'ly had in my entire life previous to that time. However, ever since I left Marquette to student teach and then enter the teaching profession I've not only been isolated but it seems as if every time I turn around life is trying to bitch slap me. Not enough to take me down, of course, I recongize that there are those out there who have it much worse than I do, but enough to the point where its really beginning to hurt and make me a bit gun shy towards life. Furthermore I keep managing to put myself into a position where I am isolated; I just spent 9 months in an Eskimo village where I was the youngest teacher in the school and the only single guy on staff as well. I got along with my co-workers well, they really liked me in fact (I find, sometimes to my own amazement that people really DO like me a lot, even if I never seem to ever be 'one of the gang'), but I just felt so utterly isolated there at times. It sometimes felt like those Tundrea wnds would blow forever and there was never any getting away from them; they shook the entire house and screamed threough the door.
Now I'm trying to correct some of the problems. Teaching High School was not nearly as good a fit to me as I thought (which burns a little in and of itself. I may tell others that I went into it out of spite because everyone kept telling me how much I hated it, but thats not the whole truth. Deep in my mind I think I just wanted to be a part of a community and be excepted into it, and the roll of teacher in a small town seemed romantic and fun) But, if I'm not going to teach, what then should I do? Grad School seems the natural choice; but what should I go for? Right now the two best choices seem to be either a Masters in Business Administration or going for my PhD in History (focusing on the Upper Midwest during the Populist and Progressive Era of course). Now, my openly admitted goal for years has been to get into politics and stand for election; the MBA would most likely let me get into an adminsitrative position somewhere and make a name for myself. But would I enjoy the work? I think I would, but then again I thought I'd like teaching to. Following the path of History might be a little harder to get elected, but I also think I might as well enjoy....or would I?
For years I've had a fear of becoming some dusty old academic; a teacher at some Junior college who writes books that no one will ever read. Of dying at the age of 70 and the only record of my existence will be some moldering books sitting in some dark library before that no one has checked out in decades. I want to do things, to make a difference in the world; I want people to be reading about me 100 years from now, rather than me writing about things which happened that same length of time ago. Oh, but the call of academia is still deep in my bones!
Add to that my general lonliness. Its been two years since I've even had a date; I'm a 24 year old virgin, I'm becoming a nightmare version of how I feared I'd turn out when I was in High School. I desperately want some human interaction with women that goes beyong being friends. You know, I usually don't even like being touched by many people and yet my dreams lately have not been about sex, but even simply cuddling up with someone, of connecting with them. Not that its much use; there are so few eligable girls where I am anyway, I'm moving around this entire summer and even if I did meet someone who is going to want to be with an inexperienced 24 year old anyway?
When the hell did I become the Fisher King? When the hell did I become so fucking wounded? For those of you who are not familiar with the story the Fisher King was the keeper of the Holy Grail. One day he road into battle against a 'heathen' and upon his lance was the word "amor", love. His lance struck and killed the heathen knight but the other Knight's lance struck him and speared the King through the thighs, castrating him. In a way I think I've identified myself with the King, except I can't expect to wait for someone to come and cure my ails; one must do that himself but damned if I know how.
*sighs* That all sounds terribly melodramatic I suppose, but so be it, I work with teenages and perhaps their pencahnt for melodrama has worn off on me. God, though, I need to get myself out of his hole I dug for myself; I need to figure out where I'm going in life and how to at least patch up these wounds well enough so that I can function again.


Edit: I'm actually feeling a bit better today and suprised I wrote a long post that was such a downer. Anyway, I should be seeing Hank Williams III tonight I suppose what I wrote last night is still technically true, but I'm looking at it through a better light today.