After all the jacks are in their boxes, and the clowns have all gone to bed - FINAL THOUGHTS

...You can hear happiness staggering on down the street. And so it goes. Now, finally, a chapter seems to have come to a close. Although I've claimed completion and a return to independence before, I am slightly less nervous about saying it now. Still, I have restless dreams of monotony, and look over my shoulder often. Residual fears still attack me at random and continue to burn my eyes. I am consistently reminded of the previous weeks by a stack of paper-clipped units, a callous on my wrist, and my unkempt hair style. It stings, lessened by my own developed callousness.

So, what the fuck happened? Why'd I do it? This is precisely the question that old Clyde would ask me; the only question really. The most simple of questions. It goes straight to the heart of the matter without kicking around in the dirt. I wish the answer was just a one-liner - "Had to," "Wanted to," "Get better." But, even if the answer contains multiple layers, the question still maintains its strength. Mostly, I think, I did it with the idea of challenging myself. Seeing how far I could push the envelope you could say. Selfish and/or stupid I think now, but perhaps necessary. Irony: in the most selfish endeavour of my life, here I sit talking about it. But, not to illustrate to you, the faithful reader, but to dump somewhere. Better in the internet ethers than in someone else's head or in your already filthy backyard. Read it and take it in at your own risk.

In summary, I was pushed to my limit in a two week time span. I liken it to nearing a black hole or, since I'm just figuring on what it would be like to enter a black whole dimensional warp, putting a magnet near the fridge. You get closer, with no apparent change in behavior, then a sudden crushing, or in the case of the fridge magnet, a sudden and often frightening slapping or clacking, depending on the sort of magnets you prefer. This didn't have to happen. That story is for a different day, but it should be noted that I may have to take some of the responsibility for this when I did put a deadline on my finishing date. That's being generous though, and my own inner core is dark and dry, thus I will blame others for my crushing.

The two week crushing was the low-point of my existence. Not because of the work I was forced to do, I have to admit. It had much more to do with the questioning of my existence during this time. The overwork initiated this, as did those who were assigned to "mentor" me. I wasn't questiong whether I should exist, but rather, what is the point of this existence, i.e., why'd I do it? Is this work important for anything outside of me, or for that matter, inside of me? Either way, I had no time to contemplate, and that sent me into a downward spiral of negativity; I hated that I couldn't think of hating, that I couldn't view the downward spiral, that I was paralyzed, and so on and so forth. Even now I can't entirely access it all. And then I arrived at a fork in the road. I had a good feeling both roads were dead ends or suburban circles, the latter being much more highly feared. Other dead ends have trees or parking lots to enter - unknown terrain but a new adventure. Road #1 - quit - advantages: no more shit, disadvantage: may be haunted for some time, etc. Road #2 - keep going - advantages: may feel sense of accomplishment, pride, returned appetite, disadvantages: may die of sleep deprivation or starvation, may burn out, may become obsessed with career/creativity river is dammed up, may resent all people, people may hate me, other permanent damage, etc. In light of such thoughts, I was much more afraid of Road #2. I didn't want to face any of those things. It was hard to convince the people around me that Road #2 was more dangerous, and putting myself in their shoes, I see why. I'd have said the same thing to me... then. Nonetheless, all I wanted to get was the okay to just say fuck it. I guess I got that at some point. And really, then I just finished the whole thing. In retrospect, I think I mostly chose this route because I didn't have the time to clearly think of the consequences - maybe as if an intruder entered your house and you decided to shake his hand and give him some nice pie rather than whipping him with your good chain.

So, now that it's "over" it doesn't really seem over. I now struggle a lot with a fear of ending up in a similar position, and that the position is my own creation rather than something that somebody created for me to fall in to. I question what I'm doing a lot more and whether or not I've lost touch with other aspects of myself that I think are more important. It's difficult to determine that; my mind is maybe a tangled mess. Possibly I should concentrate on the things I took from this experience-

1) At some point I will break, and I should predict whether or not this will occur - if the activity is necessary for me or someone else to live, then I will do it, otherwise I quit
2) Long-term activities that require my mind to be occupied during every minute of my existence are not beneficial under any circumstances
2a) I won't let any aspects of my life die for another
3) The people that surround you are more important than any endeavor
4) Some people are real uncompromising assholes - I should avoid them
4a) You should probably avoid those people as well
6) If I can't stop to smell the flowers and feel my existence, then I don't exist.
7) Taking things too seriously will likely give me cancer. Living an unhappy and anxious existence would be my demise (see (2) and (6) above)

There. That was good. Maybe it officially signified the end of this for me?