Stream of Consciousness Post

freshman registration tonight – third night in a row – I am feeling so incredibly tired from having to deal with all these damned frosh and their annoying parents (why on earth do they need to bring their parents with them to registration anyway???) – on top of everything else, my skin has broken out in a strange rash that is making me itch like hell – went to the dermatologist and she said it was bug bites – gave me some foul smelling lotion to put on, but I still keep itching, itching, itching, itching – if I keep itching like this, pretty soon my skin will all fall off and I will be a walking skeleton – there are some advantages to that: at least I will look thin and fashionable – oh, yea, freshman registration – I was thinking about how wonderfully fabulous it is going to be to give up the miserably annoying administrative work and try out the lazy, luscious life of a bloated academic – just teach my classes and spend the rest of my time on a never-ending quest for the meaning of life – what on earth could have convinced me to take on this job in the first place? – I mean, I absolutely hate hearing about people’s problems, which is 90% of the job of a DFYE - when I do get some freshman starting to whine about how hard he has it, I inevitably want to say, “suck it up crybaby…life is hard” – but I know I can’t do that (can I?) – itching, itching, itching – what did I do to deserve this kind of punishment? – maybe this is a flesh-eating parasite and I will wind up looking like some kind of zombie with tattered limbs and entrails dragging along the floor – I don’t mind dying suddenly—like being assassinated, or something like that—but I would really hate to waste away in some kind of god-awful hospital with nurses prodding me every two minutes and smart ass medical students talking to me like I only had a third grade education – god, I hate the whole medical establishment – and the educational establishment – and the political establishment - basically, I hate every f*^#ing kind of establishment – I really just want to be left alone, but everyone keeps wanting a little piece of me – if I could just go off to some little cabin in the wood or a zen monastery where everyone keeps strict vows of silence, I would be so very, very happy – no telephones or email either – these would be strictly banned – I can see myself now: sitting in perfect silence and stillness as the gentle breeze blows gracefully through the maple trees – itching, itching, itching – will this damned rash ever go away?!?