The new semester has taken off without me. I can't get myself to study. Partly it's because the first two lectures were mostly review of stuff from the spring term; partly it's because I'm distracted by other things in my life. Namely money.

I went to pick up my measly little paycheck from the restaurant on Friday and it was half of what it was supposed to be. I played phone tag with the payroll person and then got frustrated and went home to find two overdraft notices from my bank. Yay!! My paycheck: $101. My checking account balance: -$99. No lie. I now have $2 to my name.

I called my Mom and (literally) sobbed to her about the state of my finances. The fuckers at U.S.C. financial aid won't release my living allowance loan until sometime next week. All my bills are past due. Even once I get those loans I won't be able to cover everything.

My mom didn't know what to say, which came as no surprise. Her first words of comfort were: "Well you knew it was going to be hard" and "Do you want to drop out of school?"

Uhm, no Mom. I don't.

The problem is that she always thinks I'm just hitting her up for money; but honestly I just wanted someone to say they understood what it feels like to work so hard and have nothing material to show for it. When I told her that's what I wanted, she came through with sad-sack stories about not being able to afford groceries and her bratty kids whining about not getting to go on vacation.

Drew spotted me some cash so I wouldn't end up back in the red by the end of the weekend. Then on the way back from the bank my blinkers stopped working.

So now I'm using hand signals.

 

Yesterday I started volunteering at a community health clinic. It looks good on a med school application and I also thought it might help keep me focused on the real reason I'm taking organic chemistry and molecular biology this semester. I found this place through my sister, who went there for her goiter.

The volunteer thing started off poorly. No one seemed to know why I was there; the woman who hired me was stuck in a meeting or something. They put me to work labeling medical records, which was fine by me. But after about 45 minutes my mind started to wander and then I started feeling trapped. What the fuck was I doing putting little color-coded stickers on file folders? How long could I do this without complaining? I decided I'd do it for four weeks (which would be eight half-days of volunteering) and then I'd demand a more interesting assignment. But how would I make it through an entire month? My free time is in desperately short supply these days and I have no money... how could I devote 50-60 hours to these little stickers?!?!

I tried to calm myself by striking up a conversation with Jose, the guy I was working with. Jose used to work here at U.S.C. in student health services. "What'd you think of the students," I asked him. "Were they nice?"

"Uh, you know, yeah. The students were great. Louis and I were gonna go to U.S.C.," he said, referring to another coworker in the room. "But we decided it wasn't worth our time. Right, Louis?"

Louis looked confused and didn't answer.

Jose: "I said you and I got into U.S.C., but we decided we'd rather work here instead. Right, Louis?"

Louis tried to laugh it off, but I could tell he was offended. My comment was intended to spark some conversation about how the U.S.C. undergrads are, on the whole, kind of snotty and rude. "Please" and "thank you" are rarely heard around here. But I guess I should have realized that what I was really doing was pointing out the fissure between the students and the campus workers -- something that obviously touches on a pretty deep insecurity in Jose. When I realized this, I felt awfully turd-like.

I shut up for the next 45 minutes. Jose left and came back several times, but rarely spoke to me. Then he called me out of the office and led me down a hallway. A hallway which I was predicing would lead to a backdoor through which I'd be pushed -- a proper fate for a snotty little Trojan like me. But instead Jose took me to the nurse's station where he introduced me to the clinic's doctors and told them how helpful I was being. The doctors were awfully nice and offered to chat with me at the end of the day, which was terribly generous since they see patients from 8am to 7pm every day.

I thanked Jose two or three times. "That was really great, Jose. Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it." He blushed and nodded and then we got back to the stickers.

Then, at the end of the day, I had a nice long chat with one of the doctors and he offered to let me shadow him.

 

U.S.C.'s fall term started yesterday. Campus was so crowded you could barely move. "It wasn't like this last semester," a classmate noted. That's true. Spring semester was our first semester at U.S.C. and there weren't nearly this many people walking around. We decided that by the time the spring semester rolls around all the undergrads' good intentions give way to casual sex and Jagermeister. I actually hope that happens by the end of the month, because I can't take these crowds.

Everyone is so well-dressed. Last semester it seemed like everyone was wearing sweatpants and frat/sorority t-shirts every day. Yesterday there was lots of Gucci and Prada -- lots of oversized sunglasses and ugly designer purses. It's kind of cute and charming that they put that much effort into looking cool. It would probably annoy me more if I thought it was going to last longer than a week.

 

Meet Da Pepper. Isn't she purty? She likes cheese, cheesy sci-fi novels and No Doz caffeine pills. She graduated from Yale Law School last year and in a few weeks she's starting a new job in Philly fighting for the gays. Yay for the gays! She and her husband, ultimate frisbee enthusiast/physics prof Kevin Team Kevin, came to L.A. and stayed with us last week. This is a photo from our trip to Matador Beach in Malibu.

I love you, Pepper!! Come back soon!!!

 

Why can't I just read trashy books? Perhaps a thriller or some sci-fi -- a Phil McGraw self-help or some wonderfully treacly Pat Conroy? How come every time I go to the library/bookstore I walk away with a "Classic Piece of Literature" or a biography of Lincoln? Just who do I think I am? How can someone who watched three hours of Rock Star: INXS last night feel like trashy books are a waste of his time?

Nothing is more a waste of my time than forcing my way through books I don't really want to read. It's been a lifelong problem. I've started (but not finished) countless books: This Side of Paradise, Moby-Dick, Swann's Way... it's a long list. I'd attempt to complete it, but then I'd just be re-confirming (to myself) my dilettante credentials, since I'd just be flashing names to try to impress you with my attempts at trying to impress myself.

I went to the library last week because I missed reading for pleasure. It's one of the first things that gets sacrificed when I get really busy. But instead of going in the Harry Potter direction, I emerged with The Adventures of Augie March. Which is actually very readable and enjoyable; yet it's also a book that makes me think about how our characters are formed and how hard (or impossible) it is for people to change. And how that's what ultimately determines what becomes of us.

And so I put it down and turn on Kill Reality. Which Drew thinks is depressingly awful (which is true). But at least I can be depressed by something that's depressing because it's so bad, instead of depressing because it's so true.