20. Excerpt from Anthony Stephens’ Mood Journal

January 12 2003

Morning: 3 out of 10

Afternoon: 7 out of 10

Night: 6 out of 10

Nice session today. Kind of got me thinking about some stuff that might help me out. Me and Doc were going back and forth as usual, me lying back on “The Couch,” (it’s not nearly as ominous as it sounds; just a big brown lumpy thing that looks like it might’ve been passed down from Doc Silver Sr.), him asking me something, me telling him I don’t know how to answer that crap, him asking it again and me getting pissed off.

Only, today he just sort of jumped forward in his chair in the middle of the routine, when I was about to start my usual rant, and told me I should think about going back to school. Stared at me afterwards with his mouth slightly open, like he’d just had a jarring epiphany or something and thought that I should be having one too. He told me I should pursue a degree in something, anything that might fix me. He used the word fix. I don’t think shrinks are supposed to use the word fix. He changed it like two seconds later though and started babbling on about how he thinks school “might help you sort yourself out, Anthony.” He says that a lot too, “sort yourself out.” Don’t know if that’s a British thing or what, but it makes me feel like my mind’s this huge filing cabinet with a bunch of shit poking out of the drawers. Not a pleasant image.

I asked him why he just blurted it out like that, about the school thing, and he said it just hit him, right then that he thinks part of my problem is I’ve got an overactive mind. That it’s not just a chemical imbalance that I can throw pills at, that I need other-shit. That I don’t have enough other-shit to think about so all I keep in my head is bad-shit.

“Yuh think too much about the little things in your life, Tony,” he said. “If yuh occupy your mind with lots of rubbish, you’ll start to feel like rubbish. Occupy it with the pleasantries of life, and things might start to look up for yuh.”

I don’t know what the hell all that’s got to do with him thinking I should go back to school, if he’s saying I’m too smart for my own good or I’m a headcase or he just wants me to leave him the fuck alone. My guess is all of the above.

Either way, I have to admit the idea sounds tempting the way he put it. I mean, I hated high school, don’t get me wrong. And my first attempt at college—that shit sucked. That’s where all this crap started, actually, in school. The drugs and alcohol and general not-giving-a-shit-about-tomorrow type of mentality; it all started in ninth grade, in the hallways at Sideview High and on the P.E. field after school and out by the bus stops. That’s where my mind started stabbing itself with this rusty knife. And my first failed attempt at college just gave me a sharper knife to jab with. So it’s a wonder I’m willing to even think about anything associated with the word education.

But, I mean, at the same time, things are so different now. I think I could do it if I wanted to. It’s not like there’s been this huge gap of time that I’ve been out of the academic circle. It’s not like it’s too late. I’m only twenty. It’s still early, I think. It’s just that—and I know how this is going to sound—my mom’s barely been rested in the ground a year and I’m already thinking about moving on to “bigger and better” things?

That’s not right. Can’t be.

I don’t know how long you’re supposed to mourn people, but I’d think there’s like a hierarchy when it comes to that sort of thing. Like, you’ve known somebody your whole life so it should take another lifetime to get over them.

But the idea’s so tempting. To go back to school on my own terms. Somewhere besides FIU too. To do what Anthony wants to do, as opposed to what’s going to make the most money.

Tell the truth, I don’t even know what the hell I like. I’ve had so much crap shoved in my face about what the best professions are that I haven’t had a chance to think about what I want. You push somebody in one direction long enough, their path turns into a tunnel. And eventually they’re going to look up and wonder why they can’t see the sky. The whole world seems like a playground when you’re not constrained anymore. If I went back to school, I could leave Miami without having to worry about what I’m leaving behind.

And I need to get out of here. I can’t start over when there’s so much around me that’s never going to change. Who knows, college might be my ticket.

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