and all the rest is rust
I don't know how good I am at writing, but I do know that i'm horrible at starting and even more horrible at finishing. I'll start somewhere else.
The other day, I went to my first class of the semester, and it was in a little room with a litte professor, full of little-feeling students with big voices. It was freezing, and I couldn't think about anything but coffee and covers, but my professor looked so happy with his room and his class, and he kept smiling because of how proud he was of his words. When I paid attention, I was proud of them, too. We were all sitting at one of those big rectangular tables and it filled up the room, from the door to the wall made of windows. The professor sat on the window end, and talked and smiled and drew circles in the air and I stared and smiled back at him and hoped that he couldn't see how tired I was. He was saying something about China and giggling his nice old-man giggle and it started snowing. Hard and steady and perfect and he couldn't see it, but I could. I'd been waiting for snow ever since I got here and then there it was and all that I wanted to do was run out of the room and lay down somewhere outside and let it get all caught up in my hair, but I sat and he kept talking. I think that he might think that I'm in love with him now, since I spent the rest of the class staring lovingly at the space just a little bit behind him. I guess that's ok.
I made a list of the things that I should write about, and one of the points is "scared -- ok? well, it will be." I think that I believe that, but I don't know how.
I love the subways and how quiet they always are and the way that it always seems like everyone else is weighed down by their everythings, but how it's ok, it's ok. We're all just riding the subway, it's going to be ok. I think that I think of things that are probably silly and ill-appropriate to be compared as metaphors for life a lot. I guess that's ok, too.
I had to write a paper for class and I didn't know what to do it on, so I wrote about being terrified. I don't know if this was a good idea or a bad idea, but it happened. It's really hard to know if i'm ever doing anything right or wrong, but i remember a couple of times when i knew that something was right. I don't think that there's a whole of things that are better than that, even if i was (am) kidding myself about them.
I don't know, I don't know.
The other day, I went to my first class of the semester, and it was in a little room with a litte professor, full of little-feeling students with big voices. It was freezing, and I couldn't think about anything but coffee and covers, but my professor looked so happy with his room and his class, and he kept smiling because of how proud he was of his words. When I paid attention, I was proud of them, too. We were all sitting at one of those big rectangular tables and it filled up the room, from the door to the wall made of windows. The professor sat on the window end, and talked and smiled and drew circles in the air and I stared and smiled back at him and hoped that he couldn't see how tired I was. He was saying something about China and giggling his nice old-man giggle and it started snowing. Hard and steady and perfect and he couldn't see it, but I could. I'd been waiting for snow ever since I got here and then there it was and all that I wanted to do was run out of the room and lay down somewhere outside and let it get all caught up in my hair, but I sat and he kept talking. I think that he might think that I'm in love with him now, since I spent the rest of the class staring lovingly at the space just a little bit behind him. I guess that's ok.
I made a list of the things that I should write about, and one of the points is "scared -- ok? well, it will be." I think that I believe that, but I don't know how.
I love the subways and how quiet they always are and the way that it always seems like everyone else is weighed down by their everythings, but how it's ok, it's ok. We're all just riding the subway, it's going to be ok. I think that I think of things that are probably silly and ill-appropriate to be compared as metaphors for life a lot. I guess that's ok, too.
I had to write a paper for class and I didn't know what to do it on, so I wrote about being terrified. I don't know if this was a good idea or a bad idea, but it happened. It's really hard to know if i'm ever doing anything right or wrong, but i remember a couple of times when i knew that something was right. I don't think that there's a whole of things that are better than that, even if i was (am) kidding myself about them.
I don't know, I don't know.