navel-gazing.
i spent most of yesterday reading a trashy fantasy novel cover-to-cover. then we had dinner with b's family.
i think if all else fails ill be a paramedic. b's brothers girlfriend is one and she is awesome. guaranteed job, a week off at a time, and you get to help people without having to be caring and nice for an extended period (i could never be a nurse). and its okay to have a morbid sense of humor. im so in. except for the two years of hard-core school. i dunno about that.
but seriously.
every time i have to tell someone it gets a little easier. ive decided that this is not going to be a defining moment in my life.
b's parents were purprisingly understanding. they suggested that i try to work it out as a 'leave of absence'. i doubt that ill want to go back in a year, but it leaves the door open, and looks better.
still worried about telling mom. but shell probly read it here first anyway. i guss thats bad. i just dont know what to say. i think shell think im quitting. i think its more like divorcing while youre still friends... or something.
otherwise, ive got a few months to just do all the things ive been wanting to do, and think a lot. so im going to use them. well see what happens next.
ive reached the end of the path i foresaw when i was 17. it had already begun to deviate, yet i thought i should still be on it. im not. i dont know where i am or where im going. i know i want to be involved with art. i cant not. i gravitate towards the same section of the used book store without thinking. but im pretty fed up with a lot of things about how it runs here, and i dont want to be a part of all the crap. im sick of art and artists that are smart, but uninspiring. people who make art for people like them, the smart enlightened few who understand the theory. theory's great, but im sick of preaching to the choir and excusing obtuseness with essays. the kind of art criticism that hates the weather project simply because it had mass appeal. god forbid the unwashed masses go to a museum and have fun. artisnotfunthisisseriousbusiness.... i know its not all like that, but a lot of toronto is. and im not going anywhere else just yet, so im going to have to find/make a place for myself here.
i want to play. like filliou said: i do not like work that is not play.
i was raised to change the world to fit me, not the other way around. maybe that has made my life harder, but i refuse to settle and do what im supposed to because its easier, or because idealism is for wusses.
so what? so ill be a wide-eyed idealist, living in a world i make. better than being jaded and disgruntled, waiting for retirement.
i think if all else fails ill be a paramedic. b's brothers girlfriend is one and she is awesome. guaranteed job, a week off at a time, and you get to help people without having to be caring and nice for an extended period (i could never be a nurse). and its okay to have a morbid sense of humor. im so in. except for the two years of hard-core school. i dunno about that.
but seriously.
every time i have to tell someone it gets a little easier. ive decided that this is not going to be a defining moment in my life.
b's parents were purprisingly understanding. they suggested that i try to work it out as a 'leave of absence'. i doubt that ill want to go back in a year, but it leaves the door open, and looks better.
still worried about telling mom. but shell probly read it here first anyway. i guss thats bad. i just dont know what to say. i think shell think im quitting. i think its more like divorcing while youre still friends... or something.
otherwise, ive got a few months to just do all the things ive been wanting to do, and think a lot. so im going to use them. well see what happens next.
ive reached the end of the path i foresaw when i was 17. it had already begun to deviate, yet i thought i should still be on it. im not. i dont know where i am or where im going. i know i want to be involved with art. i cant not. i gravitate towards the same section of the used book store without thinking. but im pretty fed up with a lot of things about how it runs here, and i dont want to be a part of all the crap. im sick of art and artists that are smart, but uninspiring. people who make art for people like them, the smart enlightened few who understand the theory. theory's great, but im sick of preaching to the choir and excusing obtuseness with essays. the kind of art criticism that hates the weather project simply because it had mass appeal. god forbid the unwashed masses go to a museum and have fun. artisnotfunthisisseriousbusiness.... i know its not all like that, but a lot of toronto is. and im not going anywhere else just yet, so im going to have to find/make a place for myself here.
i want to play. like filliou said: i do not like work that is not play.
i was raised to change the world to fit me, not the other way around. maybe that has made my life harder, but i refuse to settle and do what im supposed to because its easier, or because idealism is for wusses.
so what? so ill be a wide-eyed idealist, living in a world i make. better than being jaded and disgruntled, waiting for retirement.