Syllabus...
Well, first day of classes were Thursday. That would be yesterday. Yes...it's all coming back to me now. Usually, I would give you a brief synopsis of the goings on of that time, but this is my new livejournal, the kind you don't get handed on a silver platter. Oh no, not this time. Now you have to read, you have to enjoy, if you dare. I'm not exactly sure what will come of it, but expect a lot of nonsense and a lot of excitement. If you love words.
Composition is a wonderful course, made even more wonderful by my new professor Julia Rose. Fantastic. Loved it. We did some free writing. It was supposed to be about a place and have a character, but I was trying not to constrict myself to anything. Usually I spend so much time thinking about what I want to write that by the time it comes down to actually doing any writing I'm completely stuck with thoughts. No room for creativity there, I say. So, instead, I blocked everything out of my mind and just went with the first sentence I got. It wasn't anything special, but you can decide that for yourself. Then it just took me somewhere, maybe only somewhere I go. Or maybe you've been there, I guess you can decide that as well.
Any place in the world can be anywhere but here. Sometimes a sentence comes and grows, often it sticks and wallows in the muck of your brain, an aneurysm without the fatalities. But, no, these thoughts are not mine. Not your either, I suppose. Amazing, then, that we have shared them like this, here. And why? Because, for now, we are one? I step in, not cautious for that can mean unwanted pain, but quickly, almost running if I were not so cold already. Rocket, trusty, faithful, always at my side, always with me, ready to lift me up and carry me away if need be. But you, you, you envelop me, embrace me. Love, hate -- this relationship is neverending torture that has me completely enamored with you. I sing, less today than I did before, but still sweet melodies that only you can hear. Lost to your power, they drift back, away from me, but returning, always returning. This game we play, is it not real? When I speak to you, what ears are there to hear me. I once read that unicorns live in your presence, and I do not doubt this is true. But show me something, you know what I want to see. The roll, the crest, the possibility that maybe this time will be the one. Patience is not something I find out here, but still I wait. Out of respect, out of fear. I know what it is to taste you, to lose myself to your wonder and that is more terrible than I can say. Rocket, yes, there you are. Stay near, stay close. My shield, my survival, my weapon. Am I untrusting? Yes, you frighten me. But, by guarding myself form your attacks, however playful in spirit, do I run the risk of angering you? I do not know yet, I apologize aloud. How can we be without trust? I mus try again, for the pebbles are scraping my knees and Rocket is immobile. I turn back to you. This game we play, yes? Tug of war with no rope, a tango with no rhythm. The abusive relationship with no end in sight. The cycle continues: I go back. Yes, I am afraid. No, I shall not be conquered. In this, we are equals.
Composition is a wonderful course, made even more wonderful by my new professor Julia Rose. Fantastic. Loved it. We did some free writing. It was supposed to be about a place and have a character, but I was trying not to constrict myself to anything. Usually I spend so much time thinking about what I want to write that by the time it comes down to actually doing any writing I'm completely stuck with thoughts. No room for creativity there, I say. So, instead, I blocked everything out of my mind and just went with the first sentence I got. It wasn't anything special, but you can decide that for yourself. Then it just took me somewhere, maybe only somewhere I go. Or maybe you've been there, I guess you can decide that as well.
Any place in the world can be anywhere but here. Sometimes a sentence comes and grows, often it sticks and wallows in the muck of your brain, an aneurysm without the fatalities. But, no, these thoughts are not mine. Not your either, I suppose. Amazing, then, that we have shared them like this, here. And why? Because, for now, we are one? I step in, not cautious for that can mean unwanted pain, but quickly, almost running if I were not so cold already. Rocket, trusty, faithful, always at my side, always with me, ready to lift me up and carry me away if need be. But you, you, you envelop me, embrace me. Love, hate -- this relationship is neverending torture that has me completely enamored with you. I sing, less today than I did before, but still sweet melodies that only you can hear. Lost to your power, they drift back, away from me, but returning, always returning. This game we play, is it not real? When I speak to you, what ears are there to hear me. I once read that unicorns live in your presence, and I do not doubt this is true. But show me something, you know what I want to see. The roll, the crest, the possibility that maybe this time will be the one. Patience is not something I find out here, but still I wait. Out of respect, out of fear. I know what it is to taste you, to lose myself to your wonder and that is more terrible than I can say. Rocket, yes, there you are. Stay near, stay close. My shield, my survival, my weapon. Am I untrusting? Yes, you frighten me. But, by guarding myself form your attacks, however playful in spirit, do I run the risk of angering you? I do not know yet, I apologize aloud. How can we be without trust? I mus try again, for the pebbles are scraping my knees and Rocket is immobile. I turn back to you. This game we play, yes? Tug of war with no rope, a tango with no rhythm. The abusive relationship with no end in sight. The cycle continues: I go back. Yes, I am afraid. No, I shall not be conquered. In this, we are equals.