(no subject)
I've been reading literature all summer, and with every book I blaze through I realize more stupid shit about myself.
And since there aren't a ton of people around to share these ideas with - I'm going to bless all of you with the joys of my thoughts.
I have very few effective means of creative expression. I used to draw. Paint. Take pictures. I used to, even in an artificial way, use means other than my words to express my concept of the world. I probably used to even write bad poems, or weak fiction, but now, I feel so stifled.
I think I'd like to get myself back into the darkroom, or drawing again, it might be healthy to let some of my concepts out every now and again. I'll have to work on the motivation aspects, but maybe it'll be fun. I just hate sucking at things.
I don't think I read because I like it, so much as I read because there are books that I think I need to read. And that's weak. There's no sense in trudging through books just for the sake of being able to say, "Oh, I've read that." Most of the time, I don't even remember the point of the books I've read, I blaze through in two days, and after two more, the whole story is lost. The only books I've read this summer which had any impact on me were Brave New World, Of Mice and Men, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. And to be frank about the Potter book, I thought the ending was weak, I'm just glad it's finally over. (But honestly, could the epilogue have been more trite? More unnecessary? I doubt it.)
I worry that I'm stifling myself by focusing so much of my time on being an intellectual. All of the math and the science really interest me, but math isn't really something you can express yourself with. And if it is, I'd rather not be the kind of person who does that.
I dunno.
Moving Friday.
Party Saturday.
Getting my life back to full speed again soon.
And since there aren't a ton of people around to share these ideas with - I'm going to bless all of you with the joys of my thoughts.
I have very few effective means of creative expression. I used to draw. Paint. Take pictures. I used to, even in an artificial way, use means other than my words to express my concept of the world. I probably used to even write bad poems, or weak fiction, but now, I feel so stifled.
I think I'd like to get myself back into the darkroom, or drawing again, it might be healthy to let some of my concepts out every now and again. I'll have to work on the motivation aspects, but maybe it'll be fun. I just hate sucking at things.
I don't think I read because I like it, so much as I read because there are books that I think I need to read. And that's weak. There's no sense in trudging through books just for the sake of being able to say, "Oh, I've read that." Most of the time, I don't even remember the point of the books I've read, I blaze through in two days, and after two more, the whole story is lost. The only books I've read this summer which had any impact on me were Brave New World, Of Mice and Men, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. And to be frank about the Potter book, I thought the ending was weak, I'm just glad it's finally over. (But honestly, could the epilogue have been more trite? More unnecessary? I doubt it.)
I worry that I'm stifling myself by focusing so much of my time on being an intellectual. All of the math and the science really interest me, but math isn't really something you can express yourself with. And if it is, I'd rather not be the kind of person who does that.
I dunno.
Moving Friday.
Party Saturday.
Getting my life back to full speed again soon.