Life's Been Kind
So yes, let's talk about how the mere action of getting from day to day is a maddening endeavor at the moment. If there's any one concrete thing I've learned so far this semester, it's that pre-med is not where I want to be in my life at the moment. It's something I'd love to be able to grasp and be a part of, but not now, I'm not ready. I cannot take another semester like the one I have right now. It's killing me, friends, and not so slowly either.
(Stanley Rabinowitz, Russian Lit Prof. and friend, on seeing me walk into his office today: "Skinny, bags under eyes...either you're about to have a nervous breakdown or you've been reading Dostoyevsky again.")
I've had no time to really do anything at all that brings me any sort of relief or pleasure. So many things that I have wanted to write here have come and gone, entered and left my scattered mind; so many fleeting ideas carried away by the chilly autumn breeze. I am actually writing this in Chemistry class right now because, as far as I can rationalize, it is a much better option than crafting a noose out of the power strip hanging above me and doing myself in here and now (that's called speeding up the process).
One of the big negative effects of my lifestyle, besides of course my completely unstable mood and borderline mental breakdown, is my smoking. I've found that I don't have the time to go to my cherished workouts and find that once again I'm smoking a ridiculous amount, if for no other reason than to have a cause to take a break every hour or so. Interestingly enough, my body's developed a sort of Pavlovian reaction to cigarettes. Upon putting that first double-edged sword in my mouth every morning, the deepest pit of my stomach begins a cycle of horrid churning. I'm going on having been a smoker off and on for two years now, having kicked the habit and come back four times. Will this ever end? I think I just need to get through this semester. I think I just need a good, well chilled glass of scotch.
I've dumped a song onto the server for you guys, and you will all get it at your earliest convenience. It's called If I gave you tha' mic by a New Zealand Jazz/R&B set calling themselves Sheelahroc. I promise you that once the guitar mingles with the double-bass in your bloodstream and is carried out to your sensory organs, it will become lodged in your skull and you will hear it in your sleep...in that most amazing sort of way. I'm also starting a cover band devoted to William Francis Murray. It will be called Infectious Sexus. Don't know why I just thought of that again.
OH! Almost forgot. This:
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
Is still the one of the most twisted things, in my eyes, that I ave read recently. I'll explain at some point. Maybe.
I'm too tired and busy to get into my personal life vs. my social class right now, but it's been building so it just may "splooge" all over this page.
Cheers.
Pawel
P.S. The Maxwell-Boltzman distribution can kiss my cynical ass.
(Stanley Rabinowitz, Russian Lit Prof. and friend, on seeing me walk into his office today: "Skinny, bags under eyes...either you're about to have a nervous breakdown or you've been reading Dostoyevsky again.")
I've had no time to really do anything at all that brings me any sort of relief or pleasure. So many things that I have wanted to write here have come and gone, entered and left my scattered mind; so many fleeting ideas carried away by the chilly autumn breeze. I am actually writing this in Chemistry class right now because, as far as I can rationalize, it is a much better option than crafting a noose out of the power strip hanging above me and doing myself in here and now (that's called speeding up the process).
One of the big negative effects of my lifestyle, besides of course my completely unstable mood and borderline mental breakdown, is my smoking. I've found that I don't have the time to go to my cherished workouts and find that once again I'm smoking a ridiculous amount, if for no other reason than to have a cause to take a break every hour or so. Interestingly enough, my body's developed a sort of Pavlovian reaction to cigarettes. Upon putting that first double-edged sword in my mouth every morning, the deepest pit of my stomach begins a cycle of horrid churning. I'm going on having been a smoker off and on for two years now, having kicked the habit and come back four times. Will this ever end? I think I just need to get through this semester. I think I just need a good, well chilled glass of scotch.
I've dumped a song onto the server for you guys, and you will all get it at your earliest convenience. It's called If I gave you tha' mic by a New Zealand Jazz/R&B set calling themselves Sheelahroc. I promise you that once the guitar mingles with the double-bass in your bloodstream and is carried out to your sensory organs, it will become lodged in your skull and you will hear it in your sleep...in that most amazing sort of way. I'm also starting a cover band devoted to William Francis Murray. It will be called Infectious Sexus. Don't know why I just thought of that again.
OH! Almost forgot. This:
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
Is still the one of the most twisted things, in my eyes, that I ave read recently. I'll explain at some point. Maybe.
I'm too tired and busy to get into my personal life vs. my social class right now, but it's been building so it just may "splooge" all over this page.
Cheers.
Pawel
P.S. The Maxwell-Boltzman distribution can kiss my cynical ass.