Near, far, wherever you are!
Aaah - here on this bank and shoal of time! A month away, a month away.
Mind you, I'm about as prepared as Britain before the Battle of, but I think I can get there.... already feeling better about Lit, since I've written a couple of practice essays... and I should be able to repair my english abilities, those that I've let atrophy away into confusion. It happens, I've noticed - you think as you write, and if you do neither for an extended period of time, bits of what you created through them both begin to... well... not die but weaken... like dirt paths being overrun with weeds. But the path's still there! Interesting how little we forget in the end, at final call, we remember a lot more than we should. Or maybe memory's just so amorphous and vague, unreal, that we can convince ourselves that we remember anything we can talk about.... who knows? All I know is, talking about Nietzsche to Mitchell today felt like... well you know American Beauty? You know where Lester states that it's like he's "just woken up"? Like that. Once again.
My life DOES seems to be characterised by these periods of intense intellectual awareness, and then a sort of drifting pseudo existence. Contrast makes the world go... red and green?
But I'm wondering, in a broad, philosophical sense, what are your objectives, ladies and gents? Because the coming end of my submersion in a system of inductive education, has forced me to look squarely in my own face and ask.... "so what now?" And I don't know. I never really did, but there were enough institutions surrounding me that it wasn't really an issue, I could sidestep it. Now, it's about time I stop sidestepping, and take seriously some of the wank I've been spouting my entire life.
A month. Woo!
Mind you, I'm about as prepared as Britain before the Battle of, but I think I can get there.... already feeling better about Lit, since I've written a couple of practice essays... and I should be able to repair my english abilities, those that I've let atrophy away into confusion. It happens, I've noticed - you think as you write, and if you do neither for an extended period of time, bits of what you created through them both begin to... well... not die but weaken... like dirt paths being overrun with weeds. But the path's still there! Interesting how little we forget in the end, at final call, we remember a lot more than we should. Or maybe memory's just so amorphous and vague, unreal, that we can convince ourselves that we remember anything we can talk about.... who knows? All I know is, talking about Nietzsche to Mitchell today felt like... well you know American Beauty? You know where Lester states that it's like he's "just woken up"? Like that. Once again.
My life DOES seems to be characterised by these periods of intense intellectual awareness, and then a sort of drifting pseudo existence. Contrast makes the world go... red and green?
But I'm wondering, in a broad, philosophical sense, what are your objectives, ladies and gents? Because the coming end of my submersion in a system of inductive education, has forced me to look squarely in my own face and ask.... "so what now?" And I don't know. I never really did, but there were enough institutions surrounding me that it wasn't really an issue, I could sidestep it. Now, it's about time I stop sidestepping, and take seriously some of the wank I've been spouting my entire life.
A month. Woo!