studies in linguistics and intimacy: more musings and existential vacillation
I felt I should update to maintain a semblance of regularity. My mind may be spinning, but there is hardly a thought worth recording from the echoes of my mind. Lately (read: since April) I had become dull and listless. Once again, I am breaking out of that shell, only to slip back into it by nightfall.
The solace of the morning used to comfort me. Now all I find in sunshine is despair. I wish my knowledge of syntactic theory (and thus, most linguistic theory) went beyond 1965-70. If only I had managed to successfully pass Syntax II, rather than take a 'W' from it, perhaps then my life would be different. Instead, I view myself as a partial failure. Senior year of college was all about making bad choices.
I still make bad choices. We all do. But, part of growing up is learning to accept the consequences. To most people, when I say Language Studies, they ask what it is, and when I explain it to them, they say "oh, so you have a degree in Linguistics?" and I facepalm. It is one of those facts which will irk me forever.
Speaking of things that will irk me forever, include my love life. At least twice now, I have had relationships that could have gone somewhere more long-term, and in fact one of them did, but I always pull out at the end. (Metaphorically, not literally). Apparently, I have intimacy issues, as I discovered while I was writing my term-paper for Adolescent Psychology on it. (It was really just answering some questions which amounted to a chapter review).
But, as usual, I digress. What does pulling out have to do with linguistics and sex? A lot, really. My last year of college, like the end of my relationships, was fraught with worry about commitments. I would, for lack of a better term, define myself as a commitment-phobe.
I'm not sure where any of this stems from. I'm not sure I'll ever be a complete person, or even half a person. Sixteen clumsy and shy, I went to London and I...that's the story of my life...
So, why do I keep a public blog detailing my life in the most blunt ways possible? I'm not sure. I know this, though: in the end, neither Jessica was right for me, and in the end, I don't think I had the intellectual fortitude to do well in Syntax II. I had mentally checked out, like I have now.
In less than 3 weeks (2 weeks from this thursday) I will be done with my second post-BA year. Hopefully, within the next month, I will have my CSET scores so I can find out whether or not I will have to go yet another semester (or possibly, year) without any purpose or direction. Perhaps I will, perhaps I will. I graduated high school nearly 6 years ago. And what have I done?
For every accomplishment we achieve there is usually a failure of (near) equivalent magnitude. For instance, I would like to think that for every awkward, ill-typed phrase found in these petty, pseudo-intellectual ramblings, there may be found a nugget of wisdom. As one may notice, I try to anchor these nuggets of wisdom within the framework of aphorisms. I may never be a philosopher, I may never be a real linguist, but, perhaps, I can be a second-rate historian.
No, I could be first-rate. If I only tried; If I only showed up that crucial, 80% of the time. But most of the time, I'm not even there.
but it feels like, someone's missing; yeah it feels like, someone's missing...
As usual, that someone is me. I need to stop being absent from my life. Today, the revolution begins a new...And thus, the love of authoritarianism is rekindled, hopeful to spark a new sensation.
There is so much looming on the horizon. What is to be done? I'm not sure, but I never was, either.
The solace of the morning used to comfort me. Now all I find in sunshine is despair. I wish my knowledge of syntactic theory (and thus, most linguistic theory) went beyond 1965-70. If only I had managed to successfully pass Syntax II, rather than take a 'W' from it, perhaps then my life would be different. Instead, I view myself as a partial failure. Senior year of college was all about making bad choices.
I still make bad choices. We all do. But, part of growing up is learning to accept the consequences. To most people, when I say Language Studies, they ask what it is, and when I explain it to them, they say "oh, so you have a degree in Linguistics?" and I facepalm. It is one of those facts which will irk me forever.
Speaking of things that will irk me forever, include my love life. At least twice now, I have had relationships that could have gone somewhere more long-term, and in fact one of them did, but I always pull out at the end. (Metaphorically, not literally). Apparently, I have intimacy issues, as I discovered while I was writing my term-paper for Adolescent Psychology on it. (It was really just answering some questions which amounted to a chapter review).
But, as usual, I digress. What does pulling out have to do with linguistics and sex? A lot, really. My last year of college, like the end of my relationships, was fraught with worry about commitments. I would, for lack of a better term, define myself as a commitment-phobe.
I'm not sure where any of this stems from. I'm not sure I'll ever be a complete person, or even half a person. Sixteen clumsy and shy, I went to London and I...that's the story of my life...
So, why do I keep a public blog detailing my life in the most blunt ways possible? I'm not sure. I know this, though: in the end, neither Jessica was right for me, and in the end, I don't think I had the intellectual fortitude to do well in Syntax II. I had mentally checked out, like I have now.
In less than 3 weeks (2 weeks from this thursday) I will be done with my second post-BA year. Hopefully, within the next month, I will have my CSET scores so I can find out whether or not I will have to go yet another semester (or possibly, year) without any purpose or direction. Perhaps I will, perhaps I will. I graduated high school nearly 6 years ago. And what have I done?
For every accomplishment we achieve there is usually a failure of (near) equivalent magnitude. For instance, I would like to think that for every awkward, ill-typed phrase found in these petty, pseudo-intellectual ramblings, there may be found a nugget of wisdom. As one may notice, I try to anchor these nuggets of wisdom within the framework of aphorisms. I may never be a philosopher, I may never be a real linguist, but, perhaps, I can be a second-rate historian.
No, I could be first-rate. If I only tried; If I only showed up that crucial, 80% of the time. But most of the time, I'm not even there.
but it feels like, someone's missing; yeah it feels like, someone's missing...
As usual, that someone is me. I need to stop being absent from my life. Today, the revolution begins a new...And thus, the love of authoritarianism is rekindled, hopeful to spark a new sensation.
There is so much looming on the horizon. What is to be done? I'm not sure, but I never was, either.