(no subject)
I have nearly ceased to attend one of my classes.
It's Professor Loeb's class.
I call her Loeb of doom.
It's not interesting or valuable or fun or, I feel, worthy of my time.
I'm paying for a class that's a complete and total waste of my time.
Should I go anyway?
P.S. It's at 9:10 in the morning... doesn't really motivate me to get up.
Ohhh well...
I wrote a sonnet in Hausa today.
It made me feel like I can still write, which is a good feeling; to be sure.
I wish I could put it on here, but it's pretty personal.
It happens.
Remember what I said about keeping things to myself?
It's working.
I hope I stay happy today.
I didn't yesterday.
It's cold.
I feel cute.
Imma right another sonnet right now.
I forgot to sit down by the river
And watch green leaves combust in neon flame
I missed the reds, the golds; intense colors
And all the warms so made by cold; a shame
Today the rain falls on trees cold and dead
The fire has been extinguished; all is gray
No crimson hues only ashes and lead
Damp, dank, and bitter cold, to my dismay
So now I wait with patient discontent
Til these cold winds bring beauty back again
A magnificent autumn came and went
Inspiration eludes til winter then
And like a fleeting moment autumn lost
Is my undoing; comes at such a cost
It's Professor Loeb's class.
I call her Loeb of doom.
It's not interesting or valuable or fun or, I feel, worthy of my time.
I'm paying for a class that's a complete and total waste of my time.
Should I go anyway?
P.S. It's at 9:10 in the morning... doesn't really motivate me to get up.
Ohhh well...
I wrote a sonnet in Hausa today.
It made me feel like I can still write, which is a good feeling; to be sure.
I wish I could put it on here, but it's pretty personal.
It happens.
Remember what I said about keeping things to myself?
It's working.
I hope I stay happy today.
I didn't yesterday.
It's cold.
I feel cute.
Imma right another sonnet right now.
I forgot to sit down by the river
And watch green leaves combust in neon flame
I missed the reds, the golds; intense colors
And all the warms so made by cold; a shame
Today the rain falls on trees cold and dead
The fire has been extinguished; all is gray
No crimson hues only ashes and lead
Damp, dank, and bitter cold, to my dismay
So now I wait with patient discontent
Til these cold winds bring beauty back again
A magnificent autumn came and went
Inspiration eludes til winter then
And like a fleeting moment autumn lost
Is my undoing; comes at such a cost