i'm still the optomist, though it is hard, when all you want to be is in a dream
i sat at the diningroom table, my hands and a van gogh coffee mug contrasting against the pure white tablecloth. it seemed that my hands and this mug were all that i saw for miles. i just found out that i did worse than i thought this semester. worse than i thought means pretty bad. the apathy's choking grip is gone for now, but i'm certainly feeling the consequences. i wrote to my advisor--who has my highest respect as one of the only competant professors i've met at castleton, or so it seems--and he told me it was really no big deal, and that i'd pick up some extra courses next semester and we'd deal with the rest of it when i got back. he told me he thought i'd be one of "our shining stars in this department in a couple years" (psychology). it's nice to have someone on your side. someone who has faith in you.
he told me i had some work to do, and assigned me a paper for good measure. before i sat down to do it i needed a cup of coffee.
"here you go, honey. take the van gogh mug for inspiration," said my mom. i looked at her like she had ten heads, but i wasnt sure why that was so weird to me at the time. i understood what she meant. get inspired by art. by a print of one of van gogh's many sunflower studies, commercially wrapped around a coffee mug.
sitting in my abyss of bleach white, i looked at my hands. one is mis-shapen on one side, and i'm fairly positive i dislocated one of my digits. the other loosely holds the handle of a mug. then i realized why it was weird that she gave me van gogh's work for inspiration. especially at such a time. van gogh became fed up with his depression and shot himself in a field. truly inspiring, mom. thanks.
p.s.- who wants to come to the hospital with me tomorrow so i can get my finger checked out?
p.p.s.- i decided that there is a great discontinuity, in my mind anyway, between my ideal future and my current means of achieving that future. i need to look at work as a means to achieve goals rather than a hinderence or an irrelevant task. i really have been pretty immature about work. i feel dumb.
p.p.p.s.- oh yeah, happy new year.
he told me i had some work to do, and assigned me a paper for good measure. before i sat down to do it i needed a cup of coffee.
"here you go, honey. take the van gogh mug for inspiration," said my mom. i looked at her like she had ten heads, but i wasnt sure why that was so weird to me at the time. i understood what she meant. get inspired by art. by a print of one of van gogh's many sunflower studies, commercially wrapped around a coffee mug.
sitting in my abyss of bleach white, i looked at my hands. one is mis-shapen on one side, and i'm fairly positive i dislocated one of my digits. the other loosely holds the handle of a mug. then i realized why it was weird that she gave me van gogh's work for inspiration. especially at such a time. van gogh became fed up with his depression and shot himself in a field. truly inspiring, mom. thanks.
p.s.- who wants to come to the hospital with me tomorrow so i can get my finger checked out?
p.p.s.- i decided that there is a great discontinuity, in my mind anyway, between my ideal future and my current means of achieving that future. i need to look at work as a means to achieve goals rather than a hinderence or an irrelevant task. i really have been pretty immature about work. i feel dumb.
p.p.p.s.- oh yeah, happy new year.