(no subject)
The birds are singing. The sun is shining! The fabled cherry blossoms of UW have come and gone. Yes, it is spring.
The knowledge is flowing. The classes are happening. The tests are Easy, with a capital easy. Yes, I am doing well.
Life is blooming; I’m well within my renaissance. And in a lot of ways, I’m as good as new. But as you may have realized by this point in the entry, not everything is as it once was. I’m sorry to say that I can no longer write well.
It’s horrible, I know. Yet after several months here back in school, I’ve produced next to nothing in the way of story, or synthesis, or anything literary or visionary. My life spiraled out of control a long time ago and I haven’t been able to grab hold of it again since. But I must try (else? Else what?).
So life is good, but some things are missing. It’s like I’ve become this messy yin and yang. On the one hand, I’m passing my classes easily. On the other, I don’t really care about the material, and I don’t know if I feel any closer to having accomplished something worthwhile in my life.
On the one hand, there are lots and lots of pretty women. Sometimes they talk to me, and smile! They make my head spin in all kinds of directions. But none of them will date me. Not even a kiss. Every night I sleep alone. Every night! Sometimes it gets too much.
On the one hand, I’ve recovered much of my vocabulary. I dazzle people with my fast diction and extensive knowledge of the world. Song pops out of my mouth everytime I find a bathroom or stairwell. Yet I can’t come up with anything to give meaning to my life. Nothing beautiful that I can keep, and point at, and say, look, that’s me!
On the on hand I’m in shape, and mentally fit! I come across almost all of the time as smart, and a lot of times even capable, or, heaven forbid, hard-working. On the other hand, if I go too long without contact with other people, I collapse into a ball and start shaking. At times like these I look like a mess and talk like my stream of consciousness has dried up into small puddles of monosyllabic nonsense. Oddly enough, the same thing happens when I go hungry for too many hours.
Mess! It’s a mess! And I’m trying to tell you about it, not so that you can fix it, but so that maybe it can fix itself into something I can grab a hold of and make my own. Yes I’m writing so that I can learn to write again. Please?
The knowledge is flowing. The classes are happening. The tests are Easy, with a capital easy. Yes, I am doing well.
Life is blooming; I’m well within my renaissance. And in a lot of ways, I’m as good as new. But as you may have realized by this point in the entry, not everything is as it once was. I’m sorry to say that I can no longer write well.
It’s horrible, I know. Yet after several months here back in school, I’ve produced next to nothing in the way of story, or synthesis, or anything literary or visionary. My life spiraled out of control a long time ago and I haven’t been able to grab hold of it again since. But I must try (else? Else what?).
So life is good, but some things are missing. It’s like I’ve become this messy yin and yang. On the one hand, I’m passing my classes easily. On the other, I don’t really care about the material, and I don’t know if I feel any closer to having accomplished something worthwhile in my life.
On the one hand, there are lots and lots of pretty women. Sometimes they talk to me, and smile! They make my head spin in all kinds of directions. But none of them will date me. Not even a kiss. Every night I sleep alone. Every night! Sometimes it gets too much.
On the one hand, I’ve recovered much of my vocabulary. I dazzle people with my fast diction and extensive knowledge of the world. Song pops out of my mouth everytime I find a bathroom or stairwell. Yet I can’t come up with anything to give meaning to my life. Nothing beautiful that I can keep, and point at, and say, look, that’s me!
On the on hand I’m in shape, and mentally fit! I come across almost all of the time as smart, and a lot of times even capable, or, heaven forbid, hard-working. On the other hand, if I go too long without contact with other people, I collapse into a ball and start shaking. At times like these I look like a mess and talk like my stream of consciousness has dried up into small puddles of monosyllabic nonsense. Oddly enough, the same thing happens when I go hungry for too many hours.
Mess! It’s a mess! And I’m trying to tell you about it, not so that you can fix it, but so that maybe it can fix itself into something I can grab a hold of and make my own. Yes I’m writing so that I can learn to write again. Please?