Let it out and move on, missing what's gone, said life carries on....
This is my first angsty post in a while; please forgive it.
I am having serious writers block. Which sucks when you're a writing major. Or maybe it's just that his assignment sucks because Interpretive Practices sucks. Who really needs literary theory?
The Date Auction info session went well - people seem pretty excited about it. Restaurants are not being too cool about helping us out with gift certificates. Reh indeed.
I think I like this kid and I'm thinking he's not really into me. Which really blows, because he's fuckin' awesome. Damn mixed signals. Damn having no balls. Damn having no idea what the hell to do. Damn getting differing advice from friends. Damn being in the bitter barn.
I think the one thing I love about the cold is the numbness it brings. It goes straight to my head and I get lost when I'm outside. I like to take the longest paths to school, sometimes retracing my paths if I have time. I like to watch people from the corner of my eyes - not the exciting ones jabbering on their cell phones, but the lonely ones. The girl who gets made fun of for wearing black makeup, stepping to the beat of the noise from her headphones. The professor who awkwardly says hello to his students on his way to Starbucks, who gets scoffed at for supporting "The Man." The homeless guy who is trying direct traffic and, at best, is being ignored. The androgynous person in a baseball cap and plaid pants, always jogging, slightly.
I like to think that I can one day write song lyrics or be able to recognize spices by smell or know every contour of someone's body. That one day I can say I've visited every major city in Europe or I have raised a child with good work ethic or I have saved a life. I like to think that I'll find someone who accepts every judgmental, shallow comment, as well as every intelligent, liberal-biased comment I make. I like to think my degrees won't be wasted, that I'll be able to come out to my family, that I will significantly contribute to some human rights movement. I like to think that's not idealism.
I hate to know it is.
I am having serious writers block. Which sucks when you're a writing major. Or maybe it's just that his assignment sucks because Interpretive Practices sucks. Who really needs literary theory?
The Date Auction info session went well - people seem pretty excited about it. Restaurants are not being too cool about helping us out with gift certificates. Reh indeed.
I think I like this kid and I'm thinking he's not really into me. Which really blows, because he's fuckin' awesome. Damn mixed signals. Damn having no balls. Damn having no idea what the hell to do. Damn getting differing advice from friends. Damn being in the bitter barn.
I think the one thing I love about the cold is the numbness it brings. It goes straight to my head and I get lost when I'm outside. I like to take the longest paths to school, sometimes retracing my paths if I have time. I like to watch people from the corner of my eyes - not the exciting ones jabbering on their cell phones, but the lonely ones. The girl who gets made fun of for wearing black makeup, stepping to the beat of the noise from her headphones. The professor who awkwardly says hello to his students on his way to Starbucks, who gets scoffed at for supporting "The Man." The homeless guy who is trying direct traffic and, at best, is being ignored. The androgynous person in a baseball cap and plaid pants, always jogging, slightly.
I like to think that I can one day write song lyrics or be able to recognize spices by smell or know every contour of someone's body. That one day I can say I've visited every major city in Europe or I have raised a child with good work ethic or I have saved a life. I like to think that I'll find someone who accepts every judgmental, shallow comment, as well as every intelligent, liberal-biased comment I make. I like to think my degrees won't be wasted, that I'll be able to come out to my family, that I will significantly contribute to some human rights movement. I like to think that's not idealism.
I hate to know it is.