Regrets abound.
As I near the end of my Oberlin career, such as it is, sometimes I wish I were a better person. Like, the kind of person who would get a term paper in on time. Or the kind of person who can tell plausible, entertaining falsities which people will believe...Or at least the kind of person who knows when others are lying to me for fun. I always think I can tell, until I interact with someone who's a good liar. Then, it takes me at least an hour after we part ways. It's actually a personal point of pride that I rarely lie unless I really need to. This is because, at least at Oberlin, only extremely drunk AND stoned first-years would even believe my casual lies (case in point: last weekend.)
I feel like my art is getting weirder. Scratch that, I KNOW my art is getting weirder. "Personal art" aside, there is such a thing as being too personal. Or unmarketable. Or just plain ol' creepy. Maybe once I get into some modicum of formal training again, I'll be able to put these undercurrents where they belong. In a box. Marked "Pandora's box." Shit.
I'll be back in Philly soon, looking for a goddamn job. If I don't stop writing now this is going to turn into just a stream of curses. I'll be better once finals is over.
I feel like my art is getting weirder. Scratch that, I KNOW my art is getting weirder. "Personal art" aside, there is such a thing as being too personal. Or unmarketable. Or just plain ol' creepy. Maybe once I get into some modicum of formal training again, I'll be able to put these undercurrents where they belong. In a box. Marked "Pandora's box." Shit.
I'll be back in Philly soon, looking for a goddamn job. If I don't stop writing now this is going to turn into just a stream of curses. I'll be better once finals is over.