This is the Dawning of the Rest of Our Lives
I've never felt so overworked and simultaneously useless. What's my contribution going to be to this stupid world? I'm a moderately-talented writer, but it's occurring to me, nomatter how well you write, your depictions of the world and subsequent influences are always severely limited.
For a while, my motivations as a writer were completely off, which lead to lackluster work. I think this is why I abandoned fiction way back when for poetry... I could be thoroughly invested in mystery, I could create the mystery that hinted at something more, but I could rarely create a world.
If this semester has been worth the work, it's because I've finally learned how to write. I've learned how to listen to the characters I create, instead of forcing words into their mouths. I've learned to let my characters live independently of me, and my writing frequently surprises me as of late. I've also learned how to reconcile my propensity for poetry with other writing forms. It's prolly safe to say I've never enjoyed writing this much in all my life.
Which is good, because sooner than later I'm going to have to start thinking about grad school and all that jazz. At least I have some direction. Some. Maybe. Ah, who am I kidding.
Thanks to all who sent me happy birthday wishes for my 21st a few weeks ago. I really appreciated it- a lot of people remembered, it was nice. In some ways, due largely to the efforts of my girlfriend, it was the best birthday I've ever had.
I'm becoming way too psuedo-existentialist, and it's gradually seeping into my writing, my everyday thoughts, and even my everyday conversations.
In some ways this has been the semester of repeated lost opportunities. I really wish I could have seen Green Day when they came to Binghamton. I really wish I had gone out once downtown this semester. I didn't even get appropriately trashed for my 21st birthday, completely foregoing the usual ritual marking the transition from hapless kid to hapless-kid-with-drinking-privileges. But fortunately the utter chaos of Albany redeemed things to the point where I think I received a semester's worth of debauchery in one weekend. It's a little depressing to think about all the fun I missed out on this semester. At the same time, next semester has so much potential and promise it's unbelievable.
I'm well aware of the irony of the situation. My experiences at Binghamton get progressively better and better, and when they reach their very best, that's when it will come to an abrupt end. If I were rich I'd totally stay in college for the hell of it.
LiveJournal is so masturbatory. There's nowhere in life we can get away with just babbling endlessly about ourselves and our so-called "deep thoughts" (outside of counseling, god I miss counseling) so we resort to this forum of emotion release and self-satisfaction. It's masturbation without the mess. Well, maybe with the mess.
I've had so much work this semester, I've been forced to ignore some very important friendships. Honestly, there was a four week period during which I never got more than four hours of sleep per night. I hope that once this crazy semester ends, somehow I can re-establish my connections with people. Remove yourself from the world and sometimes it's difficult finding that elusive loophole back in...
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives.
For a while, my motivations as a writer were completely off, which lead to lackluster work. I think this is why I abandoned fiction way back when for poetry... I could be thoroughly invested in mystery, I could create the mystery that hinted at something more, but I could rarely create a world.
If this semester has been worth the work, it's because I've finally learned how to write. I've learned how to listen to the characters I create, instead of forcing words into their mouths. I've learned to let my characters live independently of me, and my writing frequently surprises me as of late. I've also learned how to reconcile my propensity for poetry with other writing forms. It's prolly safe to say I've never enjoyed writing this much in all my life.
Which is good, because sooner than later I'm going to have to start thinking about grad school and all that jazz. At least I have some direction. Some. Maybe. Ah, who am I kidding.
Thanks to all who sent me happy birthday wishes for my 21st a few weeks ago. I really appreciated it- a lot of people remembered, it was nice. In some ways, due largely to the efforts of my girlfriend, it was the best birthday I've ever had.
I'm becoming way too psuedo-existentialist, and it's gradually seeping into my writing, my everyday thoughts, and even my everyday conversations.
In some ways this has been the semester of repeated lost opportunities. I really wish I could have seen Green Day when they came to Binghamton. I really wish I had gone out once downtown this semester. I didn't even get appropriately trashed for my 21st birthday, completely foregoing the usual ritual marking the transition from hapless kid to hapless-kid-with-drinking-privileges. But fortunately the utter chaos of Albany redeemed things to the point where I think I received a semester's worth of debauchery in one weekend. It's a little depressing to think about all the fun I missed out on this semester. At the same time, next semester has so much potential and promise it's unbelievable.
I'm well aware of the irony of the situation. My experiences at Binghamton get progressively better and better, and when they reach their very best, that's when it will come to an abrupt end. If I were rich I'd totally stay in college for the hell of it.
LiveJournal is so masturbatory. There's nowhere in life we can get away with just babbling endlessly about ourselves and our so-called "deep thoughts" (outside of counseling, god I miss counseling) so we resort to this forum of emotion release and self-satisfaction. It's masturbation without the mess. Well, maybe with the mess.
I've had so much work this semester, I've been forced to ignore some very important friendships. Honestly, there was a four week period during which I never got more than four hours of sleep per night. I hope that once this crazy semester ends, somehow I can re-establish my connections with people. Remove yourself from the world and sometimes it's difficult finding that elusive loophole back in...
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives.