:: blame the extended gestation.... ::"If I start describing what I want to do, i'll end up not seeing the point in doing it." Blogging on Politics, Music, and culture... | |
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:: Monday, April 01, 2002 :: That ever important question when looking at the clock at 6 am when you're supposed to get up at 10 am... do I keep trying to sleep or just give up and start my post-spring break as I ended the pre. Exhausted. Hey it adds that special spice to the day you do have to admit. On another...an...other. Hey check that out. Nevermind...on another note the blue ribbon panel I set up to decide the most appropriate plan of action for filling the next 40 years of drab boring and existentially unavoidable angst has come to an interesting breakthrough. I think it had something to do with my creative output and lack of intellectual output over spring break... I successfully wrote 4 songs and got some decent work on that play I begot from the gods and got very little work at all on my research paper because it may be interesting to me but is not enjoyable in the I wanna wanna wanna. What with the only 3 going arguments for the universe leaving me either in a place of perpetual expansion where everything goes black, in a state of stagnant circling, or in one really big crunch... i’m starting to see that improving the educational understanding (for myself and the market of ideas) isn’t the thing that gonna keep me enticed into productively sticking around since my endeavors have always been (or should I say began) in showing “them” that “they” aren’t the “good” people “they” claim “they” are, not in finding how “I” am (cause I’m not) or could better be “good” people...whatever that means. So I go to option...errr wait what am I on now.... e I believe. M.F.A in creative writing, where I get to work on that novel thingy i’ve been thinking about and if it does poorly well I can teach other people to fail miserably doing what they love. And its that economic stability that really is the sticking point, gotta teach something in the end I guess--i’m so not rebellious-- living in someone’s closet just doesn’t seem like “fun” at least knowing my neurotransmitters. I was reading this interview with Michael Chabonearlier and it all kinda fell into place. That smack you upside the head so hard it turns ya purple (purple like the dinosaur not that transparent lollipop purple) and makes you say, “well gee i’ve known that for a while now, why’d it take me so long to admit it to myself”. If I'm gonna go into debt for grad school it should be doing something crazy and stupid and fun(ny) not something that constantly reminds me how crazy stupid and (un)fun(ny) most you people are.
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