I’m trying valiantly to study for my media law quiz tomorrow, but it just ain’t happening. All I want to do is drink plantation mist tea and draw pictures of lighthouses, trenchcoats, fedoras and sailboats. I want to dig out my Sam and Max comic book and do some firearm studies, maybe learn how to draw a stunning pair of crossed legs.
Sigh. Watch out, this is coming clear out of nowhere:
I must note that I don’t feel my level of college suffering is much worse than anyone else’s… it’s just that other students don’t have the words nor the forum in which to organize and argue against their captors. I have placed upon myself the burden of vocalizing the restless souls of kids that yet feel unfulfilled in college. When it gets down to it I really enjoy this burden. It’s cathartic, it’s chopping wood, it’s using tools I gleaned from the Collegiate Machine against it, and it has a kind of romantic deception to it. Call me Herakles. I’m gonna learn everything I can from my master, and end up killing the poor bastard.
I’ve been grappling with the problem since freshman year (a handwritten 100 page journal started at the tail end of 1999, and the two that followed, is evidence of this) and though I have made little progress in making myself more content, I’ve made significant headway in developing an unfortunate anti-college manifesto. However, all effort has not been lost, quite to the contrary. I did make myself much more marketable by changing my major from jazz to writing. While my future is still uncertain, it will now hopefully involve minimal intimate contact with gutters.
I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance what seems like ages ago (I think it was only a year), and while it wasn’t the greatest book and didn’t shatter my world like all the praise said it would, it gave a few pages on college that were worth thinking about. I wish I had the book right now so I could review those pages, a bit wiser, to see if I still hold them as true as I did then.
Honestly, I don’t want to be miserable in my environment, and if I could find some way to reconcile my passions with college, I would do so in a heartbeat. In first grade we were supposed to draw Johnny Appleseed. I drew him getting eaten by a venus fly trap. In third grade I asked my teacher why, when we changed seating charts, I was always in back. She said it was because I was always drawing and listening at the same time. While I was able to draw all day and still do an excellent job in school, if other kids were to follow my example they might have been less fortunate. Junior high offered art classes as an outlet, high school had heavy involvement in the music program, and I still need to strike the balance in college. After nearly three years at the anvil, crudely hammering away at molten thoughts, I’ve found little commonality that naturally brings my two worlds together.
I love the people of college. I love my friends, I love Wooch! I love the nerds, I love the hotties in the hallway that make me quirl, I love my professors… I love how college gives me an excuse to chill with all these great people with interests that can be so similar and so different from my own. Yet I hate the things that dominate my time and distract me from the people. While I do enjoy alone-time, and would quickly go crazy with people jabbering around me 24 hours a day, too often alone-time becomes synonymous with homework-time in college. It’s either people, homework or sleeping. Lately with me, it is thinking about doing homework, distracting self with more interesting work, sleeping.
Beckons. Media Law. Heidegger. News Editing. Spin the roulette wheel and decide which one will get done tonight.