I need some. I love school. I love going there. I love learning. I love having homework to do (usually). I love the idea of taking science classes soon, and playing with physics so I can see what this whole kinesiology/physical therapy thing is going to mean to me. I still love psychology and want to be psychology still, even though I thought maybe I was over it and this was just the easiest way to get a degree wrapped up quickly. I still want to know what makes people tick. Or twitch, whichever may be the case.
And lately? When the city is digging up the end of my driveway with a jackhammer and blocking my street so I can’t come home? I just want to sit at school in the english building or the art building because they’re so quiet and I can think there. But I don’t want to sit and write papers on Freud or Adler. I want to sit there and write poetry and create something you can’t touch. Except for the piece of paper and the ink. You can touch those. But the poetry you can’t really touch.
I guess the problem isn’t that I’m not inspired. It’s that I’m inspired by the wrong kinds of things right now. Maybe that’s ok. Maybe wanting other things that aren’t really part of the long term plan are ok, so long as I keep moving forward, and find time to write papers on old dead guys I like reading about but am sick of writing about.


Talk to me