Things are good, I think!
I can't really tell because I have this
ambient anxiety, but when I question it I realise I don't actually have
anything to worry about*. It's weird.
As for my ever-flowering writing career, I've
joined up on Jottify so if you want to feel some secondhand
embarrassment and read some of my stuff, go ahead.
It's hard not to be
embarrassed about the stuff I write, because there are so many feelings
and the grammar is always awkward and nothing is ever good enough. But
life's too short, right? A while ago The Onion had the headline
97-Year-Old Dies Unaware of Being Violin Prodigy. I found it oddly poignant. I don't want writing
to be an opportunity I missed out on because I desperately avoided the
temporary discomfort of feeling judged and vulnerable.** So there!
don't believe in jinxes, but this just feels like tempting the
universe. Don't be surprised if next post is about a gang of rabid
otters*** taking over my building.
**This is also why I'll never be a stripper, but I think that's a good thing.
***Joke shamelessly stolen from the amazing John Finnemore. And yes, this is a footnote within a footnote. It's a toenote.
ETA: I think I was being silly with the whole 'tempting the universe' thing. All is well. Give me a minute, someone's at the door. Oh look,
it's a friendly otter! It's so cute and whiskery. I wonder why there's
foam around its mouth though...
Thursday, September 22
Sunday, September 4
This is the first year in living memory that I haven't been a student. Even though it's been over nine months since my last exam or essay submission, I've mostly been wallowing in unemployed self-pity and / or existential angst too much to appreciate it until now.
But it's Spring, I've already gotten my first sunburn of the season, and the jasmine on the breeze makes me feel like I have superpowers. For the first time, the relief of warm weather isn't mixed with the ever-present anxiety that deadlines are clogging my schedule and exams are standing over my bed, staring gauntly at me like Richard Wright's American hunger*.
Of course, every now and then I miss my essay-writing ritual, which can be summarized in these steps:
- Procrastinate until roughly four hours before the deadline
- Cry deeply (like a BOSS)
- Sit down at the computer
- Grudgingly open a Word document
- Type one sentence, beginning with "In this essay, I will answer the essay question by arguing the position the essay question has suggested, thus answering the essay question."
- Hit Word Count with the irrational hope that it'll say 2500
- Decide I deserve a coffee break
- Repeat steps 5-7 until the last syllable of recorded time.
A part of me is melancholy with the thought that leaving student life behind is one giant leap on the one-way path to grownuphood. I'm saddened by seeing student events in my sidebar on facebook, knowing that I didn't get an invite to this or that cocktail party (to which I would've replied 'Maybe' when I really meant 'No',) because I'm not a student anymore, and I don't belong there.
But maybe I'm not a grownup yet either.
*If you don't get that reference, you have to read Richard Wright's Black Boy, which was originally titled American Hunger, one of the awesomest semi-autobiographical books, like, ever.**
**Why yes, I did just give you homework and use the word 'awesomest' in one sentence.