According to a Scientific American podcast, "time" is the most used word in the English language. Time is an awful thing really. It wasn't as important before the Industrial Revolution, which is when time-based sports like football and basketball became popular, whereas baseball, an untimed game, is a farm sport. But I digress.
I've been thinking about my time and how I've been spending (or wasting) it. All I care about lately is roller derby and relationships. I'd rather spend my time skating than anything else. And I spend a bit too much time worrying about men and the effects certain ones have on my life.
One thing I don't spend enough time on is my school work. I spend the times I should be in class, sleeping. I spend the time I should be studying anf reading, drinking and playing video games. For instance, I have a test and a paper due on Friday, but I;m going to rush them early so I can spend Thursday night at Eastside's karaoke contest. Because that's more important to me.
This lack of "class time" is going to effect what I'm doing with my time in the future. If I don't get my grades up, I will get kicked out of school. I will have to move back home with my parents and I will have to give up derby because of that. My realization is that how I spend my time now directly determines my future times. If I don't use my time effectively, I won't get to have any fun later.
And this brings me back to relationships. As I am getting older, I start to think about settling down after graduation. If I start seeing someone now, especially someone older, by the time I graduate we'll have been together for a year and a half. Settling ready, right? The problem is, right now I'm not ready to settle. Though I want to be in a relationship, once I get in one all I can see are the the things and men I can't have. I don't want to miss out on any time I could spend with someone. But at the same time, what about the time I could spend in love?
I recently decided that I want to spend my time in social servitude, a career where you aren't paid nearly enough for your time. Either teaching the forgotten or just doing all I can to better the lives of the lower class. "Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." I'm not sure what God ans time have in store for me, I think that's what scares me the most.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
A bit of Non-fiction
There is a girl in my literature class who I think I would despise. I have deducted that she is a poet; she has a knowledge of Frost and the different styles like iambic pentameter and couplets and all that. Her eye make-up is always smudged and she wears fake nails, dirty brown shoes and a hoodie. The nails don't make sense with the rest of her. Her hair is always a nappy mess. Today she is wearing two hoodies: a navy one and her everyday-worn brown hoodie with mushroom print lining.
I see her falling in love with some phony old English professor, like the one played by Donald Sutherland in "Animal House" who is actually full of shit but she thinks he is so deep and "gets her."
She seems like the type of girl who would totally take herself and her writing so seriously, but it is actually so mundane and typical. Like the "poetry" we all wrote when we were sixteen. Like Jewel's book of poems. A line of Shel Silverstein's poems are deeper than all the pages of her Mead notebook combined.
She probably thinks she isn't understood or appreciated for the creative, delicate flower she is. But then again, she may think her loneliness is good for her writing.
She makes notes of everything the professor says, which plays a part in my affair suspicions. I don't think she would have an affair with this professor though; he isn't some pot-smoking romantic-era bullshitter, not at all like the theoretical professor I described before.
She will never be a Dylan Thomas (<3) or a realist like T.S. Eliot, she will write forever in mediocrity. She reads too much into symbolism in stories, which tells me her poems are probably full of symbols and metaphors. But like the way she misreads symbols in class, her poems are probably all wrong. Her constant note-taking tells me she doesn't form these ideas on her own, that she constantly cares about what others. But alas, like this tragic main character, perhaps I am reading too much into it.
But then again, the other day in class she just started reading another student's test answers, so I really think I am right.
I see her falling in love with some phony old English professor, like the one played by Donald Sutherland in "Animal House" who is actually full of shit but she thinks he is so deep and "gets her."
She seems like the type of girl who would totally take herself and her writing so seriously, but it is actually so mundane and typical. Like the "poetry" we all wrote when we were sixteen. Like Jewel's book of poems. A line of Shel Silverstein's poems are deeper than all the pages of her Mead notebook combined.
She probably thinks she isn't understood or appreciated for the creative, delicate flower she is. But then again, she may think her loneliness is good for her writing.
She makes notes of everything the professor says, which plays a part in my affair suspicions. I don't think she would have an affair with this professor though; he isn't some pot-smoking romantic-era bullshitter, not at all like the theoretical professor I described before.
She will never be a Dylan Thomas (<3) or a realist like T.S. Eliot, she will write forever in mediocrity. She reads too much into symbolism in stories, which tells me her poems are probably full of symbols and metaphors. But like the way she misreads symbols in class, her poems are probably all wrong. Her constant note-taking tells me she doesn't form these ideas on her own, that she constantly cares about what others. But alas, like this tragic main character, perhaps I am reading too much into it.
But then again, the other day in class she just started reading another student's test answers, so I really think I am right.
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