My brain. So hard to tame, that animal.It’s like a record player that skips and skips, regardless of the youth of the record playing. Better yet, it’s like my record player that also played tapes and cds– each function operates to a decent extent but none perfectly. Lyrics, or thoughts, difficult to decipher completely.
Can we all truly follow our desires and get to where we wanna be? I seem to be attempting to do so but progress is out of sight for a long long time. Regardless of whether or not intended things are gained from what I’ve done, I’ve got balls to be in my situation; and I can live with that.
I’m at the beginning of my fourth year in college with a recently change of major; philosophy, one of those “risk-taking” majors– you know, the humanities. I’m holding little-known, much less spoken-of, dreams. I just wanna do some amazing shit, become relatively well off and change lives– that of which 90% of my generation believes they have potential to do. From time to time my mind convinces itself that I could create an award winning novel if I were to try, regardless of how much I haven’t written. My conscious has a habit of eating at me about not doing what I feel. To which I reply; “write? you want me to write? okay, I’ll just slip some time in for that after going to class, work, doing homework and attempting to get five hours of sleep each night.” “Oh you have time for me,” she replies. I assure her that I will soon put (finding somewhere to wash the two loads of laundry in my car, attempting to live of of the bare minimal, studying as much as my brain will allow me, the shit-show of a social life I have, dodging the bug bites and creepy occurrences in my house) all of my mortal responsibilities on the back burner so I can write shit that may never even be finished, much less read.I don’t even care to read anything that my mind produced, but I know that writing will help me function better in general. So maybe I should focus less on long term success and more on day-to-day success. Maybe it’s the same thing. Maybe..