Let's Dance To Joy Division
I don't do anything smoothly. I am, above all, completely lacking grace. I stumble down alleyways wafting with the scent of pizza and toss Starbucks cups into open dumpsters.
I am finally on campus. I had avoided it "successfully" for 4 weeks. In my success I am now unprepared for a test. I have about 2 hours and 30 minutes to study for. I have taken 2 ativan. I take so many pills now. I have not taken any vitamins. I ate breakfast. I made eggs with spinach and chicken sausage that was quite savory and definitely meant for some sort of pasta. I baked potatoes last night so that all went on top of those. I decided in the last few days, as my many pills were finally kicking in, that I would start meal prep-ing. A trend as annoying as cross-fit but slightly more so than mason jars.
I took a gamble at which level was the one I used to like at the PCL. I am now surrounded by books on communism. I wanted the level with comics. I remember, somewhat fondly, escaping my responsibilities in a corner of the library checking out new comics. It was what I did through out middle school and high school at public libraries so there was no reason to stop the trend.
Now I escape responsibilities through art. Through blogging and going over my sketches in pen. I should have brought headphones. I am probably typing too loudly, but there are people I can hear speaking, so that has to be a level more disruptive. Or maybe not. There is usually a beat to speech. There is no assurance that I will type consistently. Not in a way that one can ignore. A light tick that fades into white noise.
Everyone is studying. Everyone has tests. I feel I'm so unprepared it's not worth it. I've had to admit to a lot of problems in the last year. I've had to claim my anxiety as a disability after weeks of laying inside the house. After ordering my groceries because I couldn't bear going to the HEB that is literally less than a block away. I've managed few engagements. One night of dancing. Everything is the Id. A lot of my life probably has been.
I should have taken classes on communism.
Instead I'm playing with contemporary Mexican art which is difficult on two ends because I don't have much experience with being a Mexican and I have even less experience appreciating the work of other artists in a cerebral way. Contextualizing and interpreting things is not my strong suit. I can, and will, bullshit my way through it, but I am growing tired of bullshitting my way through life. It feels like I'm not learning anything because things rarely stick. It's a cycle of taking in information briefly, just long enough to make something out of it, like a child handing over play-doh and demanding a creation. It's sloppy but it's better than the child could do and maybe a little better than other people would put into so it works. Then it's forgotten. Maybe not that day, but eventually. The intelligence is impermanent.
I feel so impermanent.
I am finally on campus. I had avoided it "successfully" for 4 weeks. In my success I am now unprepared for a test. I have about 2 hours and 30 minutes to study for. I have taken 2 ativan. I take so many pills now. I have not taken any vitamins. I ate breakfast. I made eggs with spinach and chicken sausage that was quite savory and definitely meant for some sort of pasta. I baked potatoes last night so that all went on top of those. I decided in the last few days, as my many pills were finally kicking in, that I would start meal prep-ing. A trend as annoying as cross-fit but slightly more so than mason jars.
I took a gamble at which level was the one I used to like at the PCL. I am now surrounded by books on communism. I wanted the level with comics. I remember, somewhat fondly, escaping my responsibilities in a corner of the library checking out new comics. It was what I did through out middle school and high school at public libraries so there was no reason to stop the trend.
Now I escape responsibilities through art. Through blogging and going over my sketches in pen. I should have brought headphones. I am probably typing too loudly, but there are people I can hear speaking, so that has to be a level more disruptive. Or maybe not. There is usually a beat to speech. There is no assurance that I will type consistently. Not in a way that one can ignore. A light tick that fades into white noise.
Everyone is studying. Everyone has tests. I feel I'm so unprepared it's not worth it. I've had to admit to a lot of problems in the last year. I've had to claim my anxiety as a disability after weeks of laying inside the house. After ordering my groceries because I couldn't bear going to the HEB that is literally less than a block away. I've managed few engagements. One night of dancing. Everything is the Id. A lot of my life probably has been.
I should have taken classes on communism.
Instead I'm playing with contemporary Mexican art which is difficult on two ends because I don't have much experience with being a Mexican and I have even less experience appreciating the work of other artists in a cerebral way. Contextualizing and interpreting things is not my strong suit. I can, and will, bullshit my way through it, but I am growing tired of bullshitting my way through life. It feels like I'm not learning anything because things rarely stick. It's a cycle of taking in information briefly, just long enough to make something out of it, like a child handing over play-doh and demanding a creation. It's sloppy but it's better than the child could do and maybe a little better than other people would put into so it works. Then it's forgotten. Maybe not that day, but eventually. The intelligence is impermanent.
I feel so impermanent.
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