there will be small rains.
Mar. 5th, 2011 01:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
levityThings I love about this week, sick as I may be:
All these kids running around and yelling and acting like their energy and their hyped-up ideals will actually do things for other people, and maybe even believing it. Not having political convictions, because having political convictions makes you inflexible. Our FCH session and not being a cookie. Thea Pascasio asking if Robin van Persie really did have glass ankles. Cleaning house and grocery shopping and finally paying our electric bill. Hope being the thing with wings, if you like. Billy, Allison, Vince, Ginnie, Ellie, the third floor of the med library, and not studying. Buttercup as an operatic aria. Utilitarianism and hedonism. Pestering Orven and Madison about their Indonesia trip and their packing at twelve-thirty in the morning. The myriad ways of snatching the stuff of Joshua Torres. Going through one whole week without feeling the pressing need to commit suicide. Arsenal winning against Leyton Orient 5-0, and Nicklas Bendtner justifying everything he's ever said. Ray Bradbury's essays. Domestic Crisis.
Things I hate about this week, or, to be more accurate, things that I would hate about this week if only I had the energy:
The sniffling. The fact that Bio30 has not yet ceased to exist. All these kids running around acting like their gradeschool idealism and their generic platitudes actually mean something. The way that not wanting to get out means ending up not writing. That being the sensible one entails being the perenially-critical one, and that that probably won't change in the near future. Robin van Persie and Pep Guardiola being injured. Not being able to see myself as a doctor anymore- but, to be fair, that was a long time coming. The fact that my dreams no longer involve novels and public health miracles but being alive for long enough to watch Arsenal win the Champions League. Failing failing failing.
All these kids running around and yelling and acting like their energy and their hyped-up ideals will actually do things for other people, and maybe even believing it. Not having political convictions, because having political convictions makes you inflexible. Our FCH session and not being a cookie. Thea Pascasio asking if Robin van Persie really did have glass ankles. Cleaning house and grocery shopping and finally paying our electric bill. Hope being the thing with wings, if you like. Billy, Allison, Vince, Ginnie, Ellie, the third floor of the med library, and not studying. Buttercup as an operatic aria. Utilitarianism and hedonism. Pestering Orven and Madison about their Indonesia trip and their packing at twelve-thirty in the morning. The myriad ways of snatching the stuff of Joshua Torres. Going through one whole week without feeling the pressing need to commit suicide. Arsenal winning against Leyton Orient 5-0, and Nicklas Bendtner justifying everything he's ever said. Ray Bradbury's essays. Domestic Crisis.
Things I hate about this week, or, to be more accurate, things that I would hate about this week if only I had the energy:
The sniffling. The fact that Bio30 has not yet ceased to exist. All these kids running around acting like their gradeschool idealism and their generic platitudes actually mean something. The way that not wanting to get out means ending up not writing. That being the sensible one entails being the perenially-critical one, and that that probably won't change in the near future. Robin van Persie and Pep Guardiola being injured. Not being able to see myself as a doctor anymore- but, to be fair, that was a long time coming. The fact that my dreams no longer involve novels and public health miracles but being alive for long enough to watch Arsenal win the Champions League. Failing failing failing.
