Every so often, I find something that reminds me of why I wanted to be a scholar in the first place.
I'm working on a final paper, and as usual I'm behind and it probably won't be nearly as good as it needs to be -- but right now I don't care, because I am up to my hips in the debate over biographical readings of John Donne's poetry, and I'm just so excited because after all, all those poets wrote about love, but Donne was the one who gave everything for love. And it's just so damned exciting!
There is the most beautiful boy sitting at a computer in the library. I just keep sneaking longing looks at him.
In some ways, I wish I had the balls to go talk to him. But frankly, I'm kinda grateful I'm too smart for that.
I thought about going to talk to the beautiful boy, but I was chicken, and I waited too long, and he left.
Good judgment triumphs in spite of myself.
Exactly why I ever thought it would be a good idea to go talk to some self-absorbed undergrad who probably knows he's cute is beyond me.
My head hurts like fuck.
It drives me crazy that people don't understand that I have a shred of self-awareness. Most of the time I'm damned aware that I'm contradicting myself.
And I'm tired of everyone telling me what to do. I can't tell you how mad I got last weekend when I explained my current thoughts on religion and God (somewhat similar to the ones expressed in Garth Ennis' Preacher) and Leah, my brother's girlfriend, promptly told me that I needed to go to church and all my problems would go away if I went to church.
Bullshit. (But her judgment's somewhat questionable already -- she seems to think that my ill-mannered, self-centered brother is a good boyfriend.)
I'm going home to read for my paper, eat junk food, get drunk, and cuddle the cat -- all at the same time, of course
What is it about me that irritates people so much?