Tuesday, April 2, 2013


It's clear: I am procrastinating. I'm listening to David Bowie on Pandora because he told me I could be a hero just for one day. Thx, Bowie. My life is so full of disorienting items. For the majority of my life, I have only lived on the cusp of reality. Recently, while visiting the Columbus Museum of Art (who rejected me for who I am), I found a Mark Rothko quote that goes, “There is no separation in the world of myths between reality and unreality”. Clearly, Rothko is drawing connections to his own human (or non-human) existence. Periods of my life have been abruptly interrupted by reality. This isn’t to say that I NECESSARILY live an irresponsible lifestyle. I’ll give an example. As an undergraduate, I spent my freshman and sophomore years dabbling in a few different majors. I have a lot of different interests in the humanities, so it was difficult for me, at such a young age, to pinpoint an exact determination of study. Once my junior year began, it finally occurred to me that I actually had to choose a major. That college would indeed come to an end, and that I would be going down a certain path, depending on the major that I select. This was no less than shocking. It was an actual, physical, shock to realize that college would indeed come to an end. That the next step in the trajectory of my existence would eventually occur. I've never understood trajectory. I've never understood how to feel the motions of life in front of me. Yesterday, I felt almost violent. I felt blood pumping through my body in a way that I had never felt. It was uncomfortable and disorienting; normal. It's an interesting way to live: on the cusp of reality. I don't know how else to exist. I'm at the library. Or am I?

1 comment:

Lars said...

SUPERB POST. inties who reject you for who you are ARE MAJOR JERKS and it's probably for the best because changing into a robot (for a corp, not for your greater good) is undesirable. Unless they have r2d2 costumes. trajectories are only a lil important.


everything's wild.