I was almost a photography major. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I had a horrible grade in the class, it was boring as hell, and I spent the whole semester wishing I had the balls to talk to this marginally hot girl that sat two seats away from me. I think one time I got the balls to sit next to her and said, “How’s it going?” or something equally innocuous, and that was the extent of our relations. When I was younger I didn’t know the first thing about approaching girls. I still don’t know the first thing about approaching girls. But times were different back then, somehow. All I did was skateboard and drink cheap vodka and show up late for my 8:30 calculus class. That was pretty much the extent of my days.
Now I study Spanish — sorry, Hispanic Studies — and I still have no idea what the hell I want to do. Know what I really want to do? Move to a deserted island. This is an actual fantasy of mine. Move to a deserted island, learn to live off the land, and forget my name. Obviously this will never happen, because just like I didn’t have the balls to talk to that girl in my photography class, I don’t have the balls to buy a plane ticket to Tahiti, make a boat out of beer kegs and styrofoam, and sail until I find an island with no people on it or accidentally make it all the way to Antarctica. More balls is what I need, I guess. Maybe I should start drinking Red Bull. Apparently taurine is made from bull testicles. And though I know this is not true, maybe it would give me more balls anyway.
Writing has taken on a new place in my life for me. I don’t despise it anymore like I did after working for The Stranger. It’s fun for me now. I don’t devote very much time to it, but now it’s fun. The quality has probably deteriorated. I don’t proofread as much. I don’t revise as much. There aren’t really common themes, and it’s basically one big cluster-fuck of paragraphs made up of disparate ideas strung together to form sort of an adult baby babble. But it’s fun.
Tomorrow is another week. Wake up early. Do some push ups. Bike to school. Don’t be hungover. Try hard. Be nice. Speak clearly. Treat others as you want to be treated. Go skateboarding. Eat healthy. Eat Thai food. Eat spicy food. Run. Bike. Get some exercise. Make sure you sweat. Healthy sweat. Healthy beads. Good beads.
This entry was written by , posted on November 30, 2009 at 12:46 am, filed under Writingz and tagged en un mundo descomunal, siento tu fragilidad. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.