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Folsom Prison - Salvador Dali in a lawn chair.
I'm invisible without 3D glasses.
Folsom Prison
I've been commenting more than posting lately. It's odd, because I've got about twenty topics I've wanted to write about and written little synopses down on scraps of notebook paper so I could write them later.

I have continued to write in my paper journal fairly regularly, which feels good, and those entries are both little snippets of ideas and well-formed, thoughtful arguments and reflections.

Ginger Garrison listened to one entry the other day in kesterly's truck on the way up to Memphis and asked me if I would let her use a few to print in the New Albany Gazette local color section. I'd retain the rights to my stuff and it would be nice to be published. I'm thinking about it. I know she's pretty desperate for local contributions since the general manager is pushing for the local color section to become a pseudo-literary magazine.

Jimmy and I have been spending the last couple of days alone together. We haven't done something special every night. Most of the night's we've just worked side-by-side on our websites or eaten dinner together, but it's been nice to have the house to ourselves and to just be together. We made an immaculate dinner on Monday night (roast beef, fresh corn, au gratin potatoes). We had a bit of a rough week last week, snippy over everything, and even though we didn't have to make amends, it's still nice for the extra time.

I have a Greek history class in a few hours and a lot of research to do for my Chinese Revolution class and a java program due on Friday that might pose some trouble. What's funny is that my diploma came in yesterday and the satisfaction only lasted for a couple of minutes because I convinced myself that I didn't deserve it, that I could do so much more if I put my mind to it, that I'm not educated or skilled enough to have a job that actually uses my degree, that I have to go to school some more (but on a higher level) to specialize enough to get a decent job using my schooling.

But I only somewhat want to use my schoolin'. I keep thinking that I should have started a long time ago on a completely different path, had the guts to go directly into writing or art rather than telling myself I wasn't good enough or that it wasn't a noble enough of a profession. I have this idealized view of an academic life, even though I'm pretty convinced I don't have the discipline to follow an academic life.

I am happiest when I'm building or creating something, but I'm not trained enough or skilled enough to do them. So I'm left to plug along at an amateur level or to continue into a profession that I have a background in.

Ugh, enough about this.

mood: should be asleep
music: Johnny Cash - "Folsom Prison"

1 Quiet Voice | Lift Your Voice Aloft
birdofparadox From: birdofparadox Date: September 23rd, 2004 01:24 pm (UTC) (link)
Chinese Revolution sounds like a good band.
1 Quiet Voice | Lift Your Voice Aloft