January 18th, 2006

The Wreck of You

We've all got wounds to clean; here's a rag, here's some gasoline

I'm apparently very eloquent in class, but not possessed of the particular kind of intelligence that can answer directly to a test. I think this is the first time I've ever been told that my answers were too long. All my life it's been, "a little short" or "can you expand on that?" Brevity and concision have been my enemies, though the hallmarks of my writing. Now that I've cast them aside in favor of long-winded academic writing, I'm wrong again. It is a box from which there is no escape. No matter which side of the bars I'm on, I seem to be locked inside this cage.

If I can pull out a B on this course by not bombing the final, I'll have six credits between me and a damn degree.

"Looking through a pile of garbage
for some worthless piece of paper
that's been hidden there for me
to give meaning to my day."

I'm definitely going to need to talk to career services about a lab job. I already e-mailed my prof in the sleep lab and asked her for recommendations/help. This is going to be an interesting two years what I've got coming up.
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    Hum - Green to Me