Mood:big 3-d billboards and big THIRTY FOOT SMURFS
Music:The Presidents of the United States of America - Naked and Famous
Those lucky bastards, the didn't have to work
Ok, so I spared you a bit on this entry. I could've made it about ten times as huge as it is (nevermind the links no one will click; they're mostly optional). All this from a paragraph in a research paper. So, what do I do with myself? Grad school? Become a researcher? Write books that sell 2,000 copies, mostly to academics? Or become a writer, and write stuff that fires my imagination (I'm still way proud of the way that worked out, what with tying all of the micro-mythos together so neatly) and sell millions of books, though maybe not until after I'm dead (e.g. Robert E. Howard, Philip K. Dick, lots of other famous dead guys)? Or PLAN C?!! I totally don't know what I want to do with myself in 6 months. I'm going to try to see my advisor during his office hours this week and see what he can tell me about grad school. I feel like I have too much wrok going on to start thinking about this stuff. Blah.
I would love to do advanced degrees for some time in the future. One for writing/English, one for psychology, and one for my secret (and forbidden!) love; philosophy. Because no one ever got rich as a philosopher, right? But shit, I was born to drop ontological bombs on your eschatological paradigms. An' shit. Actually, my true secret (and forbidden!!) desire is to become a philosopher/rapper. But don't tell anyone.
Over dinner this Thanksgiving: "I dropped a phat record all about solipsism. It's got crazy hits on it; but you've never heard it because I only made one copy." Yes, I actually said [words to that effect].