kampers.net

This is an attempt to start writing again, kind of like how you pull really hard on that rope to jumpstart a lawnmower. And then you have to mow the lawn immediately, because it’s sitting there in your garage, internally combusting, and you don’t want to waste any gas. I have a huge backyard.

You know when you’re trying to eat and read at the same time, and you bring your fork to your mouth expecting a bite and you close your lips around the empty tines, and you look down, disappointed? That’s what it’s like trying to start a career in neuroscience and spending all your time at the radio station.

Concrete shoes: this semester is going way too fast. It’s almost over. All the sudden there won’t be any more time to turn in late assignments. There will be finals. I will probably get the first bad grades of my life. What’s so different about this semester? You give it your all, and all that you get is tired.

I had this vision of going to grad school and making important theoretical discoveries and getting a doctorate, etc. That doesn’t seem so right any more. I don’t want to be in school any more. No one understands our universe, and that is beautiful and sad, and how presumptuous of me to have wanted to try. #