I'm home after the best semester of my life. I've matured (I shave daily) and I've gained some invaluable confidence in the direction I'm headed. I look back on the days of yore and consider how out of one's mind someone must be to grow out a beard for a month, only to shave half of it. Last year I gave my final presentation in English class with a half-beard, which was a bizarre/depressing movie I created for the autobio/fictional story I had forced myself to write. I wore the half-beard proudly for one week not only to highlight the absurdity of standards, but to express my own absurdity. I was an insomniac, fidgeting in my bottom bunk all hours into the night, listening to the same collection of songs, timetraveling in my head to mystical scenarios of fantasy.
I've learned one must keep with them an unassailable sense of self respect in order to accomplish value. Having a good friend at your side always helps. As a way to combat stress and other demons, I frequently do pushups whenever I have a spare moment (I can do 40 at a time, in a row).
My magnificent creative writing teacher taught me that kindness is the most sophisticated form of intelligence. If I am ever unkind to you, it means I panicked and couldn't figure out the right thing to do. In other words, I acted unintelligently.
This year was the best Thanksgiving. I hope the approaching holidays will be just as great.
Today Melanie came in my room and checked my roommates email. She found a letter from Kofi saying "I will be able to give you a single room on the first floor."
Bachelor pad once again. It's a good thing because my sleep schedule has never been more crazy. I have been going to bed at six in the morning and that isn't healthy children.
Jason has kept me good company. He had ladies, lighters, and an ipod nano. One time I even used his aftershave. In a way I guess it's sort of awesome to share a room with someone who sleeps with their laptop next to their face, because I do that a lot, which means we have that in common.
On the same note as Jeffery, the time since Thanksgiving has been a creative spirt for me. At first I thought it was a blessing, but now I think I am making a mess for myself. I always do, which is why I think I have a lot in common with Johnny Cash. Either way, I submitted a few poems and my Adam and Steve Genesis III rewrite from last year to a writers festival contest.
Tomorrow is the last day of classes and I will be reciting a poem called Old Girlfriends by William Matthews in class. It reads like this:
I thrust my impudent
cock into them
like a hand raised in class.
What they knew I didn't learn
was not to ask:
one participates.
To say one is "in love"
says everything:
the tongue depressor breaks
into flame.
To say "one" is in love
means me, hero of all these poems,
in love as in a well
I am the water of.
I am so the water
the well is every pretty face I meet