It's just school. It's jolly boring most times, especially in religion classes. I feel like I'm being spoon-fed a testimony, and I resent it. It's just a sappy, grown-up version of seminary. I got a 57% on my last exam, and I quit going.I worry. I worry that I'm not worried. It makes me sick that I can't just force myself to want to do homework or want to go to class. Perhaps I'll just clean houses.
I stole some books out of the closet at work today. People just leave such beautiful books in the closet and forget about them. I stole an old copy of Oliver Twist and a really nice side-by-side translation of The Qur'an. Christopher West (if you read this post), I have a feeling that these books are yours. If they are, just tell me and I'll give them back. I can never feel good about stealing books.
The only class I feel really engaged in is my bookbinding class. It's lovely. I took it once already, about three years ago. This time, I got to write my own syllabus. Instead of doing the normal, simple, prescribed styles of binding, I get to do all leather. Leather work is hard. There are special skills involved. Since you turn the ends of the leather to the inside of the book, you have to taper it down to reduce bulk. New tools, new skills, etc. I research it all on my own, and I love it. It's proactive learning. No one is telling me what to read or study; I get to choose it all. This is the kind of learning that I absolutely thrive on. It's a ruddy shame that all of my education cannot be like this. I'd do so well.So I need that change that I was looking forward to at the beginning of the semester. I need this back:
He's such a lovely boy. Anytime I'm around, he just can't stay away. He butts into my personal space. He has no regard for anything but to be loved. Here's a year out of eight that I've wasted. I don't want to have to miss him for the other seven years of his life.What a horrible post. Instead of only writing stuff that I can be proud and feel good about, I'm writing whatever. Holding off until I can come up with something tasty has resulted in creating posts every month or so. I guess you just write until something good comes out. It takes practice like anything else.
Everyone should just go to sleep today and forget about everything.
2 comments:
THE LONDON BLOG!! When I saw that at the top of my blog roller I got so excited!
Why do we torture ourselves with school? I don't know..."a means to an end" my dad always told me...but what end? (PS he went to college when he was 35 and had 5 kids because he was tired of being a mechanic).
"He has no regard for anything but to be loved." YOU WRITE BEAUTIFULLY! That is exactly how I've been feeling about Franky. He just wants to be held and loved and played with and loved and held and loved and loved :) It's so great how babies come that way - in fact I don't think any of us really ever lose than constant desire. It was funny when you mentioned Pistol in your comment to me because sometimes I feel like Franky is a puppy. I try to warn him that I am leaving the room (to perhaps reduce his stress) and to let him know he can come with me; I find myself crouching down saying, "C'mon, c'mon Franky, c'mon, lets go!"
You strike me as a creative person. I don't mean 'creative' like someone who draws or makes up tap dances or something. I mean creative as in someone who creates—someone who can take lots of little things and make them add up to something much more important. Someone who binds books: you have to take all the paper, string, leather, and glue, and organize it into something useful and well designed.
I think the problem with education is that it does not assume creativity in its victims. Classes provide building blocks without expecting anyone to add them up to anything beyond the four-month semester. I know many teachers who try to resist that idea, but I think it's part of the system as it stands.
I'm glad you keep cultivating your creativity, even if school is trying to squish it.
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