If you look at the kinds of posts I have been posting the last couple weeks, you will get a good idea of how busy I have been. I have thus far managed to not get very stressed and overwhelmed, which I am proud of, and I hope I can continue that. But man, I am so tired. It just doesn't end, not even for one day, you know? not even on weekends. not even on my birthday. gotta keep on trucking. The only thing that bothers me is that now that I'm really a lit major, I feel like I spend too much time reading about life and not enough time actually living it. It's a strange thing though, because it's not like while I am reading I cease to exist. Reading itself is an experience that is part of real life. But sometimes, for obvious reasons, it doesn't feel like it. I cannot be content to simply read and apreciate other people's work. Reading has always been for me a kind of research. If I like something, I make a mental note to do something like that someday (not just like it, but something like it). If I don't like something, I lose respect for the writer and promise myself never to write anything like it. What I'm trying to say is that I read a lot now under the assumption that someday it will be someone else who is reading me. This assumption is what makes it OK forme to spend so much of my life reading. It's what gives my education, at least for the time being, a purpose. I do not plan to always be reading, but for now, it is the best thing I can think of to do. And maybe that's why I don't get too stressed these days.
On an almost related note, A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf is amaaaaaaazing. I'm not even kidding you, I feel so enlightened. I feel so inspired. I feel so ashamed. Here is the feeling I was trying to describe a few days ago about that mountain goats song:
... the beauty of the world which is soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
uuuuuadfjghbrgiuruuuuughkjsdfngkafg I am such a failure.
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4 Kommentare:
Wow! That is quite a description.
It must me the mark of a true writer though, this feeling you talk about.
at least it's literature you have to always be reading and not boring non-fiction articles from readers. I suppose that's the one consolation? but yeah I can't even imagine doing as much reading as you do... although you like reading more than I do. hmm.
oooooo. assunder. i like your posts on literature. i feel like we're in a secret struggle club. also, i've never read a room of one's own, but i do know that virginia wolf is so so so amazing and i'm glad we have her in common.
I brought those Virginia Woolf books home from school today. I have A Room of One's Own, Three Guineas, Mrs. Dalloway, To the Lighthouse AND Virginia Woolf, a Biography. Do you want any of them now? Also, did you know the play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" is playing at the Ahmanson until March 18?
-Mom
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