Yesterday was a great day. One for the books. I slept until nine, cleaned my room without any sign of reluctancy, made hummus and cucumber pita pockets, and went on a picnic with two of my best friends. Other than the fact that there was ridiculous amounts of bees for mid-April, it went well. We played upbeat feminist pop music (the best type of music) and laughed about dumb crushes, stupid jokes, and long trips to Ohio (that's another post for another day).
We went to one of their houses to watch Wes Anderson movies, and then to the others to watch Shakespeare, and parted ways. I returned home at seven.
Yesterday gave me the ideation that all days during April vacation will be filled with friends and indie-movie like scenarios. It's not.
Today I woke up at noon, finished cleaning my room, shaved, and have done absolutely nothing. This is when i realize that all of my friends either have jobs, plans, or live out of state.
I regret thinking that my life is a movie and that every single day is filled with awesome.
I'm trying to be articulate, but lord knows how that's going.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Thursday, April 3, 2014
The Treadmill Effect
Walking home, living in fear, and falling down on quick-moving vinyl
When you move on a treadmill you have to be careful that you do not stop until it does, unless you want to end up with burns down whatever area you happen to fall on. You feel like you're pushing the makeshift earth behind you, but you are not.
I think this is an attempt at a metaphor about life, my sheer hatred for physical activity, the four million projects I have due tomorrow, and the fact that I went to my friends lacrosse game today instead of writing an essay.
Starting in backward fashion, my walk home today was...unique? I still haven't quite come to terms with this unusually long winter, leading to me leaving my coat at school and entering my home with blue hands. To me, people seemed unusually friendly on this chilly Thursday, or maybe it was the fact that I greet passers-by with a scowl usually. I don't intend myself to come off as mean or angry, but bear in mind that I'm probably carrying over 10 pounds in textbooks and really hate most of my classes. Today, at least three people greeted me with a smile and hello, with one college student yelling something lost in the wind out of a car window to me. For some reason, these people scared me so I shifted into what I call my "quasi-waddle-run carrying 15 extra pounds in ballet flats" to get home faster.
Continuing along my path, I began to notice that my body was feeling stagnant. I was not moving. I was pushing my feet along the ground, pulling what is in front of me closer and pushing what was behind me father behind, similar to a treadmill. I gained the idea that maybe I was the reason the earth was turning. I immediately disregarded this idea because hundreds of years of physics tell me this is wrong.
On the metaphor, life is constantly moving, like the tradmill belt. Don't fall off of it because you will hurt yourself and fall very far behind and take a while to recover. I learned this the hardest way of all through a certain class. I let all the work pile up and I completed it yesterday, setting me behind in my other classes.
I think the moral of this story is that treadmills should just be done away with because nothing good ever comes of them.
When you move on a treadmill you have to be careful that you do not stop until it does, unless you want to end up with burns down whatever area you happen to fall on. You feel like you're pushing the makeshift earth behind you, but you are not.
I think this is an attempt at a metaphor about life, my sheer hatred for physical activity, the four million projects I have due tomorrow, and the fact that I went to my friends lacrosse game today instead of writing an essay.
Starting in backward fashion, my walk home today was...unique? I still haven't quite come to terms with this unusually long winter, leading to me leaving my coat at school and entering my home with blue hands. To me, people seemed unusually friendly on this chilly Thursday, or maybe it was the fact that I greet passers-by with a scowl usually. I don't intend myself to come off as mean or angry, but bear in mind that I'm probably carrying over 10 pounds in textbooks and really hate most of my classes. Today, at least three people greeted me with a smile and hello, with one college student yelling something lost in the wind out of a car window to me. For some reason, these people scared me so I shifted into what I call my "quasi-waddle-run carrying 15 extra pounds in ballet flats" to get home faster.
Continuing along my path, I began to notice that my body was feeling stagnant. I was not moving. I was pushing my feet along the ground, pulling what is in front of me closer and pushing what was behind me father behind, similar to a treadmill. I gained the idea that maybe I was the reason the earth was turning. I immediately disregarded this idea because hundreds of years of physics tell me this is wrong.
On the metaphor, life is constantly moving, like the tradmill belt. Don't fall off of it because you will hurt yourself and fall very far behind and take a while to recover. I learned this the hardest way of all through a certain class. I let all the work pile up and I completed it yesterday, setting me behind in my other classes.
I think the moral of this story is that treadmills should just be done away with because nothing good ever comes of them.
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