play that funky music...
The end of the semester left me in sort of a funk, and its something in need of apology. Dysfunction: with grades, with people, with intellectual strife of my own making left my poor blog by the wayside.
I've created an official blog, the blog from which my intellectual outpourings might flow. http://www.simplesimon.org - A new playground for stemwinding as they say. Eventually that domain might get the old switcharoo, if I ever get around to buying thestemwinder.com which I'm putting off for whatever reason.
The end of the semester, unlike blogging, is an ending and unfortunately, a continuation. I owe more people more phone calls and emails than I ever have. Without a single class or grade in the balance, I feel like that very substance of who am I and who I wish to be now sits precariously.
When I came to school, I opted for the more dangerous road. I began a non-profit, a student publication, and hopefully a blogging/reading society. Meanwhile, I joined Techtronics, Duke University Improv, and the student Auditing Committee while doing biology research. With these committments, I balanced my classes.
The semester ended in shambles in every regard. I stole a 3.5 GPA after rocking my Math final - sad because I expected such an effort would earn me a 3.75. In Biology research, I never did see the Salicylic acid results repeated, while I never had a really funny show with DUI. Techtronics which had plodded along so well for so many months came crashing down in the final classes as the kids truly realized we had no disciplinary authority, and Project SKY takes flack from every side: left, right, up, down, and below. To top it all off, the Publication I originated -- it was my idea when we peel back all the layers, originally elucidated in a white paper I wrote -- suffers a severe lack of leadership. Everything is burning.
I suppose its safe to argue that it's no wonder I was quoting poetry as the semester died down. It's too much. It's beyond what I was raised -- beyond what I am capable of.
And so, in these hours I am faced with a choice - a choice I'd thought I'd made long ago. To turn back, or keep fighting.
Oh of course I'm a 4.0 student if I do nothing. No question. I walk into rooms and even the professors defer (which angers and annoys me).
People never understood - I was born with a curse unimagineable. I am given no clearance, and what for? Because people expect so much, and to be excellent I must exceed expectations others cannot even aspire to... and it makes me tired. And I cannot let out the emotion - I have no recourse, no strategy for doing so.
Ultimately, I feel like the things I do, the dazzling magics I perform are rare. So rare as to be special. But no one has ever called me thus. No compliments have ever come my way. I'm fighting for that one ringing statement, and with it a reason to live, and the comfort to die.
I've created an official blog, the blog from which my intellectual outpourings might flow. http://www.simplesimon.org - A new playground for stemwinding as they say. Eventually that domain might get the old switcharoo, if I ever get around to buying thestemwinder.com which I'm putting off for whatever reason.
The end of the semester, unlike blogging, is an ending and unfortunately, a continuation. I owe more people more phone calls and emails than I ever have. Without a single class or grade in the balance, I feel like that very substance of who am I and who I wish to be now sits precariously.
When I came to school, I opted for the more dangerous road. I began a non-profit, a student publication, and hopefully a blogging/reading society. Meanwhile, I joined Techtronics, Duke University Improv, and the student Auditing Committee while doing biology research. With these committments, I balanced my classes.
The semester ended in shambles in every regard. I stole a 3.5 GPA after rocking my Math final - sad because I expected such an effort would earn me a 3.75. In Biology research, I never did see the Salicylic acid results repeated, while I never had a really funny show with DUI. Techtronics which had plodded along so well for so many months came crashing down in the final classes as the kids truly realized we had no disciplinary authority, and Project SKY takes flack from every side: left, right, up, down, and below. To top it all off, the Publication I originated -- it was my idea when we peel back all the layers, originally elucidated in a white paper I wrote -- suffers a severe lack of leadership. Everything is burning.
I suppose its safe to argue that it's no wonder I was quoting poetry as the semester died down. It's too much. It's beyond what I was raised -- beyond what I am capable of.
And so, in these hours I am faced with a choice - a choice I'd thought I'd made long ago. To turn back, or keep fighting.
Oh of course I'm a 4.0 student if I do nothing. No question. I walk into rooms and even the professors defer (which angers and annoys me).
People never understood - I was born with a curse unimagineable. I am given no clearance, and what for? Because people expect so much, and to be excellent I must exceed expectations others cannot even aspire to... and it makes me tired. And I cannot let out the emotion - I have no recourse, no strategy for doing so.
Ultimately, I feel like the things I do, the dazzling magics I perform are rare. So rare as to be special. But no one has ever called me thus. No compliments have ever come my way. I'm fighting for that one ringing statement, and with it a reason to live, and the comfort to die.
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