So this afternoon, I'm going to an interview at a company that I really have no interest in working for. Is this what adult life is all about? Feigning interest in order to reap unfulfilling employment? I'm being melodramatic, but it seems scary to think that what I want isn't out there so I have to shrink my expectations and accept what's available. I was hoping to gain some meaningful real-world internship experience this summer so I could start to think about how my BFA can translate into something worthwhile. I don't see myself as a studio artist and I think I'm too snarky for teaching in the arts. Then, there's another opportunity that would involve expense-paid world travel to do fun activities with small military children, which seems more fun. However, I just don't know if I'm considering it because it would provide a delay in my entering the real world as an adult or because I am really into it. I'm sure it would be a blast.
Hmmmm...I think I just need to go to the City Museum asap. That will surely solve everything.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Covenant?
Two days ago I accidentally semi-circumcised one of my fingers thanks to an overzealous x-acto knife. The injury is not that inhibiting except that typing without typos is harder than keeping allusions to "the Office" under 5 a day for some people...
This episode of self-hackery is just the latest addition to my accident-prone lifestyle. I'm currently enrolled in a glass class (I've wanted to work with molten glass for a long time. This is the step before that bundle of safety) and recently lodged a tiny shard of glass into the fleshy tip of another one of my fingers. I use my hands for everything yet I seem so careless when it comes to their well-being. I suppose if I was a math major (ha!) I wouldn't have to worry as much about sharp objects (besides pencil tips, that is). But alas, my hands-on approach to the world leaves me with scratches, burns, cuts, and bruises. I'm used to it by now, which is what scares me.
My current primary wound is on my left index finger, which I keep out of the way while typing, washing hands, etc. I'm reminded of one of my most favorite books of all time: A Prayer for Owen Meany because of a major character's loss of a particular digit in order to circumnavigate the draft. Although, the romanticized similarity is slightly glamorous (well, I guess I'm not even left-handed and there is no need to fear being drafted...), I would prefer to keep all my phalanges intact. I hereby make a pact with myself to be less careless and clumsy. My goal is to reduce clutziness by 15% in the current fiscal year.
This episode of self-hackery is just the latest addition to my accident-prone lifestyle. I'm currently enrolled in a glass class (I've wanted to work with molten glass for a long time. This is the step before that bundle of safety) and recently lodged a tiny shard of glass into the fleshy tip of another one of my fingers. I use my hands for everything yet I seem so careless when it comes to their well-being. I suppose if I was a math major (ha!) I wouldn't have to worry as much about sharp objects (besides pencil tips, that is). But alas, my hands-on approach to the world leaves me with scratches, burns, cuts, and bruises. I'm used to it by now, which is what scares me.
My current primary wound is on my left index finger, which I keep out of the way while typing, washing hands, etc. I'm reminded of one of my most favorite books of all time: A Prayer for Owen Meany because of a major character's loss of a particular digit in order to circumnavigate the draft. Although, the romanticized similarity is slightly glamorous (well, I guess I'm not even left-handed and there is no need to fear being drafted...), I would prefer to keep all my phalanges intact. I hereby make a pact with myself to be less careless and clumsy. My goal is to reduce clutziness by 15% in the current fiscal year.
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