I just so happened to be cleaning out old documents in my
computer when I stumbled upon this beauty. Before I had to take my leave of
absence in college, I was in the middle of a poetry class. It was probably my
favorite class because I had a friend (Joshua James Palmer, if you’re reading
this) in the class and the world’s best professor (Jenny Brown, who probably is
not reading this)(also, I’m not saying that to kiss up, obviously. I didn’t
even finish out and will never have another class with her again). One
assignment I did was a poem that had to be 100 words long and one single
sentence. I thought it was genius. I don’t know if anyone else will agree with
me, but here:
Furiously typing on my keyboard
and staring at the taunting blank page on the computer screen
does not make composing a one hundred word poem very simple
because I crave to have my emotions
and what I deem as brilliant and earth-shattering poetry
reach and grab at a whole new audience
to believe that I am some sort of creative genius
so that they may look at me and understand
that I am a sort of artistic Messiah
here to shatter the world of it’s inevitable monotony
and impassionate wit
and grant redeemable grace to those who wish to believe
in something more than the average words
on a more than average earth.
and staring at the taunting blank page on the computer screen
does not make composing a one hundred word poem very simple
because I crave to have my emotions
and what I deem as brilliant and earth-shattering poetry
reach and grab at a whole new audience
to believe that I am some sort of creative genius
so that they may look at me and understand
that I am a sort of artistic Messiah
here to shatter the world of it’s inevitable monotony
and impassionate wit
and grant redeemable grace to those who wish to believe
in something more than the average words
on a more than average earth.
So that all got me thinking about the classes I didn’t get
to finish this past year. This was the only one I truly regret not finishing.
Not because I was good at poetry, by any means; but because it was the only class
that truly felt liberal-artsy. Everything else felt forced and usual, and to be
honest I almost fell asleep in at least half of them. I didn’t need this course
for any requirements; I just wanted to take it. And isn’t that what college is
supposed to be about?
I really truly wish our societal/economical standards held the same beliefs as the ones in the past, minus the complete boredom that
sounds like what living “back then” entails. Not everyone went to college and
it was okay. The people that went to college did so because they wanted to
learn. I feel like now our youth just feels forced to go so they can get a degree
and get a decent paying job. So kids go and take what’s necessary so they can
get out.
Well forget that. If I have the chance, I want to take
things I care about. Of course when I get back I’ll probably rush ahead like I
was previously doing. But at least for this one moment in time, I care.
(Also, in case this post wasn't light-hearted enough, here's a gif I made)

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