wastedenglishmajor

[wastedenglishmajor]

a final with no outcome

it’s weird how i write a zine, and for a final where i could have written one, i really didn’t want to.

then again, i think blogs are a little silly, but this was the easier option for me because i am lazy and writing tends to bore me very quickly when i cannot articulate what i want to say.

that leads me to whatever this post is gonna be about. the title is just truth; i am writing a final in which i will most likely not see a grade for, considering i will be out of the class in which i am writing it for. at first, i thought it was selfish to drop a class. i considered it to be disrespectful in a way, it feels almost like you’re leading on your classmates and your teacher into thinking you’re there to benefit them. but you aren’t. 

then again, i don’t like classes where i’m not learning anything. not to brag or boast, but i have excelled in most english classes i have taken to the point where the subject in total bores the fuck out of me. still, this isn’t a fair statement for writing for publication. let’s go back a little bit.

the first issue was fantastic, but the way i mended my part of it to life was remarkably striking. when i first started laying down the bricks for an article about a punk show, i thought its success would be fanciful. success as in, would i even succeed in writing the fucking thing. it didn’t seem realistic, but low and behold, i worked my ass off, and sculpted a piece in which i am very proud of. taking about our benefit show, and my hatred for cops while being non biased? fantastic.

unfortunately, the fun ended there for me.

issue two comes along and i am drowning in work. technical theatre (my passion), college bullshit, utterly ridiculous economics assignments. the face of education had reared its head, and it was staring directly into my baby blues. with very little free time and frankly, very little energy, journalism was the last thing on my mind if it was even on my mind at all.

i wrote an article. an article. which i wrote. those are my thoughts on my article for issue two. plain and simple, “i wrote an article.” at first i hated the fucking thing, but it’s whatever. it will not be a piece i remember out of how fantastic it was. all i knew was, i hated the process of writing it and getting the stupid interviews for it. it sucked.

at this time, while not even helping lay out the newspaper, i knew i was going to drop the class. i almost feel guilty in saying that, but if anything, i had known before that i wanted to drop the class. finding time to even be inspired to do anything was about as difficult as reading morse code, and on top of that, my enjoyment for writing was fading. i wasn’t writing poetry, music, or anything. i would do technical theatre, and i would go home and sleep for a couple hours. i repeated this loop for weeks, until the play was over.

now, here i am, on finals week. no, i wont lie. here i am, december 15th, a day before this final is due. it’s raining a little bit, i’ve got some grateful dead on (a ritual i have committed to when writing) and i’m burning carnival incense. carnival incense is a strange scent. its not like popcorn and cotton candy, its just sweet. sweet to the extent which is tolerable by a young child who could probably eat sugar packets and enjoy it. that kind of sweet. but it’s been burning for a while, and don’t wanna put it out.

for a conclusion, i’m at a writers block. i was gonna bullshit about the big takeaway for this class, but to be genuine, i don’t really have one. i still can’t use indesign, i still don’t really want to write, and i still only sleep a couple hours a night. my brothers melatonin gummies taste bad, so i don’t bother with those. i also don’t really wanna take anything like that, let alone any sort of medication or shit like that.

i watched good will hunting on monday. it was strange.

“cornelia”

the grass bleeds for centuries to come,

and the man sunk his atomic knife into its flesh

from the pain there is beauty

and a deformity so unique you can only gaze in confusion

how can i articulate this life form?

is it mutation

or is life maturing again?

are we victims of his atomic knife

or are we all beautiful?

is there a reason to forget your pain

or am i stuck in a trance with a fifth leg

or a third eye