It’s 10:42 a.m. and I’m sitting in the library “finishing a paper.” Right. I’m on coffee number 4 yet I still find myself with ZERO motivation to do anything at all…except maybe go home and see what Emeril is cooking up today while sipping a CapriSun and reading Rolling Stone (Taylor Lautner is on the cover. He’s gorgeous. Too bad he’s like 12) while listening to The Fame Monster. There is no longer any desire within my psyche to do anything academic, which is absolutely not a good thing BECAUSE there’s less than 2 weeks of classes left AND I need to keep plugging away on my thesis.
I am a failure–a failure with senioritis.
*Cue doomed music*
I swear. If next semester wasn’t my last–if I couldn’t already see the light at the end of this godforsaken Buffalo tunnel–I would just cut my losses (financial and academic) and quit college altogether.
I’m so sick of the monotony of undergrad. Read book, discuss book, write paper, repeat. It’s the same for both my English and my history major. I love my majors and my classes, I’m just really over how the information is presented. I can’t wait to get to grad school next fall (providing I get in) and be able to do something new and hands-on with my time. Hence my decision to apply to journalism schools and completely forget about English and history. An English master’s program would probably make me want to stab myself between the eyes with a ballpoint pen, despite my unrequited love for one Mr. William Shakespeare.
Plus, I just can’t be in Buffalo anymore. It was a nice 4-year run but I’m done with the cold, the rain, the gray skies, the post-industrial wasteland…I need a city whose culture isn’t centered around sauced up chicken wings, losing sports teams and Canadian beer. Don’t get me wrong, I had a TON of fun during my 4-year foray into Western New York. I just need something new. Something exciting. Something I haven’t experienced yet. Something…I don’t know…inspiring.
I’m probably ridiculous. Actually, I know I am. I can whip out this entire blog post in 20 minutes yet I can’t bring myself to finish this stupid paper on the origins of poverty in Brazil. Like I said before…I’m a failure.
And I’m antsy.
I’m over it all.
I’m so over it, I’m in Rio…and I’m dancing in the sand.