Of Suicide and the Hairless
I had a professor once who said that everytime he had an existential crisis, he shaved his head. I am currently looking for the clippers and trying on hats.
But first, the good news. I just finished my paper on War and Peace. The major stuff is over. I have a break. I can breathe. I'm not looking around questioningly at what I have to do next. Yea for me! Yea for my apartment which is finally going to get cleaned! Yea for Matt who hasn't shot me yet! Yea for the Law and Order episode I am going to watch tonight!
So now to the existential stuff. Yeah. So probably everyone has heard about the guy who killed himself in Tucker last weekend. I have been thinking a lot about this, probably thanks to the people in my Creative Writing class who insisted upon talking about it. I don't know. What if this is it for me? I mean, for me being happy. All of a sudden I can't imagine myself any where but at William and Mary, going to class, fulfilling deadlines, talking in crazy conversations about postmodernism and Tolstoy and the syntactical aspects of Pope's poetry. I don't want to live in the real world. However, I know that if I decided to go to grad school now, it would only be because I am refusing not to enter the real world. I mean, if I end up going someday, I want it t be because I want to seek some sort of intellectual betterment, not because I'm a crybaby. I'm just scared that I will end up as some boring slob who doesn't learn anymore and will never be able to be what I want. Oh dear Lord. What is going on here?
On a lighter note, I am discovering that I have a strange obsession with bald men. Check out this handy, dandy list:
Michael Stipe: bald, completely hairless some might say
my Tolstoy professor who I am taking for the third time: bald, naturally
me as a baby: bald
one of my favorite teachers in elementary school: bald
Moby: bald, another completely hairless being, very cute in concert
Ben Kingsley, who I am not totally obsessed with, but who is a very good actor: bald
See? It's astonishing. I'm sure I will think of others later. What is really strange about it is that my boyfriend has a very luxurious head of hair, one that first drew my gaze to him in the first place. And then there's my whole Slash thing, my loving of a man who is all hair and Jack Daniels. I'm weird. Maybe someone could psychoanalyze me. Post a comment and tell me iif you think I am nuts.
Well, I should go. I am going to reread my paper, and decide if I have something to be proud of, or if I should just email it to him and stay at home and watch A&E. This is what it's come to. Ho ho.
But first, the good news. I just finished my paper on War and Peace. The major stuff is over. I have a break. I can breathe. I'm not looking around questioningly at what I have to do next. Yea for me! Yea for my apartment which is finally going to get cleaned! Yea for Matt who hasn't shot me yet! Yea for the Law and Order episode I am going to watch tonight!
So now to the existential stuff. Yeah. So probably everyone has heard about the guy who killed himself in Tucker last weekend. I have been thinking a lot about this, probably thanks to the people in my Creative Writing class who insisted upon talking about it. I don't know. What if this is it for me? I mean, for me being happy. All of a sudden I can't imagine myself any where but at William and Mary, going to class, fulfilling deadlines, talking in crazy conversations about postmodernism and Tolstoy and the syntactical aspects of Pope's poetry. I don't want to live in the real world. However, I know that if I decided to go to grad school now, it would only be because I am refusing not to enter the real world. I mean, if I end up going someday, I want it t be because I want to seek some sort of intellectual betterment, not because I'm a crybaby. I'm just scared that I will end up as some boring slob who doesn't learn anymore and will never be able to be what I want. Oh dear Lord. What is going on here?
On a lighter note, I am discovering that I have a strange obsession with bald men. Check out this handy, dandy list:
Michael Stipe: bald, completely hairless some might say
my Tolstoy professor who I am taking for the third time: bald, naturally
me as a baby: bald
one of my favorite teachers in elementary school: bald
Moby: bald, another completely hairless being, very cute in concert
Ben Kingsley, who I am not totally obsessed with, but who is a very good actor: bald
See? It's astonishing. I'm sure I will think of others later. What is really strange about it is that my boyfriend has a very luxurious head of hair, one that first drew my gaze to him in the first place. And then there's my whole Slash thing, my loving of a man who is all hair and Jack Daniels. I'm weird. Maybe someone could psychoanalyze me. Post a comment and tell me iif you think I am nuts.
Well, I should go. I am going to reread my paper, and decide if I have something to be proud of, or if I should just email it to him and stay at home and watch A&E. This is what it's come to. Ho ho.
posted by Southern Belle at 10:44 AM
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