Just as Germany wanted France in the first world war (I'm learning this!), I want this multi-dimensional, layered flaxen confection to be mine. I'm about to take a mid-term on the international levels of analysis for world conflict and instead of studying Paul Kennedy's "power perspective" I can't stop running my fingers over the mouse, urging it toward the Google icon to search for photos of Kate.
I've reached the part in the school year where I a.) think I am an ass-sucking dumb dumb who can't internalize concepts or structure a decent essay, b.) think all my professors think I am an ass-sucking dumb dumb who can't internalize concepts or structure a decent essay, and c.) fear that my academic pursuits will not be transformative but rather fruitless and (I can't think of a good word to go here. See? It's true!).
Since it's only noon and I'm sitting in an office in Midtown, I can't have a glass of wine. Even in this laissez-faire, ethics-free work environment a liquid lunch would be considered untoward. So, in times like these there is no better salve for the uncertain soul than perusing glossy photos of "newly curvy" models with my dream haircolor. I'm feeling like a decent grade might be elusive so instead I'll aspire to follicular light-headedness. I'll strive to be blonde.
I actually wrote an essay for class on this very subject last week: hair as a canvas, a place to make discoveries and declarations. It came back last night with the following comment: the piece was fun but the material uninspired. Well, shit. Back to Kate.
Uninspired, perhaps. Escapist, absolutely.
The endless reinvention continues.
1 comment:
Don't let the innate restraint of academia stand in the way of your whimsy. Yeah, you've got to toe the line while you're there, but keep that thread of twisty out-there that is uniquely your own. You're a fab writer, dearie. Don't forget it.
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