While my previous post was a rather dreary and miserable return to WP, I’d just like to clarify that I have never known true depression. It is not an affliction with which I wish to endure under pretense. No, so many beautiful people suffer from its drowning pressures, and I do not want to pretend for a second that I can comprehend what that’s like.
Rather, I am here in an emotional trench, similarly deep and solid as the icy pathways outside this winter. It is difficult to find the motivation to step into that freezing, wintry world and travel so many vehicular minutes to my temporary destination working with tomorrow’s children.
Jenn, Amanda, and I [naturally] ended up with nearly identical programs, without even trying. I like that. I’m quite glad to see that two girls to whom I’ve gradually grown closer are actually composed of the stuff of FRIENDSHIP. It’s as if Harry, Ron, and Hermione were a homogenous entity of three snarky brunettes obsessed with neurons and human behavior.
So there we sat, in Speech Science Instrumentation, damning our misfortune! Why must we conduct MORE ACOUSTIC ANALYSES .. at 9:30am once a week?! Was one undergraduate lesson not enough? Was the theme of post bacc NOT founded on simple harmonic motion of air particles? And I have to download Praat again… can you guys hear me weeping? That application resembles prehistoric cave paintings, if they were posted to a Mac OSX platform.
Why is this coming up AGAIN?
AND WHY ARE THE PROFESSORS ALWAYS TERRIBLE SPEAKERS OF ENGLISH?! CSD PROGRAMS! ATTENTION! The irony must have slipped right by you, just as my attention slipped as Prof stumbled over the word “fundamental.” Really.
Other than that, I predict this course will be cake. Boring as FUCK. But easy enough.
The NYC Diaries
Check out my sister’s blog! From one New York sister to the next 🙂
I’m at that irritating point in life when saving up for a new tattoo seems
like a good idea desirable.
Zoom in on my ribs. Text. Gothic font or typical type. Poetry? Shakespearean sonnets? Epic lyrics? One liners? Something that seems convoluted and hipsteresque, but makes sense to only me? An inside joke that I’ll regret? No. A book title. An ode to someone I love. Ehh… too predictable, too commonplace.
Crossfade onto my back, between my scapulae. A sun! No, better yet – an Alice in Chains sun! Wait, I don’t want to be that old lady paying homage to her adolescent saviors via permanently ragged, faded strokes. A portrait of my dogs. Obv.
Moving along, maybe to the left or right, and let’s focus on one of my shoulders. Okay. Gemini symbol? No, I’m pagan enough with all of my inky symbology. Inappropriately ironic for a neuroscientist. Oh, how about some anatomically correct organic structure, then? No, too cliche, too hipster, and honestly… I already have a brain, why carve one into my skin?
Grr. This is getting frustrating. Pan upwards to my neck and towards my terribly low hairline. Sure… ink beneath a legion of baby hairs could produce cute results. Mayhaps I can squeeze in a fucking caricature of my sister, which would undoubtedly turn out looking like a screwy self-portrait.
Okay. All I know is… this future tatt will be personal.