life goes easy on me...most of the time

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on."
- Robert Frost

I'm glad I am forgetting. But the fact is, I thought hardily about the fact that I was forgetting. I remembered that I was forgetting. Isn't that a futile thought, then?

So many people here are so smart - I feel a complete and utter fool in my history class. Matt came up with this theory that the amount of knowledge in that classroom is directly proportional to the amount of pounds that they pack. Well, this is only the case with the really heavy people. There are four large people in the class - two of them being the teachers - and they're ridiculous. Granted, the teachers are over 50, one of the students has already graduated and is 28, and one of them is a senior. They're the extreme examples, however - we talked about post-modernism thought in the study of history and all I could think of when the idea finally *clicked* was that painting by Magritte - with the depiction of a pipe underneath which is written, in French, "This is not a pipe." And I wanted to shout it out to the world - I GET it because I GET art, but that's nothing to brag about or discuss.

Why am I a history major? The passion I used to have for it, for the stories, is almost gone. I hate looking at primary documents and analyzing them. No, that's not true. I don't hate history. But I don't plan on doing anything with it once I'm done with Macalester, so what's the point?

PSHAW. Giggle giggle giggle. PSHAW.

I'm still quite down. It's this aching inside that sort of makes itself known whenever anybody asks how I am and I say "fine" or "pretty good" because it is just a big fat lie. I am lost. I am in still waters pathetically dog paddling, because that is the only kind of swimming I can do. (I mean, not really, but metaphorically, of course.)