After college

Every time I hear a Ted talk, every time I pass a salvation army or a bell-ringing Santa, every time I go to New York City, I feel the same thing: guilt, mixed with motivation. All of these make me want to quit school, move to Africa and dedicate my life to building homes or something like that. The unfortunate aspect of this feeling, is it makes the goals in my life seem trivial; what is the point of getting an expensive education when I could be actively spending that time helping people who really need it? And I always tell myself the same thing - I will do this after college.

After college, I'll start an organization that makes the lives of the homeless sparkly and perfect.

After college I'll donate five million coats to people who need them in winter time.

Essentially - After college, I'll save the world.
But I have to wait until after college.

The thing is, I also have all of these other dreams about what "after college" means, specifically, going to yet another educational institution and getting my masters or PhD, in some sort of specialized form of bullshit that may never help anyone except myself. At times, I *love* the idea of getting my masters in a certain type of literary critique/analysis, or in choreography and ballet, or obtaining a law degree. At other times, all of these "dreams" appear as though they are holding me back from being motivated and impulsive enough to dedicate my life to something that seems more important.

Of course, it has occurred to me that I can go and save the world AFTER grad school as well. Seems like a slippery slope though, doesn't it? First it's after college, then after grad school, then after I find a job, then after I buy a house, then after I have children, etc etc until the only suitable time to actually lay down my selfish life is when I'm dead and can donate my organs or something.

The reason this bothers me so much, is because everything is important to me at one time or another. Doing well in school is very important to me. Being educated and respectable, learning more about the subjects that I love, and being prominent in my field; all of these things matter to me. However, if I were on the outside looking in, it would seem like those things are so much more superficial, or maybe just selfish wants. These are not the aspects and acts that I see in other people that I wish I saw in myself. Namely, all of those amazing people who work in homeless shelters, food pantries, travel to places in desperate need and actually physically help. It seems that simply through donation, while I can still feel good about that, it is not giving me the tangible satisfaction that I want to feel, knowing that I have improved a life far less fortunate than my own. The unfairness of the situations we are born into is incredible; I say that, and I'm the one on the fortunate side.

I don't know when 'the time' will hit me; when I will know that it is time to put down the ties in my life and live for something that I can feel proud of. Being educated isn't enough; in my opinion, the only mark of how successful my education is, will be how strongly it equipped and motivated me to assist those who need it.

I want to be John Keats

There is something about Bruce Springsteen (apparently) that inspires me to write in my blog. It's probably not a trend, but just coincidental. Just something that I've noticed. Maybe, because his lyrics are so good, he makes me feel like I want to write something as well, and then it turns into something silly because I have a hard time writing seriously.

So I'm due for a post, even though I didn't know what I was going to write about before clicking 'new post.'

I want to be able to write really good poetry. I try every once in a while. In fact, I try all the time, but only sometimes do I write it down, and then much less often is it typed up. It is problematic to actually devote time to reading excellent poetry, and then think about sharing your own, because you have already been subjected to what you think is brilliant, beautiful, meaningful. When I look at my own piece it gives me that facial expression when you raise one eyebrow, lower one side of your lip, baring only that side of your teeth, and then delete all evidence of probably the worst bit of poetry ever written. I think it's because I'm not a suffering artist. If things were going really poorly for me, my poetry would improve by at least 146%.
Though I suppose there are some great "happy" poems out there...I'm going to pretend like that's not true.

I attempted some poetry today. I will force myself to share it because, let's be honest here, about 2 people tops will end up reading this blog. I wrote a bit, but I only ended up liking the first stanza, which has absolutely no technique, rhyme (ok, 2), meter, or formula of stresses. Here goes:

He is the text to my white-sheeted soul,
and gives my energy its potential.
I am titled.
My character and coffee stains have purpose
when accompanied by our story.
From our first conversation, he
turned to dialogue what was my diary.

Tada. I'm outtie.