So today I'm exhausted. I always have four (one three hour) classes on Thursday and usually a poetry/moth/famous author reading after my last class. Luckily today nothing extra, but seven and a half hours of class in one day is still a lot, especially when the first class is all about depressing things that happen in the world, the second is just long, the third is Japanese, and the fourth starts at 5:30...
Some days it's all good and I can handle all the busy-ness- no problem. But today I woke up to a snow covered world which progressed into something like rain and a lot of mud and grey clouds and no sun. This no sun thing is killing me. I need some sunlight.
But, anyway, I ranted enough. Here's a poem that rants some more:
this is not a pantoum
long days steal the air from my lungs
classfood classclassfoodclass
Thursdays make me choke
on poems I would normally love
"write a pantoum"
but all I can think is sleep
and when can I see you again
crowded cafeterias
I have to shove my way for food
which I don't even want in the end
just pick at the pasta
take a few bites 'cause I should
make it back to my room
in time to crash on the empty bed
drink green tea
tell my roommate 'bout my day
try to shower in the always full bathroom
give up and
write another poem
Some days it's all good and I can handle all the busy-ness- no problem. But today I woke up to a snow covered world which progressed into something like rain and a lot of mud and grey clouds and no sun. This no sun thing is killing me. I need some sunlight.
But, anyway, I ranted enough. Here's a poem that rants some more:
this is not a pantoum
long days steal the air from my lungs
classfood classclassfoodclass
Thursdays make me choke
on poems I would normally love
"write a pantoum"
but all I can think is sleep
and when can I see you again
crowded cafeterias
I have to shove my way for food
which I don't even want in the end
just pick at the pasta
take a few bites 'cause I should
make it back to my room
in time to crash on the empty bed
drink green tea
tell my roommate 'bout my day
try to shower in the always full bathroom
give up and
write another poem
I like how even in the madness of freshmanness, the unnatural scheduling of classes and the shoveling of eating, things that should be organic and pleasant, you start again.
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