Fears of Departure
You know, there is a part of me that does not want to go home.
I was having a pint with some kids after a script readthrough this evening, and I realized that a large part of me is growing accustomed to being on my own, living my own life, taking care of myself. It is nice on occasion to have the fundamental existential loneliness I possess to be reflected in the everyday.
And yet I feel as though I could begin to make a life here, if I were to stay. For the first time people are saying things to me like "I'm really sad you won't be around next year," and "stay god damn it, STAY!" I am truly going to miss these people, this place, this university, this country. I wish I could have been a more integral part of these people's lives than The American Student, but to a certain degree that's my own fault for lack of initiative, and to a certain degree it has to do with luck. I didn't really find a home for myself at Kenyon until the latter half of the first year.
I think, if the Force of Destiny decrees that I must be alone after graduation, that I would rather be alone over here. When I ask my Magic 8-Ball whether I am going to be in the same geographical location as my closest friends post-graduation, the answer comes up outlook fucking bleak, and the clockwork worry machine inside my head envisions a world in which we are all scattered to the four corners of the continent. If that's going to end up being the case, then I think I would rather come back to this side of the Atlantic, where I will know some people, and where the furthest you can be from one another is six or seven hours by car.
I'm going to have to get back on top of this whole writing thing if I ever want to do it for a living, but I've been off my game for months now, and it's going to take some kind of serious change to get me back on it again (read: summer). That, I think, would be the one thing that would sweep away most of my doubts about life and the future-- if I were to start writing regularly again. I always feel more confident about myself and my life when I'm writing regularly. I feel as though I have a sense of purpose. Right now I feel a little bit like I am neglecting my destiny.
I think this is because writing is something I do that I love that I identify with that does not require anyone else. They say that a lot of writers are fundamentally loners, and I'm not sure that's the case for me... I'm a pretty sociable person. But, as previously stated, I do feel a disconnect between myself and the rest of my species, and working on my fiction helps assuage the loneliness and self-doubt that such a disconnect fosters within me.
I have spontaneously run out of things to say. I should probably get some sleep, as I have to talk to my creative writing class tomorrow.
I was having a pint with some kids after a script readthrough this evening, and I realized that a large part of me is growing accustomed to being on my own, living my own life, taking care of myself. It is nice on occasion to have the fundamental existential loneliness I possess to be reflected in the everyday.
And yet I feel as though I could begin to make a life here, if I were to stay. For the first time people are saying things to me like "I'm really sad you won't be around next year," and "stay god damn it, STAY!" I am truly going to miss these people, this place, this university, this country. I wish I could have been a more integral part of these people's lives than The American Student, but to a certain degree that's my own fault for lack of initiative, and to a certain degree it has to do with luck. I didn't really find a home for myself at Kenyon until the latter half of the first year.
I think, if the Force of Destiny decrees that I must be alone after graduation, that I would rather be alone over here. When I ask my Magic 8-Ball whether I am going to be in the same geographical location as my closest friends post-graduation, the answer comes up outlook fucking bleak, and the clockwork worry machine inside my head envisions a world in which we are all scattered to the four corners of the continent. If that's going to end up being the case, then I think I would rather come back to this side of the Atlantic, where I will know some people, and where the furthest you can be from one another is six or seven hours by car.
I'm going to have to get back on top of this whole writing thing if I ever want to do it for a living, but I've been off my game for months now, and it's going to take some kind of serious change to get me back on it again (read: summer). That, I think, would be the one thing that would sweep away most of my doubts about life and the future-- if I were to start writing regularly again. I always feel more confident about myself and my life when I'm writing regularly. I feel as though I have a sense of purpose. Right now I feel a little bit like I am neglecting my destiny.
I think this is because writing is something I do that I love that I identify with that does not require anyone else. They say that a lot of writers are fundamentally loners, and I'm not sure that's the case for me... I'm a pretty sociable person. But, as previously stated, I do feel a disconnect between myself and the rest of my species, and working on my fiction helps assuage the loneliness and self-doubt that such a disconnect fosters within me.
I have spontaneously run out of things to say. I should probably get some sleep, as I have to talk to my creative writing class tomorrow.
posted by Nate at 5:59 PM
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