I am a dilettante

No more excuses today, I'm just gonna hammer out a post and hope it somehow cleanses my soul. Cross that, it's not like I feel like a sinner or anything. More like metaphysical congestion. Like writer's block. There. I. Said. It.

There are a million things swimming in there but I'm just too, too tired these days, despite the fact that I'm sleeping like nine hours at night. I feel like a narcoleptic. My sinuses are constantly throbbing. Coursework piles up everyday. I haven't seen a movie in weeks.

I'm taking the last two subjects I'll ever take. Well, not true. The last subjects in a long time. Come December, I'll wear the silly mortarboard and the toga and stand in line and I'll have an MBA from the quite Republican university, aka red state university, aka Texas A & M. Thank you, R, for saying all that last night. We live in hope.

I have several half drafted posts saved, about 'serious' issues like corporate social responsibility from something I read in Portfolio, and sustainability and Barbara Kingsolver-dom and the rest of that shit and how it does too matter, jajaja...hipsteur much?

'Cause it turns out I can only dabble. I don't know anything about the environment, not really. I can't grasp anything that's not expressed in dollars and cents. I can't know poetry, I can only know about the Dow Jones. Whatever.

Sorry to vent like a self centered seventh grader.

Well, let's try this. Beatles therapy usually does the trick, but I feel like a little Jorge Drexler today.



Fusión /Jorge Drexler
¿Dónde termina tu cuerpo y empieza el mío?
A veces me cuesta decir.
Siento tu calor, siento tu frío,
me siento vacío si no estoy dentro de tí.

¿Cuánto de esto es amor? ¿Cuánto es deseo?
¿Se pueden, o no, separar?
Si desde el corazón a los dedos
no hay nada en mi cuerpo que no hagas vibrar.

¿Qué tendrá de real
esta locura?
¿Quien nos asegura
que esto es normal?
Y no me importa contarte
que ya perdí la mesura
que ya colgué mi armadura en tu portal.

Donde termina tu cuerpo y empieza el cielo
no cabe ni un rayo de luz.
¿Que fue que nos unió en un mismo vuelo?
¿Los mismos anhelos?
¿Tal vez la misma cruz?

¿Quien tiene razón?
¿quien está errado?
¿Quien no habrá dudado
de su corazón?
Yo sólo quiero que sepas:
no estoy aquí de visita,
y es para ti que está escrita esta canción

so beautiful. His songs always make me want to feel loved. Don't get me wrong, I am not unloved. But his songs are romantic. And metaphysical. You know what I mean, no? god, this sounds so pathetic.

A couple of days ago, I stumbled accross an old notebook, and a James Wright poem. The last lines were so moving back then, and still are now. I just want to get back to that point where this could describe my state of mind:

Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.