Signs of Apocalypse

I can't stop thinking about Freud. I dream in Dali paintings. I see the world in the angles of a pool table. I wear sweatpants out of the house.


University is that kind of parasitic entity that works its way into your system and then feeds of your nutrients. It starves out your internal organs, and give you a caffeine craving like you would not believe. All thoughts have to be filtered, revised- hell cited-before leaving your brain to become something useful. The process is all analytic.

Maybe it is just a figment of my post-pubescent mind, but it seems like everything I am being taught is self-reflected. They are trying to make you ask yourself the kinda of questions that you can only get on the therapist's couch.... or from Gauguin paintings.

It is possible that it s just my degree that implants these auto response critical thinking processes. On the one hand I have my Art Historical bias- this consisting of prodding, probing and digging your way to some 'internal truth'. It is all about asking what the back story is, or the historical context, where is the deviation from the norm, where is the continuing of precedent, did the painter have a soft spot for their mother?

Filling that out a little more is my Religions side of things. It adds about a million more questions to the list of Things To Ask Oneself In Any Given Moment Of Time; what is the goal of this, what is the reality, who started it, who continued it, who will come after, what is the common ground, where does it happen, what's the hagiography.

And far worse than either of those is the proverbial PSYCH 100. Every class is one of three things;
a) A Self Awareness Exercise
b) A Historical Review
or worst of the worst
c) A Lesson in How To Psychoanalyze (read:manipulate) Friends and Family

I am beginning to feel that my brain has been prepped to carry out the global domination strategy of the U of T roster of professors. I can no longer look at someone walking down the street wearing a red scarf without first identifying their mental disorder, recognizing their specific sect and then hypothesizing on the importance of line and volume of the fabric with respect to its anthropomorphic representations of the Christ Pantokrator .


Sam

Coughing, Coffee, Cacaphony

The year is almost over. It is so weird to think that spring is here and in a month's time I will be done with year one of four. I don't understand where all the time went, seems like just yesterday I was heading back over the prairies on a plane.

With the end of the year and the change of seasons comes the usual cough and workload. I am thrilled to say that I am done all of my assignments and now I sit here trying to motivate myself to start preparing for exams, but I think I will wait a few more days before that happens.

I am trying to decide what to do for the summer, and not really getting very far. I think I am too excited that winter is finally gone ( I say this fully aware that it is likely to snow this week) to really get ahead of myself. I am told that this campus really comes to life in the spring and I am looking forward to not having to wear pants. By this I of course means shorts and skirts and not full blown nudity.

Today is a cool, grey, not-so-pretty day, and the week is likely to be a cold one. Still there is so much green grass and a family of Starlings in the Quad, so I guess it ain't all bad .


Sam

Head to blogger actual for a new spring playlist