The Past

We are going to go back in time. Around my freshman and sophomore years in high school, everything was the end of the world. Of course today some things still amount to seemingly apocalyptic ends, but not nearly as often as then. Anyway, I picked up writing as a way to vent out my feelings in a time of raging hormones and wacked out emotions. Fortunately, it evoked from me a talent that I did not understand until today, which is a day too late. I have, for lack of a better phrase, been swallowed by the life of a college student and, consequently, lost my talent of poetry. Oh well, at least I can still spell. Today it's essays, more essays, lab writeups, and more essays. You hardly have to be creative to conjure a five page draft about stem cell research or whatever. College is great, and looking to the future is great too, I guess... I mean I'm looking at around 10 years more of school, so right now it looks like a lot of boring schoolwork. It looks like a lot of time consuming crap that I don't care about. All of it, I'm sure, will lead to this huge realization that "it was all worth the fulfillment I feel right now as I sit on a fat pile of money" but seriously? When I was a freshman, when I was a sophomore, I wanted to be a painter. Someone whose desk is a huge blank canvas, your daily task is to come up with something creative to do. Then I grew up, and what the hell? Now it's about the social definition of success and trying to overcome the disease of poverty -- where is the fun in that? Where is the fun in a waiting list, 14 years of school, MATH, debt... In the past, I didn't really care about anything. I guess you could say this is another one of those blogs about how "in the good 'ole days when all you cared about was giggles and rainbows," but those WERE the good ole days! And now we are just trying to grow up and be something in this miserable world.
That's just what's on my mind tonight. A little unorganized and a tad bit melodramatic, but such is my definition of perfection. What's yours?