A couple of months ago, I had the typical freakout that I was in the wrong major. That law school wasn't for me. That I shouldn't be graduating this early. I stayed up all night, trying to figure which classes I should actually take. And then it hit me--I didn't really know what classes interested me.
So how could I go to law school? How could I waste that time and money for something I wasn't even partially sure I would enjoy ten years down the line. And until recently, I think I felt that I would just muddle my way through law school and figure it out after that.
Until today, I'd forgotten what it was like to be in a class that WASN'T entirely based on political theory. Especially when I tend to agree with the "bad" theorists and get marked down accordingly. I still have no apologies, by the way, for thinking that Machiavelli's political system is the most realistic for modern civilizations. Politics aren't pessimistic, but they certainly aren't full of sunshine either.
But today, I remembered that I do, in fact, love philosophy. I do love the extremely likely possibility that law will be in my future. So thanks, Environmental Law. I realize there is a change to be made in the world through law that doesn't involve Wall Street's bulging pockets (then again, I suppose that's not true this week). Environmental Law, you managed to show me that there is a heart to the political system, a heart that I think I want to be a part of.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Insomnia Inspired Plans (is there any other kind?)
My sleepless nights are beginning again. It gives me time to think and new music to discover, but for the most part, I'd rather be sleeping.
So lately, I've really been itching to explore Boston more. As a senior (what?!), it's about time I got around to that. I've really become comfortable walking around the city by myself. To be honest, sometimes I worry that my comfort in my independence will somehow harden me. I'm often more than satisfied to be alone; I revel in it. This is by no means extraordinary, but still, I worry.
First off, I really want to go to a poetry slam. I'm pretty sure no one here knows how much I love that kind of poetry--the kind that flows off the tongue in rhythmic and hypnotizing patterns. The kind of poetry that speaks to everyone without a sense of elitism or even a necessarily intellectual point of view. I'd really love to be in the room at a slam, to feel the words bounce off the walls and the cadences wash over me. I'd happily envy the phrases I wished I could formulate. Phrases like "I'll be first place fair county kind of rare." Because, if I could verbalize that, you can bet I would.
Until I can, I'll settle for watching (in awe) other people twist and mold language right across the river in good 'ole Cambridge. It might not be Boston, but it's a start.
So lately, I've really been itching to explore Boston more. As a senior (what?!), it's about time I got around to that. I've really become comfortable walking around the city by myself. To be honest, sometimes I worry that my comfort in my independence will somehow harden me. I'm often more than satisfied to be alone; I revel in it. This is by no means extraordinary, but still, I worry.
First off, I really want to go to a poetry slam. I'm pretty sure no one here knows how much I love that kind of poetry--the kind that flows off the tongue in rhythmic and hypnotizing patterns. The kind of poetry that speaks to everyone without a sense of elitism or even a necessarily intellectual point of view. I'd really love to be in the room at a slam, to feel the words bounce off the walls and the cadences wash over me. I'd happily envy the phrases I wished I could formulate. Phrases like "I'll be first place fair county kind of rare." Because, if I could verbalize that, you can bet I would.
Until I can, I'll settle for watching (in awe) other people twist and mold language right across the river in good 'ole Cambridge. It might not be Boston, but it's a start.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
