I am half done my first take-home exam.
It's beautiful out.
I feel like throwing this lap top out the window so I can just go out and play. this happens every year- i work fairly consistently well all semester, and then once classes end, and I get to exams I don't have any energy left. I stop caring and just barely convince myself not to simply bail now.
I have to get this done.
scooter wants me to come out for a drink tonight, and i'm going to moncton to see kel and kurt tomorrow night. i need moncton. i crave it. i need space and time to just open up and swallow me. i don't particularly know what's going on. change always happens in waves.. things will be fine for a long time, and then little by little, change will start to trickle in like water leaking through the foundation. when is it too late to repair?
I love old houses. The ones with magnificant mouldings, grand windows and doors. I love the flaws and cracks that give them character. I keep imagining the house that hold my second floor apartment, and what it must have been like once upon a time. our hallway has a half-arch crossing the middle of the cieling. it's only a half because the other half is in the neighbour's hall. once it was one great hall, twice the width, with beautiful woodwork.
the living room in the apartment downstairs is dirty. it's full of ripped furniture, textbooks, a foosball table, and other things that 3 guys need in their living room. Underneath it i see the potential. the neglected fireplace. the built in cherrywood desk. the led-paned windows. the scratched wooden floors and double doors opening up into the hall.
It almost seems a sin not to at least attempt to uphold its glory. how many years has this house stood the test of time? why did no one try to maintain that? why did they cover it up with thick paint and shoddy carpentry?
i'm a fixer-upper. but sometimes i suppose maybe it's just too much work.
It's beautiful out.
I feel like throwing this lap top out the window so I can just go out and play. this happens every year- i work fairly consistently well all semester, and then once classes end, and I get to exams I don't have any energy left. I stop caring and just barely convince myself not to simply bail now.
I have to get this done.
scooter wants me to come out for a drink tonight, and i'm going to moncton to see kel and kurt tomorrow night. i need moncton. i crave it. i need space and time to just open up and swallow me. i don't particularly know what's going on. change always happens in waves.. things will be fine for a long time, and then little by little, change will start to trickle in like water leaking through the foundation. when is it too late to repair?
I love old houses. The ones with magnificant mouldings, grand windows and doors. I love the flaws and cracks that give them character. I keep imagining the house that hold my second floor apartment, and what it must have been like once upon a time. our hallway has a half-arch crossing the middle of the cieling. it's only a half because the other half is in the neighbour's hall. once it was one great hall, twice the width, with beautiful woodwork.
the living room in the apartment downstairs is dirty. it's full of ripped furniture, textbooks, a foosball table, and other things that 3 guys need in their living room. Underneath it i see the potential. the neglected fireplace. the built in cherrywood desk. the led-paned windows. the scratched wooden floors and double doors opening up into the hall.
It almost seems a sin not to at least attempt to uphold its glory. how many years has this house stood the test of time? why did no one try to maintain that? why did they cover it up with thick paint and shoddy carpentry?
i'm a fixer-upper. but sometimes i suppose maybe it's just too much work.
posted by Suzanne Zappia at 1:56 PM
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