It's funny to see Northwestern kids deal with vagueness in class. Especially in literature or art classes, when the professors' brilliance stems from lack of structure. When the profs' intention is more to allow them to struggle with lack of direction themselves and find their way, when what they want is for us to find the answers ourselves, but all we want to do is for now is to ask for guidance -- to be led. For such smart-alecs, we're weirdly drawn to dependency.
I wish I were the kind of person who could just go from task to task mindlessly. Either mindlessly or like a professional, who, like a prison guard who knows exactly what his expectations, roles, obligations are, and simply does them because he knows and doesn't mind. Kind of like a post-it too. I envy that. Sometimes I try and learn to be a little more mindless by seeking routine tasks, laundry for instance, but it's so fleeting. And once it's over I'm back to overthinking and wearing myself out.
The biggest drive in my life is to be interested. You know when you visit someone's room for the first time, and they, let's say, have a weird collection--for example, exotic bird feathers--and usually you're just like "Oh that's an interesting collection, moving on"--I'm not like that. I start a bird feather collection a day later. It's less to do with imitation and more a fascination, like, "Holy fuck, I had no idea feathers were even an option. I need to know what it is about it that's so great." I'm starting to sound like an Apple groupie--which is odd, because there's nothing like early adapters to peeve me senseless
Then again, what's the difference between being interested and being interesting.
Can there be one without the other? It's difficult for me to imagine, for example, falling in love with someone who doesn't have an interest, whether it be creative or not. Literature calls that passion, but I believe it might more be a certain perspective -- for instance, I think kids who consider themselves uninterested have such interesting perspectives on life. Like my friend in engineering school who reserves art for others; when I ask, what do you read? She'll blush a little, as if every time that's come up in previous conversations she'd been a little ashamed, as if art were some special club she doesn't belong in, and vice versa. But she's diligent. And that requires perspective, that perspective conjures discipline, then dedication, and then age.
Guichanaso.
