end result

i got The Rock. i have it: it's mine. currently it's sitting in a place of prominence on top of my fridge next to my camera, an unpopped bag of popcorn, and a stick of Degree.

getting it felt good, but not good enough to outbalance the bad of two weeks of not getting it. i anticipated that. plus, i don't feel as though i received it as the reward it ostensibly is, for Rockin' as an RA, because i lobbied for it. i resorted to cheap flattery, bribes, blatant self-promotion. while i stopped short of handing over cash or making promises i couldn't keep, i didn't wait for my quiet, quality actions to bring the spotlight to me either.

maybe i should just accept that this is the way the world works. my brother famously didn't vote for himself in a 5th grade election and he lost by one vote.

literature has cast a pall over my mood. the best books never leave me feeling light and full of love, because they poke my bruises and purr, "Why aren't you writing?" part of the problem is i don't know what i should be writing. poetry? a new screenplay? a revision of the thesis? a novel? should i take up fiction again, after my 4 year hiatus? what do i give up? what do i try?

that, in turn, makes me wonder whether i made the right decision in turning down the m.f.a. program at emerson. there, i would likely be cold, lonely, and unhappy; and productive. writing.
i can't think about the future. in a few days, my girls will vanish and new girls will take their place. these three weeks will happen all over again. one last swirl for me in the bathtub of the present, if you will, before i am sucked down the drain.

shit. maybe i should just be a ___________