I have found the best counselor in the world...
As I've said many times: I was born in the wrong decade... the wrong era. Old men love me... and not physically speaking. Yes, there are always those fucking perverts who look at me in ways that make me want to go home and scrub my skin viciously in the shower... but the older gentlemen who AREN'T pervs and prefer talking to me, think I'm the bees knees.
So... I've cried about this science things for... nearly two weeks now. Feeling like dirt and whatnot... and yesterday I decided to respond to the homie. I was sincere-- I was sad, but I was sincere.
I apologized for not responding sooner, but that I had been dealing with many unfortunate circumstances... as well as a lot of soul-searching. I told him while I wasn't IN LOVE with science, I did have a fondness for it due to dedicating so many years of my life to it. I told him I was willing to help, to take up the PhD offer if it was still on the table.
His response?
Ire. Disappointment. Frustration.
Just kidding. I said old men love me, remember?
He was intrigued... almost happy, about my frankness.
And he presented me with another idea... an idea he very enthusiastically presented... an idea that made my heart skip a beat, the color return to my dreams and memories... it made me... lightheaded with excitement.
Guys, this second offer-- I'm taking it.
This second offer is... how I KNOW I truly love something.
It was easy to go around thinking I was going to be a doctor, when all I really knew was science. It was easy to believe school work was not supposed to make me anything other than miserable and stressed... downright nauseated.
Then Fall semester of '04 came around the corner and I took that creative writing class to fill a gap... a useless class... a class for shits-and-giggles with my best friend. That's where I learned what it felt like to ENJOY work. I learned I was good at something... good at it and I LOVED doing it. It was stressful to complete the assignments in the allotted time... but I LOVED every second.
How do I know I love a guy? I FEEL it... it's indescribable... it's immediate, it's a spark.
How do I know I love a job/hobby/activity? I smile, my heart races... I clap... I FEEL.
I'm running with it. I'm taking this and running with it.
I am SO fucking excited. I can't sleep.
As I've said many times: I was born in the wrong decade... the wrong era. Old men love me... and not physically speaking. Yes, there are always those fucking perverts who look at me in ways that make me want to go home and scrub my skin viciously in the shower... but the older gentlemen who AREN'T pervs and prefer talking to me, think I'm the bees knees.
So... I've cried about this science things for... nearly two weeks now. Feeling like dirt and whatnot... and yesterday I decided to respond to the homie. I was sincere-- I was sad, but I was sincere.
I apologized for not responding sooner, but that I had been dealing with many unfortunate circumstances... as well as a lot of soul-searching. I told him while I wasn't IN LOVE with science, I did have a fondness for it due to dedicating so many years of my life to it. I told him I was willing to help, to take up the PhD offer if it was still on the table.
His response?
Ire. Disappointment. Frustration.
Just kidding. I said old men love me, remember?
He was intrigued... almost happy, about my frankness.
And he presented me with another idea... an idea he very enthusiastically presented... an idea that made my heart skip a beat, the color return to my dreams and memories... it made me... lightheaded with excitement.
Guys, this second offer-- I'm taking it.
This second offer is... how I KNOW I truly love something.
It was easy to go around thinking I was going to be a doctor, when all I really knew was science. It was easy to believe school work was not supposed to make me anything other than miserable and stressed... downright nauseated.
Then Fall semester of '04 came around the corner and I took that creative writing class to fill a gap... a useless class... a class for shits-and-giggles with my best friend. That's where I learned what it felt like to ENJOY work. I learned I was good at something... good at it and I LOVED doing it. It was stressful to complete the assignments in the allotted time... but I LOVED every second.
How do I know I love a guy? I FEEL it... it's indescribable... it's immediate, it's a spark.
How do I know I love a job/hobby/activity? I smile, my heart races... I clap... I FEEL.
I'm running with it. I'm taking this and running with it.
I am SO fucking excited. I can't sleep.
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