Untitled.
16 April 1999
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spent most of today reading peter brook's the empty space, which i was s'posed to have read for my playwriting class by about the middle of the semester. i really wish that reading wasn't so hard for me. sometimes it gives me headaches, or my eyes hurt, or i have to get up and spin in circles. sometimes it feels like something is being torn apart inside my head. why should something that deep down i really love doing be so difficult?
i also listened to music today for the first time in about a week. i listen to the radio in my car, but other than that i had been kinda living with just the ambient noise: traffic, sirens, birds. it's a little odd, i usually have music on just about all the time, a constant soundtrack to my life.
today was the last day to drop a class, and i didn't, so it looks as if i'm going to have to do all the makeup work for my philosophy of religion class. although i had sorta already made that decision a day or two ago. of course come tuesday evening when i'm headed to class and haven't done a thing i'll likely wish i had done otherwise. so basically that just means that i have to write papers tomorrow, in spite of my self.
i also listened to music today for the first time in about a week. i listen to the radio in my car, but other than that i had been kinda living with just the ambient noise: traffic, sirens, birds. it's a little odd, i usually have music on just about all the time, a constant soundtrack to my life.
today was the last day to drop a class, and i didn't, so it looks as if i'm going to have to do all the makeup work for my philosophy of religion class. although i had sorta already made that decision a day or two ago. of course come tuesday evening when i'm headed to class and haven't done a thing i'll likely wish i had done otherwise. so basically that just means that i have to write papers tomorrow, in spite of my self.