When I was 14, I thought I wanted to be a
writer. I wrote dreadful poem after horrible
short story. I was
idealistic and ecstatic at the joy of life and depressed and
suicidal
all the time. I was a
hopeless romantic and determined to do something
meaningful with my life.
The more things change the more they stay the same?
Well, I got sidetracked for a bit and became a
physicist and got
actually
depressed instead of
fake angsty-teenager depressed. By the time I dug myself out of
that ... I was all ready to be a moody, romantic writer-type again, and got introduced to
E2 at the perfect time.
I’m staying at my parents’ house for the
holidays, and I found all my old poems, and
couldn’t help noding them. They’re generally
naive and incredibly
prematurely jaded,
but there’s a little bit of something to them anyway. The list should be growing as I find
more that don’t completely suck.
(I’m noding them as we speak so not all of them are here yet, but I’ll be working my way
down from the top.)
The Garden Ballet
Riches
Rainbows
In the Blink of an Eye
Crack
San Marc Summer
School’s Out