It has been asked if I am happy now that I have changed my major to art. I don’t think happiness is something that can be achieved. There are moments where it’s like “Oh, I am happy.” These are moments, some seem eternal; mostly of late they are fleeting. Art, as a major- it’s complicated, and by that I mean, intimate. It’s to new to know if I will have a higher occurrence of the moments of happiness with the new major. We are still getting acquainted, and I have all 8am classes next semester. But now, in these last days before the due dates of enormous papers for my final required philosophy classes I know that I don’t have to write anymore after this. I may chose to, but that is not to be thought of now. For now I have to write them, and then take the accompanying tests and convince myself that these things do have ultimate meaning today for what I want to pursue tomorrow, because right now my happy moments are coming from slowly drinking lemon ginger tea.
An Ode to David Katzman-
no more will there be late night Risk games
chain smoking
watching you duct tape your clothes together
wondering if you ever shower
or the walking aimlessly wondering why
why
why why
everything
and it being sort of okay
because at least we were wondering about
the why
with an other
metaphorical twin
adiu
but not forever