Sometimes getting started is the hardest part of doing something. Like this column, for instance. Although I’ve written hundreds of papers in my day, I haven’t written a column since I was in high school, and finding my inspiration for this particular project is proving quite challenging.
I guess my muse is down at Taylor’s having a beer, enjoying the first inklings of summer sun. In fact, now that I mention it, my muse and I have been separated for a while, about four years to be precise.
Come to think of it, I’ve been the one doing all the work, reading all those terrifically dry chapters in overpriced text books, coming up with brilliant theses for papers that meandered into eventual oblivion and furiously scribbling notes while simultaneously doodling in the margins and watching the clock tick, tick, tick slowly down.
No one but I was there those late nights writing last minute term papers, the blue glow of the computer screen illuminating the dark quiet. For a while I used to consider the plant in my bedroom my best friend because I spent more time in the company of it than people. It was indeed a dark time
How many sunny Sundays did I spend inside struggling to stay motivated enough to squeeze one more essay out of my … ear, just one more damned paper to appease the powers that be?
Lots. And lots. I did them all, and now, as I stand on the brink of the rest of my post-graduation life, I must say that college has been an experience filled with lessons on self-sufficency, personal reliance and independence.
Spending so much time in the company of myself (and my ever-loyal plant) has been, in many ways, liberating and empowering. Through many a solitary night working on deadline and finding creative nooks I didn’t know existed, I learned about myself, discovering the core of my personality.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but all the hours spent inside my head searching for inspiration were really a type of meditation. I’m thankful for the opportunity to have spent some time alone before entering the crowded world of co-workers and commuters and spouses and children and so on and so on.
Who needs a muse when you’ve got a plant?