I feel stifled. Sometimes I get the feeling that I could be doing do much more. There is something about freedom that makes everything so much more enjoyable and worthwhile. i suppose when you look at college as a free choice, rather than something I have to do, it becomes a different experience.
I always feel like I’m worried about satisfying the professor’s expectations. the last thing I want to do is neglect my voice, my creative opinion. Maybe my experiences led me to perceive things differently. maybe the professor doesn’t understand that. Maybe I want to synthesis the material into something that works for me, rather than the rote understanding.
I hate, DESPISE, professors that mark me wrong not based on my knowledge, not based on my effort, but on my misinterpretation of their expectations. this just makes me wanna write off academics altogether. It makes me think that they want to manufacture drones. Not freethinkers.
What the hell. Where can I go and learn? To question? to delve more into a subject than the simple essays they give, the simple research they assign. I want to explore, to engage, to totally submerge my passions in the material and follow them where they lead. NOT prune my creativity to match the expectations of lame professors. LAME. Professors who do nothing more than lecture. They don’t engage. They have their tenure. They have their TA’s. They are all a inane. They are callous to curiosity. They loath the energy of free thought, the wildness of creativity. it cannot be restrained. It cannot be precedented. It is new, fresh, and begging to be understood more. WHY am i told to deny these inclinations? Why am i forced to divert my energy into reading their mind? I CAN do this… WHO CANT! the question is… who wants to??????? WHO WANTS TO?? Its far easier to say and get away with what wants to be heard. It’s familiar and easy to tackle, easy to critique. What’s takes more effort… is to THINK. Thinking is a free experience… it involves letting the passions run free… letting the information assimilate into all the corners of the mind. It’s weird, unfamiliar, wild, ferocious, and often times uncomfortable. BUT it offers the most insight. It requires more energy, more justification, more thought, more trust.
When I write for me, i trust what I write. They are my thoughts, intimate and unique. I LOATHE writing for an audience. Who can tell what they want to hear? What they ask seldom aligns with what they expect. Is it our job to satisfy their understanding? To produce for their satisfaction? If I was told to write for me, I would be more of a person. The soft whispers of my intuition would learn to proclaim a loud and bold tone that resonates within all who hear me. My voice would force itself through the paper into the fallow minds of the readers where it would root and conjure a fruit of understanding. I would know myself and be unafraid of casting my ambitions to light.
Knowledge you say? Who wants to be encumbered by useless knowledge? What is it to gain the world but lose myself?
William Dare 