I don't know why people cast me as an "intellectual." It's happened all my life. I'll bet it's because of my glasses. Because I'll tell you right now, I'm no intellectual. I'm not even especially sharp. I lack critical thinking skills; I struggle to say more than "it was good," or "I didn't like it." Taking these English classes is like trying to squeeze myself into someone else's mold -- which is exactly what I spent all my adult years doing: first, the marine corps and then all those fucking secretarial jobs in korporate Amerika.
I've come to learn that I'm happiest when I'm covered in clay slip and up to my elbows in it, when something begins to appear beneath my hands as if I have nothing to do with it. I go to a special place in hands-on activity that eludes me when I'm trying to employ language.
1 Comments:
On the other hand, you said that very well.
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