Right now, I’m free as a bird, and feeling quite confined. I’m done the hard testing – U.S. History, Chem, Calculus. English next Wednesday, though I plan to look over the review books a little. English should be fine, out of all of them. Oh, and “atape” or “ATAPE” is an acronym for “After the AP Exams.” Original, huh.
My God! Two+ months of studying, and I’m finally done. I guess this is the “waiting period,” now. I just…yeah. I wrote so many poems – or it seems like it, since I always reverted to that inner place whenever I had a break from studying…it kept me sane, yet I can’t seem to stop.
I’m reading A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid. I love it. I hate the subject. I am pierced by her scathing, pleasantries-less style of confrontation. I completely agree with her…yet there’s nothing to “agree” upon. It is what it is. America came in, conquered these territories, named them “protectorates,” or otherwise “Americanized” these small native islands…I learned about T. Roosevelt’s “Big Stick” policy, about how the “Pacific Ocean looks more like an American lake,” and it sickens me, thinking back about it. There should be some other way, to be a world power. Some other way…if not more peaceful, at least less conformist. Kincaid speaks of how the tourism industry affects Antigua, changing it from the “Old Antigua.” How the library she once loved has a sign hanging over it, with the words “Will repair in 1937” or something or the other. It saddens me, is shocking.
I want to be in a calm place, but feel freer.
listening to I Want Tears, Michelle Branch