Art is Death and Chocolate Ice Cream

So, how are students supposed to focus on assignments and crazy-big projects when the devils heap up like mountains and volcanoes? These tectonic wonders will cause strokes one of these days. Red bulls just aren't healthy. Sleepless nights and the pondering of grade-suicides are not either. The Young Are The Future of America! or so they say. And we students will be cross-eyed mummies by then, too, with aspartame-guts to boot.

If you love your art, your love will prevail and all your problems will be solved! Rather, reality is quite the opposite. You love your art. But you hate what it does to your soul, to your mind, to your body. You may say to your professor, "Oh, I'm fine. I actually like this hue of red that is bleeding all over that piece of soul you returned to me," but your subconscious rails, "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I love you, Mr. Teacher-who-is-so-awesome-that-he-could-be-a-god. But right now I hate you. And your pen. Ha!" No, art is a leading source of suicide. Or at least suicide of that precious little hoard of self-confidence and diffident skill an artist trying to establish. Bah, humbug.

You want to quit. But you can't. You won't in the end, and you know it, so you stick with your piece of Hell. Actually, you don't stick with it out of perseverance. Skip perseverance. You're the pathetic artist in the corner, curled into the fetal position with melted choco ice cream dried onto your face. You're too busy dying inside to walk the long hall to the registrar's office and sputter out that you want to quit and be a perennial hobo.

So, for any aspiring writers out there, take heed. Don't. Do. It. Don't enter the creative writing field. You will hate every minute of it. All joy of writing will be sucked out in great gulps from your inner core, and the negative that is left will be converted to a loathing that will distract you with the ice cream bowl and facebook. Don't write. Leave it alone. Place a giant red X over the "creative writing" major listing of whatever college interests you. If you're a freetimer, take that pen in your hand and tape it somewhere you'll never find it again. Stop. Writing.

And why did I just write this post? I love writing. Duh.