The following is an unedited, stream-of-consciousness personal journal used to experiment with different subjects outside of assignments and to practice free-writing. It shouldn't (at all) be viewed as a portfolio of polished work.

To see examples of my professional writing, please visit ginabegin.contently.com. For photography, please visit eyeem.com/u/ginabegin or my Instagram channel @ginabegin.

The Cycle

Artist & Photo Info: quickrelease.tv/?p=1244
special thanks to this guy for the pic

My professor, an urban planner, was passionate about people and life. He connected with his students because we could tell he cared about us. He took the time to sit down and look us in our eyes. He shared things with us that most professors were too frightened to speak up about but the things that mattered most: his ideas, his opinions, his outlook on life.

We respected him.

One morning he really worked himself up into a rage. He had our attention as he walked up and down the classroom aisles, arms gradually losing their tame demeanor, eyes piercing each of us as they washed over the room.  As he delved into his diatribe we grew increasingly somber, the reality of what he was saying sinking into the depths of each of us. His message can't be justified without his passion to back it up, but I'll make an attempt at his words:

We wake up in a box. Once we feel sufficiently prepared to head out (or time dictates the need) we climb into a smaller box and sit. This smaller box takes us to yet another box where we'll sit away the majority of our day. After sitting the required 8-9 hours in this box, we return to the small box and sit there until it reaches our first box of the day, where we'll sit out the rest of the hours, addicted to an illuminated box, until we rest ourselves from the taxing sitting position. This cycle is on repeat for forty (plus) years of our lives, or until we die from it.

-adapted from Stephen A. Goldsmith, my professor, a brilliant man

At different points in my life I've been able to give up on one or two of the boxes. I lived in a tent for a few months (best home I've had yet). I worked where you could walk for miles and never hit anything resembling a wall, let alone a box. And now, since I am tied to two other boxes out of convenience's sake, I've dramatically lessened my dependence on the third: my car. My two feet and Sophie Deux helped me disrupt the cycle.


Summary: Live longer. Take a break from boxes.

3 comments:

  1. my breakfast this morning came out of yet another box

    ReplyDelete
  2. My goal for the next 2 years is to move where we can walk more. I'd love to be able to walk to the market or even a restaurant.

    ReplyDelete

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