Circus

Something is so enticing yet so aggravating about this.

circus

I know some part is just jealousy. Why can't i wear amateur stage make up and contort myself in brightly striped socks? Well, I can. I just can't...I mean I don't. No one's really asked me to. I don't want to anyway. It looks stupid.

There's just such a smugness to it!

And why shouldn't there be. Its so romantic and self absorbed, like most things that young people do.

And why shouldn't I be annoyed. I'm in the library on a summer day reading articles on the right way to count migration data. Really. Whole articles written by people with a long string of degrees in economics and public health and sociology, bickering whether the label "Africa" includes the entire continent or not. Whether origin is birth or by citizenship. Pages and pages of bar graphs.

They are* very nice bar graphs. And enough coffee will do great service is furnishing the imagination, as to the romanticism of what one might be pursuing. But the whole task is much easier if, rather than a tedious public health master's thesis that no one will read, if one was a machete juggler.