|
| So here I am, sitting in on my three classes for the first time in over a month. Scary? I think so.
Grated i was almost an hour late, cuz I took some time to meander across library walk and watch the Aggressive PC Bird attack unsuspecting passer-bys and wait for my muse to show up. She hasn't really, but she sent me a tweet, so I wrote only a bird's brain worth.
So let us discuss the topic on everyone's minds. (At least, it WOULD be on everyone's minds only if their minds weren't currently crammed with thoughts of books and lecture notes and sheafs of parchment and end of the year exams.)
GRADUATION.
>> "It's not a graduation! He's moving from fourth grade to the fifth grade."
"It's a ceremony -- "
"It's psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity, but if someone is genuinely exceptional --"
<<
In all likelihood, I am mediocre. I used to want to be great - to be on stage, to wow strangers with my genuinely exceptional skills. I still do. But it's different. Would you say then, I am less naive, or that I've (woe is me) grown up?
Fortunately my Peter Pan complex is also at a mediocre level - I define my complex as simply a crush, on that tiao-pi-dan with the mischievous grin and a tendency to forget that everyone except him must one day grow up. True, he is self-centered and petty and arrogant, sometimes. But who isn't. It would take a better person than I to not throw Tink-worthy tantrums at him.
But I digress. I used to be terrified of Graduation. My friends (all brainier than I and Ravenclaw worthy) had it all planned out - more school. But not just any school, oh no. They are all taking their MCATs or their DATs or their OATs (teehee), or they have all already been accepted into prestigious pharmacy schools (*tinacoughUCSFcough*). Where does that leave me? With no plan, except to enjoy the extension that I gave myself on college life this summer, pretending to still be an undergrad but attending no classes except for one to get a bartending license.
So yea, that used to terrify me. Wes used to feel in the same boat, I know. But he has his passion, and is good at it. We are not all that fortunate, haha. I used to be terrified. Now I'm just kind of excited. I don't really know what the difference is. Perhaps it is because (self-centered as this is) I know that I will succeed, no matter what I choose. That I can have an almost perfect job that fulfills me, but i can also have my on-the-side passion, be it words or dance or travel. Also, perhaps it is because I know I have a great safety net. I have a wonderful network of loving family and brilliant friends, and I know they will stand by me and support me through it all.
But I'd like to think that there's this too: I know no matter what my next step is, or my next three steps is, the best is always yet to come. I had a blast in college - the best time of my life so far. but there will always be something better waiting for me (just around the river bend). Even though there will be hard times, and I know I will probably eat some bitterness (chinese phrasing at work yay), I'd like to think I can make lemonade. Or, to my preference, honey-lemon tea (iced or hot, depending on the season). With maybe a splash of passionfruit.
So cheers, UCSD. Thanks for a wonderful ride. | | |
| I don't mind studying with people. I don't mind sharing my econ tutor notes. But don't come over to your friend's friend's place and borrow my notes and then go upstairs to study without me. Because I know both your friends, but I don't know YOU.
AND IF YOU'RE GOING TO USE MY FUCKING NOTES PLEASE SPARE ME MORE THAN A GLANCE BEFORE YOU STEAL THEM UPSTAIRS. THANKS FUCKER.
But I won't say anything because I'm a passive-aggressive pushover | | |
| Yes, its 4:24 am. I am still wide awake and in bed with my new quiet laptop and accidentally woke up tina. but we're having a good conversation.
I felt like writing, but my keys are kinda loud. But how reminiscent of Before. When I used to stay up when the mood struck me and write. I miss it. But I also know that tomorrow morning, I will miss my sleep.
My time would be better spent catching up on studying, but that would make me unhappy. ok so i be back later. in the morning, after i write a couple paragraphs. | | |
| So I have this roommate. She's generally pretty normal, but occasionally a little strange. Like last night, for instance. I come home from practice at 3 am (an unusually fun(ny) late Gilman practice, might I add. Fun people + late night + warm weather = Gilman?)
Anyway.
I come home and put my hard earned ("who wants to swipe me??) Earl's Place snacks on the kitchen counter without turning on the lights. Shower and then crawl into bed with my hair wet. Wake up the next morning to the sounds of Tina getting ready for class, get up with my bird's nest hair and while i'm attempting to straighten it out, she says:
"Did Jen tell you about the spiders last night?"
"What spiders."
So EVIDENTLY, the occasionally-strange-Jen, [who? whom?] I have always thought disliked bugs and such a great deal ("Ew. Nature") and Aferny found a bunch of black widows camping out on our porch. (Side note: evidently Clayton did too. and then one entered into our household as he came in. and then he squished it). Jen and Aferny killed a bunch and then, in the NAME OF CURIOSITY, kept one as a pet. or something. It is currently sitting on our DINING ROOM TABLE in an empty spaghetti sauce jar.
..
I KNOW RIGHT.
but all creepiness aside, its kind of cute. Jen, not the spider. and its actually a kind of cool picture that she has of it (I have named it Black Sally. I don't know what she calls it.) When I saw it this morning, after dragging Tina away from her computer so she could accompany me to view the big bad spider, it looked kind of dead. and crunched up. But the picture its spider legs are extended in all its Spiderwoman-pouncing glory.
It's still a little weird. especially since i felt like it was watching me when I was making lunch today. I believe Eugene left a comment on the picture that says "you're all fucked" or something to that extent. thanks Eugene. But Tina and I console ourselves with the fact that at least our room is the furthest from the kitchen.
Jen, unfortunately, might be the first one to go.
| | |
| It had not been his intent to kiss her.
It had not simply been his intent to kiss her.
it had not been his intent to simply kiss her.
I wrote that at work the other day, but I don't remember which one it was.
I'm sitting in Econ of Immigration by my lonesome today... Carolyn didn't come to class. I am super bored. Well, not really. I am playing with my shiny new laptop.
this is not much of an entry. but i will be back later. | | |
|
