How Much Left, You Say?!
Call me crazy, call me insane, call me a maniac with "lost her head" for a name...
But I think I'm going to miss this year. Never mind that that line didn't rhyme perfectly.
It has been an exceptionally eventful year, and so much has changed. I didn't even think it was possible for so much to change in the span of one year, but it did. These past few months--weeks, days, even--have done so much for me. I got to know my floormates very well and to share moments of extreme[ly amusing] idiocy with them, learned to take initiative in my own life and the clubs I am involved in, took chances that I would never have dreamed of taking before, became more comfortable in my own skin and with discovering that I didn't know everything about me that there is to know, got close with so many people that I care about, built on the relationships that already existed, and just grew so much as a person.
With that said, I'll admit that I'm scared about the end of the semester. Things are bound to change within the next three months. People will drift. I'll change, too, for better or for worse on my own summer adventures. But I wouldn't change anything that's happened for the world. These past few days, for instance--learning so much about people I never knew I could open up to, realizing who it is exactly that I'm going to be thinking of every day over the summer and who I might not have a chance to see again until next fall. And I'm glad things are this way. Next year will be the start of something new and exciting, but this summer can start it all, too. I am definitely going to check up on everyone, visit them whenever possible, and make new memories of my own to share even as the school year comes to an incredible close.
So with that said...
Aloha, summertime!
Erk. After the French and PoliSci finals, that is. Ergh. Forget about those! ^^"
And yes, thank you to everyone who answered that horrible question last post about reading and writing--your responses were so interesting! So I'll honestly write what my initial answer was and the painstakingly formed explanation that goes with it.
I would choose...
Writing.
Yes, I realize that not being able to read books would wrench my heart out and I would be worse than a floating soul doomed to wander the earth without substance. But hear me out! On the practical side, you could say that if I never wrote again, I would fail all of my paper-based (and heck, even exam-based) classes, and then in the workplace, and where would I be then? A bum on the streets who could read all day.
Actually, that doesn't sound half bad. But I digress.
If I couldn't write, I feel like I would internally combust or something. Honest to goodness. Imagine having all of those ideas in your head, and never being able to write them down! At least with reading (and I am loathe, absolute loathe to say this in any way, shape, or form, but it must be done), if I don't do it, it will be a dearth of ideas I'll have to deal with, not an overload. So yes, if it absolutely came down to a creepy bugger-eyed alien dangling either the book or the pen and paper over hot boiling lava, I would dive for the writing utensils.
But only if it was a bugger-eyed alien.
Anyway, that's my take on that. I also want to say that for anyone who misinterpreted the LJ cut on the last post ^^ hehe. Gullible mortals!
Just kidding. It was actually just an innocent, normal LJ cut that reflected my feelings. :) It's not my fault if you all read too much into things (*ahem* Coni! *cough*).
Must get some sleep before the French final! I have to wake up in the morning to write the essay for it anyway.
Bon soir, Ala <3
But I think I'm going to miss this year. Never mind that that line didn't rhyme perfectly.
It has been an exceptionally eventful year, and so much has changed. I didn't even think it was possible for so much to change in the span of one year, but it did. These past few months--weeks, days, even--have done so much for me. I got to know my floormates very well and to share moments of extreme[ly amusing] idiocy with them, learned to take initiative in my own life and the clubs I am involved in, took chances that I would never have dreamed of taking before, became more comfortable in my own skin and with discovering that I didn't know everything about me that there is to know, got close with so many people that I care about, built on the relationships that already existed, and just grew so much as a person.
With that said, I'll admit that I'm scared about the end of the semester. Things are bound to change within the next three months. People will drift. I'll change, too, for better or for worse on my own summer adventures. But I wouldn't change anything that's happened for the world. These past few days, for instance--learning so much about people I never knew I could open up to, realizing who it is exactly that I'm going to be thinking of every day over the summer and who I might not have a chance to see again until next fall. And I'm glad things are this way. Next year will be the start of something new and exciting, but this summer can start it all, too. I am definitely going to check up on everyone, visit them whenever possible, and make new memories of my own to share even as the school year comes to an incredible close.
So with that said...
Aloha, summertime!
Erk. After the French and PoliSci finals, that is. Ergh. Forget about those! ^^"
And yes, thank you to everyone who answered that horrible question last post about reading and writing--your responses were so interesting! So I'll honestly write what my initial answer was and the painstakingly formed explanation that goes with it.
I would choose...
Writing.
Yes, I realize that not being able to read books would wrench my heart out and I would be worse than a floating soul doomed to wander the earth without substance. But hear me out! On the practical side, you could say that if I never wrote again, I would fail all of my paper-based (and heck, even exam-based) classes, and then in the workplace, and where would I be then? A bum on the streets who could read all day.
Actually, that doesn't sound half bad. But I digress.
If I couldn't write, I feel like I would internally combust or something. Honest to goodness. Imagine having all of those ideas in your head, and never being able to write them down! At least with reading (and I am loathe, absolute loathe to say this in any way, shape, or form, but it must be done), if I don't do it, it will be a dearth of ideas I'll have to deal with, not an overload. So yes, if it absolutely came down to a creepy bugger-eyed alien dangling either the book or the pen and paper over hot boiling lava, I would dive for the writing utensils.
But only if it was a bugger-eyed alien.
Anyway, that's my take on that. I also want to say that for anyone who misinterpreted the LJ cut on the last post ^^ hehe. Gullible mortals!
Just kidding. It was actually just an innocent, normal LJ cut that reflected my feelings. :) It's not my fault if you all read too much into things (*ahem* Coni! *cough*).
Must get some sleep before the French final! I have to wake up in the morning to write the essay for it anyway.
Bon soir, Ala <3