(no subject)
Jogging through campus has become somewhat of a study in memory, and more often than not, I stop to think.
I looked back at my LJ updates in this diary from a year ago and realized how much more poetic I was last summer. My writing style has changed in Spain, and I think that it has to do with my changing in Spain, although I couldn't explain how I've changed. I feel quieter, more contained, and I suspect that my writing is similar. I go back to Rochester, and I feel so... out of place.
When I was in Sevilla, I would idealize Seattle and UW, wanting to be here. Now that I'm here in Seattle, I idealize Sevilla, wishing I could do all the things that I didn't have time to do while I was still there. UW doesn't seem to be as green as I had imagined it, nor as protectively calm. I wish I could be the way I was last summer, when I was more innocent. Now I just feel old.
I sleep, and my dreams are so intense that they lead me right to my alarm, without the customary rousing at 6:00 or 7:00 AM. Always, in my dreams, that yearning and compassion entertwined.
I looked back at my LJ updates in this diary from a year ago and realized how much more poetic I was last summer. My writing style has changed in Spain, and I think that it has to do with my changing in Spain, although I couldn't explain how I've changed. I feel quieter, more contained, and I suspect that my writing is similar. I go back to Rochester, and I feel so... out of place.
When I was in Sevilla, I would idealize Seattle and UW, wanting to be here. Now that I'm here in Seattle, I idealize Sevilla, wishing I could do all the things that I didn't have time to do while I was still there. UW doesn't seem to be as green as I had imagined it, nor as protectively calm. I wish I could be the way I was last summer, when I was more innocent. Now I just feel old.
I sleep, and my dreams are so intense that they lead me right to my alarm, without the customary rousing at 6:00 or 7:00 AM. Always, in my dreams, that yearning and compassion entertwined.