The Thing about College.

There's something different about living with person or persons only known shortly. I'm not talking about the personal chore of changing and unchanging in some dark nook, or closing the door to the bathroom, but to exhibit the habitual aspect of yourself: the way in which you blow-dry your hair and wave your head upside down, or the way you arrange your roast beef sandwich or printing looseleaves.

There's an element of you in those everyday things, and I feel, in some way, you lose a part of your mystery, like some other force tearing into your embeddedness before Christmas.

I also think it's strange to sleep so close to someone, seeing one thousand sunrises and sunsets and waking up to only witness one. This most sacred and secretive time for dreams is shared. Perhaps I'm just a very private person in some respects, but I would reveal what I think about the most intimate topics before coming to terms with someone else seeing the most mundane, and that alone is what irritates me. 

Light flows our war of mocking words

 Today, we read Arnold in my English literature class. On this gray morning day, pouring rain, we choose to read Arnold, which heightens its melancholy nature. Hearing "The Buried Life" aloud gave me this distinctive physiological reaction, the way in which beauty makes you feel is indescribable. For me, it's not a tug or pull, but a gush of appreciation. Sometimes, I appear half-human, like in Microeconomics when we talk about the importance of capitalism and free trade, always, it's comforting to know that I am alive.


And there arrives a lull in the hot race
Wherein he doth for ever chase
That flying and elusive shadow, rest.
An air of coolness plays upon his face,
And an unwonted calm pervades his breast.
And then he thinks he knows
The hills where his life rose,
And the sea where it goes.

The language is gorgeous, and the theme is universal, the foundation of memorable poetry. Away from my parents, away from everything my world was, I have since taken time for myself. It is so so important to worship your needs and your desires. For me, what beauty arises from a coffee and a good book!

As I've finished all my assigned readings for this semester, there is room on the bookshelf for the art of pure enjoyment. I am perusing through Pablo Neruda, but am now faithful to Dorian Gray. If I feel depressingly enough, I'll start Wuthering Heights.

October Life.

So, now that I'm in college, I still don't feel anymore different.
I mean, I was expecting this drastic change, the comic cup to overflow with everything new and everything ingenious.
But so far, everything is mundane, beige.
Which, I really don't mind, but then I also don't mind not romanticizing anymore.
I like all my classes, and my professors are decent, and I enjoy the information I am learning.
But it's not anything earth shatteringly, deliciously good.
Sometimes, I still think I stand out on campus. Could it be my walk?

Well, anyways, I don't care. Nothing has changed, but oh, I do get very annoyed when my professors are late to class. I cut them some slack sometimes, but I am obviously paying them with time and money.