More than taking a class, I like the anticipation. Day 1 can be good too. Even more, I like having taken a class. Especially walking out from the final.
As an aspiring writer, I often wonder, "What do I want to write about?" Well, I think about the whole writer schema. Could that be Me? Sure, appreciate nature, learn a buncha stuff, be myself. Sounds good. Wait. You know that, I know that, People like Thoreau have taught us all that. So, keep that all in mind, but I want to knock your socks off. Those who were "the greats of their time" aren't nearly as cool as the ones that were "the first of their time." One day, I will inspire a new era in the literary world.
I'm looking to the end of the week 'cause the other days are just so bleak I'm feeling like some kinda geek-- Looking for places I can hide Where I don't have to speak
Back again, after a disappointingly short trip home. A journey during which I realize yet again that I never loved home until I left it. And I discover again that it's not being in the house where I used to sleep that I love so much, but rather emerging from the wilderness and visiting friends. At this point I remember when I was trapped at home, and nearly began to think that being the reclusive type might be kind of interesting. Now that I've broken free, there's no going back that wouldn't involve whatever amount of depression. Living is so dull unless there are others to share it with. Here is where I mope about how I'm waiting for friends to come back, and how school starting on the third of January is dumb. Then I say thanks that boredom is my biggest worry.
