Hi. It’s been a while. Sorry, I’ve been a bit neglectful of you guys. I have a confession though: I’m a Boonie. What a shocker that one is, right? Some people in this world get their jollies by pushing numbers around, and I guess I’m becoming one of the jolliest. Maybe there’s not glamour, I don’t know, but the future’s shiny to me. We won’t be lawyers, and heck, most of us on the ground floor of Boone won’t be going to med school. We get the research/engineering path.
Some jerk said that you have to spend 10,000 hours doing something before you are truly a master at it. Thankfully that means I am a master of sitting, sleeping, being awake, listening to ABBA, and potentially even thinking. The last is to be debated. Yet, there is a particular mastery that I crave too deeply. The metrics are not entirely applicable, but still the hours linger when I start to think about my progress towards the dream goal:
I have been very fortunate as a student here at The College of Idaho to have two majors that I’ve loved in such a way as to make my probable future as a waitress somewhat worth it (I’m kidding Professor Schaper, I know how much you hate the waitress jokes). When I made the choice to major in Literature in English and Theatre, I knew it would likely be challenging, as both degrees rested within the same PEAK category.
The thing about being a senior is that your so busy doing stuff for class, for clubs, for real life, that you don’t really have time to cry as much as you’d like. I mean, that’s a problem I hear people have. Not me, though. I never cry, especially not right now as I write this.
Well, this semester certainly threw me back into the swing of things quickly. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, since it is the spring semester of my senior year, but still. The first week of class, my professors kept saying, “Since you’re not that busy yet…” and I would internally hyperventilate because I was just as busy as I had been in the middle of last semester.
As someone who is always in some degree of panic, I cannot express how much Winter Term means to me. Winter Term is quiet. College, like your Aunt Tammy’s personality, can only be described as much a lot; people are always expecting things from you, there’s shouting, and more often than not you’re crying. Winter Term is a break in the song, the instrumental jazz bridge before the swinging upbeat of the final refrain.