It's been an intense year, but my classes have finally come to a close.
And by finally, I mean, "Wow, that one year of classes felt like about forty years in the wilderness."
No really. I read Exodus for half of this semester, and it all started to make sense.
(Please realize that this is all exaggeration.. it really was not that bad...)
I think back to last semester when I thought News Writing was a lot of work and then I laugh as I think about Investigative Reporting this semester. But it's over. And I nailed the class, so I'm ok.
I can tell you right now that I have never been more satisfied with or proud of an A in my entire life.
...I literally just stopped thinking for a few minutes. Just now. That's how exhausted my mind is. I'm not even sure how words are coming out of my mouth right now.. or out of my fingers. I don't even know right now.
Even beyond school, this has been one of those physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually taxing years of my life. I haven't really even had time to process it all.
When I do though.. oh be ready. It will be written about.
I've already begun the documenting process of life as an RA. So far all I have is how I first got pulled up to RA while in Lebanon (those of you who have followed my blog got to be a part of all of that craziness).
I'm not sure where to begin, but I suppose that's my project for the 13 hour drive home on Sunday.
I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it when it's done.
Probably just keep it in the chest in my room with all of the rest of my million journals. And maybe I'll reference it when I need to know how to deal with interesting people or really bizarre situations that involve people in bathrobes.
That's another story for another time.
This year. My mind is just mush from it all.
I'm convinced that everyone and anyone who has met me within the last month of school thinks I'm an air-headed, mindless individual.
Sorry, folks. If only I could somehow explain to you how completely fried my being is, then I would.
Actually, let me try.
My being is so fried that walking to the bathroom takes mental motivation.
My being is so fried that I forget to chew my food and simply swallow (no, this is not a joke).
My being is so fried that I forgot my last name the other day.
My being is so fried that I become even more awkward that I already am.
My being is so fried that the South's chicken dishes would be put to shame.
My being is so fried that I could pass for dead. But I'm not dead, so that's good.
I long for the day when I can think abstractly again. I see that day soon, but it hides beneath a canopy shaped like New England. And once I am rejuvenated in all that is Northern, I will be able to face another year in the South with strength and swift movement.
I'm just going to stop typing...
And by finally, I mean, "Wow, that one year of classes felt like about forty years in the wilderness."
No really. I read Exodus for half of this semester, and it all started to make sense.
(Please realize that this is all exaggeration.. it really was not that bad...)
I think back to last semester when I thought News Writing was a lot of work and then I laugh as I think about Investigative Reporting this semester. But it's over. And I nailed the class, so I'm ok.
I can tell you right now that I have never been more satisfied with or proud of an A in my entire life.
...I literally just stopped thinking for a few minutes. Just now. That's how exhausted my mind is. I'm not even sure how words are coming out of my mouth right now.. or out of my fingers. I don't even know right now.
Even beyond school, this has been one of those physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually taxing years of my life. I haven't really even had time to process it all.
When I do though.. oh be ready. It will be written about.
I've already begun the documenting process of life as an RA. So far all I have is how I first got pulled up to RA while in Lebanon (those of you who have followed my blog got to be a part of all of that craziness).
I'm not sure where to begin, but I suppose that's my project for the 13 hour drive home on Sunday.
I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it when it's done.
Probably just keep it in the chest in my room with all of the rest of my million journals. And maybe I'll reference it when I need to know how to deal with interesting people or really bizarre situations that involve people in bathrobes.
That's another story for another time.
This year. My mind is just mush from it all.
I'm convinced that everyone and anyone who has met me within the last month of school thinks I'm an air-headed, mindless individual.
Sorry, folks. If only I could somehow explain to you how completely fried my being is, then I would.
Actually, let me try.
My being is so fried that walking to the bathroom takes mental motivation.
My being is so fried that I forget to chew my food and simply swallow (no, this is not a joke).
My being is so fried that I forgot my last name the other day.
My being is so fried that I become even more awkward that I already am.
My being is so fried that the South's chicken dishes would be put to shame.
My being is so fried that I could pass for dead. But I'm not dead, so that's good.
I long for the day when I can think abstractly again. I see that day soon, but it hides beneath a canopy shaped like New England. And once I am rejuvenated in all that is Northern, I will be able to face another year in the South with strength and swift movement.
I'm just going to stop typing...
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