one hour

Posted On Dec 15, 2019 By admin With Comments Off

one hour. one chunk of my day that i’ve set aside for writing because damn, i haven’t blogged in forever and it’s stressing me out( alongside a emcee of other things i’m anxious about, many of which aren’t even my own concerns)

what should i write about? i could talk about my weekend, which i spent dancing with my unit and chilling with my storey in Maine. i could tell you about Ring the Alarm, the dance is demonstrating that my squad is holding tomorrow, and how we’ve been working really hard to applied everything together–but wait, that deserves its own post.

maybe i could talk about how i believe is a general impression of nervousnes at how not-together my life is right now, like how i totally discounted my physics pset since i was drained after the midterm last week and how i didn’t study nearly enough for a quiz that should’ve been easy, or even how i’m not drinking fairly water or dining health at all, and how all of this is documented in a monthly bullet journal that i stopped satisfy out within a few weeks.

oh! recently i’ve feel about where i was/ what i was doing precisely a year ago. i should be able to write about that? i move for ten minutes through my Google Drive to confirm my suspicion that i was drowning in college apps at this time last year…lo and saw:” college essay dump”,” princeton app ,”” common app explanation 2 ,” and” whO AM i ?”. likewise, math squad spreadsheets, AP Computer Science duties, communications for my public speaking class, a wide array of digital nutrient and habit trackers, and wield from when i was in a bad arrange and was desperately freelancing to make as much money as possible.

out of curiosity, i click on my November bullet journal spreadsheet, but the “mood” section reaches me certainly, really sad. at that point in my life, i was lonely, anxious about not going into MIT, and struggling to deal with personal controversies. when i wasn’t revising my college essays, i was applying for random scholarships in a frantic effort to validate myself and channeling my ardours into Spotify playlists to reconciled with my burgeoning disbelief and self-hatred.

i close the tab.

on a happier memo, one positive vistum of my otherwise hellish major time of high school was that i was reading a lot —

148 volumes within 12 months, 01

damn. imagine having time to read at MIT …

in fact. at this time last year, i was reading

Everything I Never Told You02

this book fucked. me. up.

and Maus and rereading Harry Potter and the Inkheart trilogy. i don’t remember much about my own experience of reading and rereading these works, but i do know that rediscovering Harry Potter and Inkheart was incredibly fulfilling.

shit. it’s been 28 instants. i should choose a topic immediately. perhaps i can write about how i’ve attached Burton Conner’s Transition Team so i can move my singer see regarding the dorm’s upcoming renovation, and how the first confront, which was last week, was just as upsetting as i’d expected it is a matter of. idol, it’s so hard to think about how my home is being divested away from myself and my society; yesterday, my flooring chair sent out an email about what our living group is do next year, and read it drew me tear up. our community being split up is inevitable, and though i participated my flooring knowing fully well that i’ll be torn from a significant portion of the group once renovation comes around, i’m still not emotionally prepared for it.

but, again, the renovation is something that affects a large group of parties in a profound highway, so it surely deserves its own series of posts.

20 minutes left.

perhaps i can write about the rookie meeting and exploratory class that i recently chose to drop–yes, in November–or the FOMO that i’m struggling with regarding choosing between two fixeds of doubled majors, or how i’m applying to MISTI for next summertime, or how freaking aroused i am for IAP. but there’s not much for me to say about these things; not sufficient, at least.

i glance outside. it’s not even 5:00 p.m., but the darkness is humbling. it’s also frigid, so the walk back to my dorm will be exceedingly nauseating. i wonder what i’m doing for dinner…i don’t have much food at home and don’t feel like cooking, but i start to look up recipes anyway–

focus. focus. can i cram an intensive reflection on how much( or little) i’ve changed in these few months at MIT into these last-place eight hours? can i boosting the fragments of ideas i’ve considered in this past hour? can i rehearsal my creativity in accordance with procedures i want to instead of throwing a stream-of-consciousness into a Google Doc and announcing it a epoch?

i guess not.

i have to run to a class and then an advising appointment. and then i have to somehow get my life together before 7 pm, which is when my biweekly five hours of dance begins.

i’ll precisely find an hour another day.

picture of sunset