I've been trying to write this blog post since about a week ago, but things (as well as laziness) appear to have gotten in the way. Things are certainly picking up what with work starting this last week. Much of my homework involves reading, something I still haven't gotten completely used to it would seem. However, I'll just have to get used to it because besides writing and a project for my Creativity class, that's all my homework is all semester. Sounds nice doesn't it?
All of my classes seem pretty awesome so far, with maybe the exception being Art History. As cool as I think learning about dead guys who painted and sculpted amazing things, the class is boring. I am not a 'take notes on what the professor is saying' sort of person. I feel like I can't internalize anything she's saying as I'm scrambling to write it down (this isn't the prof's fault either. She's actually pretty cool-ethereal almost. She literally glides. No joke). Not to mention the room is cold, and I've been sick this past week. This combination as does not promote learning either.
What I do like about all of my other classes in comparison to Art History is that we get to talk about things. Two English classes (World Lit and Studies in Drama) promote discussion and deep thought about the text. Creativity, well this class is honestly just weird at the moment. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be taking out of it quite yet. Our end goal in class is a final project (everything we turn in is related to that project). We're supposed to do something we've never done before that is still, in some way, related to our hobbies and interests. On top of that we're meant to contemplate this idea of transcendence, social change etc. Our projects are, understandably, meant to have a purpose behind them, but I don't entirely know what I have to transcend in my life.
Winter is in full swing this weekend with it being -2 degrees this morning according to Google. There's well over a foot of snow on the ground and as much as I should take out the trash and do the laundry today (note, this was written on Sunday. I did get my laundry done)...I really don't want to trudge through it. The snow is not conducive to the various chores I need to get done.
Today is now Monday, and I should be leaving for class soon, but don't particularly want to. Walking through the snow isn't (as I've said) the funniest thing in the world to do. However, I've got three classes on Monday, two of which I actually enjoy going to.
That being said, I think I'll put on my boots and finish putting my bag together.
Happy Day.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
New Years and Nostalgia
It's a bit late, but Happy New Year.
Winter semester starts tomorrow, and I am officially back on campus as per yesterday. It always seems awkward to me moving in between campus and home--packing up all of my stuff into the van and staying in my room at home which is now home to wintering plants and an unused exercise stepper. I enjoy coming home and spending the break with my parents; however, it is during these times that I also wish I had my own apartment (and a license for that matter), so that I might have some sense of permanence.
Either way, I am excited for the beginning of a new semester and, with it, new classes to explore. The prospect of not having art for six hours a week fills me with a sense of joy and the hopes of more free time and maybe a few more work hours as well. But the first week of class is always an interesting one that almost makes me nervous. With no work and few assignments this early on, I am left with an ungodly amount of time on my hands, which I am always at a loss to deal with. I can't settle into a schedule during this week and for that reason, this week unnerves me. But a schedule will come eventually, and, I am sure, this semester will be over all too soon and, with it, my Junior year at GVSU.
Despite the apparently rapid forthcoming of my senior year of college and the excitement that should come with that, I have been desperately nostalgic for years past in the last few days. A friend of mine, who is a professor at a different school, is once again one of the faculty on a study abroad trip to Tully Cross, Ireland. I was fortunate to be invited along on this trip three years ago when my aunt, also a professor, asked me if I wanted to come. I graduated early from high school, forgoing the 'traditional' senior year and swapping it with four months on the Renvyle Peninsula.
There are just some places that you fall in love with, and Tully Cross was one of them. I get sentimental from time to time when I look the pictures and other scraps of adventure I brought back with me. I even fancied returning on the trip, this time as an actual student, for about a month. I only dropped the idea at the prospect of being apart from everyone for another four months, and that it would set my graduation from school back a whole semester. However, conversing with her through email and reading her own blog of adventures has made my heart ache for Ireland. I was extremely touched to hear that Brian, a local shop owner and sweet, old guy, had asked about me. I miss him and the other people in town, who must only have it worse than students like me. Every year, for the last 38 or so years, a new group of students comes and goes. I'll go back. Maybe I can make it a graduation trip.
I need to finish putting away my things and cleaning the things I left dirty before I left. Tomorrow, I head out to my first three classes of the semester and, probably, the bookstore. I still have a few more books to acquire. Why do they have to be so damned expensive?
Here's to a great semester.
Winter semester starts tomorrow, and I am officially back on campus as per yesterday. It always seems awkward to me moving in between campus and home--packing up all of my stuff into the van and staying in my room at home which is now home to wintering plants and an unused exercise stepper. I enjoy coming home and spending the break with my parents; however, it is during these times that I also wish I had my own apartment (and a license for that matter), so that I might have some sense of permanence.
Either way, I am excited for the beginning of a new semester and, with it, new classes to explore. The prospect of not having art for six hours a week fills me with a sense of joy and the hopes of more free time and maybe a few more work hours as well. But the first week of class is always an interesting one that almost makes me nervous. With no work and few assignments this early on, I am left with an ungodly amount of time on my hands, which I am always at a loss to deal with. I can't settle into a schedule during this week and for that reason, this week unnerves me. But a schedule will come eventually, and, I am sure, this semester will be over all too soon and, with it, my Junior year at GVSU.
Despite the apparently rapid forthcoming of my senior year of college and the excitement that should come with that, I have been desperately nostalgic for years past in the last few days. A friend of mine, who is a professor at a different school, is once again one of the faculty on a study abroad trip to Tully Cross, Ireland. I was fortunate to be invited along on this trip three years ago when my aunt, also a professor, asked me if I wanted to come. I graduated early from high school, forgoing the 'traditional' senior year and swapping it with four months on the Renvyle Peninsula.
There are just some places that you fall in love with, and Tully Cross was one of them. I get sentimental from time to time when I look the pictures and other scraps of adventure I brought back with me. I even fancied returning on the trip, this time as an actual student, for about a month. I only dropped the idea at the prospect of being apart from everyone for another four months, and that it would set my graduation from school back a whole semester. However, conversing with her through email and reading her own blog of adventures has made my heart ache for Ireland. I was extremely touched to hear that Brian, a local shop owner and sweet, old guy, had asked about me. I miss him and the other people in town, who must only have it worse than students like me. Every year, for the last 38 or so years, a new group of students comes and goes. I'll go back. Maybe I can make it a graduation trip.
I need to finish putting away my things and cleaning the things I left dirty before I left. Tomorrow, I head out to my first three classes of the semester and, probably, the bookstore. I still have a few more books to acquire. Why do they have to be so damned expensive?
Here's to a great semester.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)