Oh, internet.
Do you remember just a few months ago when I was so proud (and a little cocky) that staying off-campus suited me to a tee? Today, I'm ruminating over whether I should move into a hall. And not just any hall, mind you. Fenner Hall, which has all the benefits of an in-campus hall except that it is off-campus. (That was mean. I honestly do like Fenner. They have maps and flags all over in case we get lost.)
On a random note, since I broke my glasses and put on contacts a few months ago, people seem to have trouble recognizing me. At first their squinting and disbelief was quite amusing to me (I even tried a "I'm Rachel's sister" on a friend), until I realized that it was my lips that identified me. I still find their reactions funny, but I now purse my lips as an extra precaution whenever I'm squinted at.
Which reminds me, I've been engaged in a staring match with statistics in a bloodthirsty battle to the death. It doesn't like me, and I reciprocate that loathing proportionately. But with a few tuition sessions with a friend, we have now reached an impasse. I will work hard at it, and in return it will tolerate me for another month or so. It's working out so far.
More often than not, I find myself wondering about what I am going to do in the future. And this line of thought scares me excessively. I still have about two more years of undergrad, but it seems the deadline to decide is getting tantalizingly closer each time someone asks me what my plans are after I graduate. I always wish I have a good answer prepared for that situation, but I don't. And these days I feel as if the answer will never come.
And before I forget, Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, you! (I'm actually seething with regret now, because I have already eaten the mooncakes I had.) But here's to hoping you have more patience and good sense than me, and have some lovely mooncakes to enjoy as well.
