So, I woke up about half an hour ago from one of the evening catnaps that have become a survival strategy since starting school, and now remember that sleep does having some redeeming values.
I had a truly delightful dream that TASP didn't end, and on August 4 all we did was switch seminars; the Cornell I people got to learn about the Renaissance, and the Cornell II-ers got to bask in the glory of Kirshner whilst learning nothing*. I was aware that it was August 28, but we were all still there. It was so real (except for the part about my pink-coiffed school librarian going around making all of our beds), and sadly, this was the best part of my day. I even was walking up the stairs to the branch office and one of you guys (don't even remember who) randomly hugged me. This woke me up and made me very happy for about seven minutes without remembering why. Thank you all.
In other news, my school had a mandatory assembly today to honor, in the words of our revered principal, "our most distinguished alumni (sic)" - a NASCAR driver. Additionally, it was so hot today that two of my classes had to be held in the library (because our classrooms don't have air conditioning. We live in the fucking desert.). Without Descartes, the Common App and sporadic hallucinations/realities of being reunited with you guys, I would be insane. GET ME OUT OF HERE.
The actual reason for this post, however, is not to complain about my school nor to descend into unhealthy TASP reminiscences, but to offer myself up as a victim of your guys' letter-writing impulses. Seriously, please send me something; nothing beats the excitement of getting mail that is not a college brochure or a bank statement, at least in my book. I will reciprocate, of course. My address:
3270 Rocky Sage Rd.
Jamul, CA 91935
Love you guys.
-Abigail
*The latter, especially Niko and David P., were quite indignant about that.
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2 comments:
I'm totally writing you.
Totally, completely, wholly, definitely.
As soon as I get half a chance.
Especially since you live on Rocky Sage Road. It's either beautiful, scenic and poetic, or it's the worst ice cream flavor ever. I'm so excited.
Also, the Common App is ruining my life, I think. Descartes maybe already did.
Hooray for dreams! I haven't had any TASP dreams nearly as elaborate as that, but my pancake breakfast dream from the last week of TASP has recurred several times. Maybe it'll become one of those lifelong dreams that represent the dreamer's deepest fears. If it does, I don't know what I'll do, because its meaning utterly mystifies me. Oh well.
Incidentally, I post this here just because it's the latest entry: how do I become part of the blog so that I'm able to post here and so forth? I'm probably being stupid and missing something incredibly obvious here, but I can't for the life of me work it out.
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