Four more days until the end of summer…and then, my sophomore year at UBC. My summer this year is filled with new understandings. Hiding in the basement watching three movies in a row and avoiding the vicious heat, suddenly finding Sanada Hiroyuki is surprisingly and undeniably handsome. Satisfying my addiction of udons, which I gobble down greedily and crave for more. Wasting time on Facebook, making friends whom I have never seen, posting on their walls as if we’ve been best pals forever. Taking a summer class, learning that not every professor is easy to please. Reading book after book after book, developing an obsession with autobiographies and Chinese-Canadian writers. Sitting through hours that are stuffed with boredom. Speeding through hours that never last long enough.
Most importantly, I guess…I found myself. Who I really am, and…I found myself closer to God, closer than I have ever been.
I look forward to my second year. I am living in dorm, same as my first year, but this time…there’s a kitchen, so I can actually cook. Which isn’t something I’m bad at, or something I’m unwilling to do…I’m actually quite good at it, or…it might just be my narcissism. You know, it’s hard to condemn myself.
Originally I’m scheduled to move in on Sunday, but both of my parents have to work on that day, so I’m left with no car. Not that I’ll actually be motivated to move all my stuff completely on my own and drive all the way over to UBC…because I have no sense of direction whatsoever, and I get lost on roads more easily than I get lost on math. I will DIE. So…I must be super needy on occasions like this. And after all, I will mostly be away from home for a year…and this is the one of the few times I get to be a kid to my parents.
I am going to eat some apples now…haven’t eaten fruit for days.
I am also writing two short stories at the same time…flash fiction. One of them I shall send to a writing contest and see what happens. Sometimes I wonder how on earth am I going to become a published writer? There is no designated path for a writer. There just isn’t…most of us have to find (or create) our own path, compensating our ideals and dreams and trying to break all the cliches that are attached to us…
Anyway. I’m babbling now. This whole entry does not make sense. But oh well. It’s supposed to be my random babble.
(Which is the same excuse I use over and over to justify my lack of organization. Yep.)