School is back in session, and with that comes my access to computers that work with WordPress. The goal is that this will mean I can return to my daily writing sessions. What’s surprising is that, though writing still feels natural, I do see myself as a bit rusty. I’ve always been able to pick things up and drop them relatively quickly, but I guess I’ve gotten to the point that I expect enough from my writing that anything less is a disappointment. This semester, I’ve decided to keep my dual-music classes alive, with a second orchestral class in place of the guitar class from last semester. I played cello in a group setting for the first time yesterday, and it went fairly well. The first piece we played had a simple melody in the familiar G major. The second, however, was more complex and was written in the much more obscure E major. My English class, as well, has changed, but remained similar. I still have an emphasis on writing, but this semester, the styles will shift to much more analytical (if we ever get there: today offered a creative prompt, whose response I will share at the end of the post). All in all, the semester should add up to be a great way to finish my time in high school.
With every end comes a new beginning, and my next beginning is still up in the air, though things are looking to grow more specific soon. Both Milligan College and St. Louis University have accepted my applications and offered me scholarships, and (as long as certain requirements are met when I visit) Milligan is looking like my top (and less expensive) choice. I’m certainly excited to check out the campuses.
Portray July 16th, a forlorn and forgotten day of summer.
Hopping up on my bike, I leave another day at the pool in my past. My chlorine-dried skin tightens on my face as the stiff heat pushes against it, reinforcing the length of the season. School is a distant memory on the horizon behind me and I long for the excitement of a new year: the buzz of countless tongues all moving in unison; the thick crowds shoving past each other in the halls. As I approach home, the smokey scent of barbecue hits me as my tongue twitches at recognition of the over-rated, over-served meal that waits me.
Until the next (hopefully more coherent) time!