I know, right? Time flies.
Actually, the original saying is "fugit inreparabile tempus," which translates* to something like "irreparable time flees."
And this could just be me, but that extra word makes a huge difference. Because all of a sudden time is like one of those fish in that Wii Play fishing game—once it passes by, it's never going to swim back to give you a second chance (at least in my experience). You just have to keep fishing and fishing and hoping those awful brown -50 point fish don't bump into you as you aim for the next sparkly bonus rainbow fish heading your way.
|Me fishing for time (or lake trout). The scribbles are meant to be grass, not graphs of my oscillating grades slash sleep levels.|
Okay, maybe that was a poor analogy. In my defense, with school ending and all, I've been tying up a lot of ends in a lot of classes, and since I do not particularly excel in shoe-tying (or life-tying), I've been a little frazzled.
Of course school isn't ending ending in three days. There's still reading period and finals and the process of stowing my worldly possessions back aboard the Red Pearl. But all that is most certainly different from squinting at blackboards and fretting over problem sets and sprinting to class as the tower chimes whatever-o-clock. So classes being almost over is a big deal.
Hm... what else...
Well, lately I've been spending a lot of time suffering from a) allergies, because apparently Baltimore is the stamen of America (at least according to my choral director. But really, any place with the concept of spring is bad) and b) a mountain-sized load of end-of-term work, which turns out to be quite a heavy load. I wonder how turtles do it.
I've also been spending a lot of time thinking about how nearly one-fourth of my irreparable college experience has already fled. However, since there is still a little bit of that one-fourth to go, I'll save all that for the next post.
So until then, keep fishing. See you in a couple weeks.
*Alas, I am unable to translate the rest of Vergil's Georgics. My high school Latin teacher would not be happy.