old map
'ello. I am a college student. I may break some rules of grammar and use unnecessarily descriptive words. Sue me.
I miss writing for myself. I journal, yes, but that is to keep myself sane; I need to write a bit just to see words like lackadaisical and blackberries and fog and imperious in ink. I love me some words.
I'm not an English major though. We've already got one of those in our family, and I am currently following the path of historian instead.
I'm attending a small, liberal-arts college which will go unnamed for the time being. I like to keep an aura of mystery about me (joking: if you ever meet me, I am the most un-mysterious person ever and will probably blurt out something that should have been kept inconspicuous).
old map:
At my college, there is a place we call old map. It is the oldest part of one of the dorms and it has an elegant, poised grandeur about it that remains undisturbed by students sprawled on high-backed chairs or patterned carpets with their laptops, pens, indecipherable notes, and psychology textbooks. The room is pristine even in the face of couples squashed into the ancient couches, apparently ignorant of the double major trying to study for four exams next to them.
*cough*
Anyway, old map is the best at night, in my humble freshman opinion. Heavy, flowery curtains frame tall windows looking out onto a patio and quad cloaked in darkness (and, given the college, probably some rain for good measure). The fire might be going and it's almost warm enough to shed my wool socks.
It is a little shadowy in old map, but antique lamps and chandeliers try their best to give light to straining eyes.
Sometimes, a skilled (or otherwise) student sits at the grand piano and hammers out La La Land or Debussy. This evening, someone was playing Ronda Alla Turca, by Mozart. This piece is featured in the 1995 Pride and Prejudice as background music to a rather chaotic scene (oh, Lydia) and washed me in much needed homesickness; the nice kind of homesickness that makes you feel at home away from home. My family watches this superior adaptation (Kiera Knightley who?) so often that we can quote whole scenes at each other.
I feel Darcy glaring at me imperiously from the corner even now.
Ah, imperious. There we go.
I miss writing for myself. I journal, yes, but that is to keep myself sane; I need to write a bit just to see words like lackadaisical and blackberries and fog and imperious in ink. I love me some words.
I'm not an English major though. We've already got one of those in our family, and I am currently following the path of historian instead.
I'm attending a small, liberal-arts college which will go unnamed for the time being. I like to keep an aura of mystery about me (joking: if you ever meet me, I am the most un-mysterious person ever and will probably blurt out something that should have been kept inconspicuous).
old map:
At my college, there is a place we call old map. It is the oldest part of one of the dorms and it has an elegant, poised grandeur about it that remains undisturbed by students sprawled on high-backed chairs or patterned carpets with their laptops, pens, indecipherable notes, and psychology textbooks. The room is pristine even in the face of couples squashed into the ancient couches, apparently ignorant of the double major trying to study for four exams next to them.
*cough*
Anyway, old map is the best at night, in my humble freshman opinion. Heavy, flowery curtains frame tall windows looking out onto a patio and quad cloaked in darkness (and, given the college, probably some rain for good measure). The fire might be going and it's almost warm enough to shed my wool socks.
It is a little shadowy in old map, but antique lamps and chandeliers try their best to give light to straining eyes.
Sometimes, a skilled (or otherwise) student sits at the grand piano and hammers out La La Land or Debussy. This evening, someone was playing Ronda Alla Turca, by Mozart. This piece is featured in the 1995 Pride and Prejudice as background music to a rather chaotic scene (oh, Lydia) and washed me in much needed homesickness; the nice kind of homesickness that makes you feel at home away from home. My family watches this superior adaptation (Kiera Knightley who?) so often that we can quote whole scenes at each other.
I feel Darcy glaring at me imperiously from the corner even now.
Ah, imperious. There we go.
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