I used to get up at 6:50 am to register for classes.
The room would be dark except for the blue glow of my roommates and my laptop screens.
Exactly at 7 am we would hit the "register" button, and the site would glitch from the mass of students all trying to register at the same time. We would try again and again, interludes of waiting and frantically clicking buttons and hoping there were still slots left in the classes we needed.
And then the button would finally work, and we would crawl back into bed.
This time, a senior, I forgot to register.
I forgot the franticness of registration day. The blue light waking you enough that you won't be able to go back to sleep but not enough to motivate you to get up for the day.
The one time I forgot, I pushed the button, and it went through immidietly. Like a a gift for the senior registering for the last time. Like the web site was sticking out its toungue at me.
I used to place every face to a class, to a project, to a dorm, to a specific reason their face was ingrained in my brain.
But now faces run together into a blurred crowd of people and classes and names and connections
that no longer seem important.
Is it because the culmination of four years of classes is taking its toll?
Or is the Senior me purposefully forgetting because I am slowly un-caring myself out of this school?
1. I have wept for my imaginary characters going through hard times.
2. I am sometimes jealous of people who can lead more normal lives and have a restful weekend without thinking about their novel waiting to be written, or have fun at a party without being inundated with a new story idea.
3. Sometimes I wish being a writer had an on and off switch so my brain wouldn't be constantly imagining made-up people's lives.
4. I judge books. Constantly. I judge their covers, their quality of writing, their character development, their plot, their readability, everything.
5. Sometimes I wonder if the smell of books is my addiction instead of coffee.
6. I silently correct people's grammar in my head. I never do it out-loud because that is obnoxious, but I can't help silently recognizing their mistake.
7. I have a love/hate relationship with tutoring writing. Some days I love it and want to help others feel the same wonder I experience when I write. Other days I want to lock the door and put a sign up saying "Go away, it's my turn to write!"
8. Except for clothes, the one inanimate object I covet the most is books. Even when I have a whole stack at home waiting to be read, I want more and more.
9. Sometimes I hate, loathe, detest, and dread writing.
10. But I have never doubted that writing is a huge way God wants me to share Himself and the Gospel.
