Seriously all I can think about as I start this post is an over used phrase by Charles Dickens in one of my favourite novels of all time: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” But in all truth, I cannot decide whether I am surviving the time until this semester is over or absolutely living the dream. I would definately chose the latter if I had no homework, readings or papers to write.
Every morning before the sun rises, I am either in a class room with some of the most intelligent eleventh graders I have ever met and discussing Macbeth, or doing laps in the pool with some girls from my cross country team.
I spend my days in class studying French, Chaucer, American Literature, and Shakespere. If I am not doing that, I am at my new job at Alternative’s Journal and I feel speechlessly blessed to be there. I am on the lowest rung of the publishing world as the intern, but I still work in a bright office with a city view and the essential Mac computer and have meetings with environment-loving academics. This experiance is one of the most exciting and trying moments I have ever experianced because the bar of expectation is higher than it has ever been for me.
I am pouring my heart and soul into things that I love, but my #firstworldproblem complaint is that there are not enough hours in the day to fully immerse myself in what I do. I feel as if I am scratching the surface as I listen to a professor talk to me in Middle English or get 100 bits of essential hints about the writing world at work.
So yes, I am working 15 hours days but I am loving every moment of it. Even though it feels like I am never going to survive this semester, I am forgetting there are only 24 hours in a day and sprinting full force through my days and trying to snatch up every amazing moment before it is gone.
