Feeling nostalgic...I realize that I have only ONE semester to go before I graduate! I should be glad (and I am to an extent) but mostly I am not. First of all, I am apprehensive about what is after...a job/grad school etc, and second, I really want to take more classes in English and the Arts.

In the spirit of welcoming the New Year and looking back on the past, I decided to complie a list of a few things I am grateful for and I am going to miss.

*W-I will miss it!! Its been such a blessing for me!
*The English Department!!! The classes, the Profs, the staff and students ALL ROCK!!!
The Hamlet class, Victorian Novels, Classical Mythology, Poetry, Profs C, S!
*Good friends: who've been there for me when I needed them, who are supportive and great to hang out with.
*Liberal Arts education: I am glad I've had a chance to get an all rounded education :)
*The Art department: for being so supportive! Specially Prof. D!
*The LTC and the tutors there.
*The Lake: It is sooooo beautiful all year round!!
*Gothic campus: As much as it creeps me out at times, it is fodder for the Imagination!
*Mandatory PE credit-If this wasn't the case, I would not have taken Swimming or fencing which I have learnt to simply LOVE!!!
*CWS: both years they've been FAB!! I am really grateful to the funding they've given me so I was able to have worthwhile internship experiences.
*The ISA program: I would not have gone abroad without them! And the committee.
*Midnight Breakfast: reminded me of the stuff only found in Enid Blyton's school stories (esp. Mallory Towers!!!)

and much more..

Another favorite of mine:

Lines Composed In A Wood On A Windy Day
-by Anne Bronte

My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring
And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze;
For above and around me the wild wind is roaring,
Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.

The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing,
The bare trees are tossing their branches on high;
The dead leaves beneath them are merrily dancing,
The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky

I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing
The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray;
I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing,
And hear the wild roar of their thunder to-day!

Something is not right...
Even though I don't know what it is, a part of me does not want to know either. After all, I could use any ounce of imagination I could get. Its like having friends...you want to have friends really badly and all...but when you are with them, you want to be alone with your thoughts. I don't know if these two things can ever go together. Like now I am at home and with family..and yet a part of me wants to be alone. When I am alone, I don't like it too much either. All I want to do is be EVERYTHING to ONE other thing..but then again...I don't know if this is the solution. Anne Bronte's poem "The Captive Dove" a favorite of mine (what with writing 2 papers and spending countless hours thinking about it, I ought to be an expert on it I reckon :P). But the gist of the poem is...Anne finds herself trapped and tries to find freedom in art. However, art leaves her "pining, neglected and alone". I think then that we are forever trapped...by ourselves.

The Captive Dove
~Anne Bronte

Poor restless dove, I pity thee;
And when I hear thy plaintive moan,
I mourn for thy captivity,
And in thy woes forget mine own.


To see thee stand prepared to fly,
And flap those useless wings of thine,
And gaze into the distant sky,
Would melt a harder heart than mine.


In vain, in vain! Thou canst not rise:
Thy prison roof confines thee there;
Its slender wires delude thine eyes,
And quench thy longings with despair.


Oh, thou wert made to wander free
In sunny mead and shady grove,
And far beyond the rolling sea,
In distant climes, at will to rove!


Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate
Thy little drooping heart to cheer,
And share with thee thy captive state,
Thou couldst be happy even there.


Yes, even there, if, listening by,
One faithful dear companion stood,
While gazing on her full bright eye,
Thou mightst forget thy native wood


But thou, poor solitary dove,
Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan;
The heart that Nature formed to love
Must pine, neglected, and alone.