an ending of a kind

There was a bearded man smoking a cigar in the Pit today. He paced in sweeping circles, jingling a jar of coins and holding a sign that read, "Will Work for Caviar." I just don't even know...

Approaching the end of a semester fills me with a shimmering sense of accomplishment; I was thinking about this while looking at the circle of smokers around the flag pole in the quad. Even if my exams are less than perfect, or there are still loose ends to be tied (such as, where am I going to live next year?), I always end a semester with this drumming feeling of aging, growing older, moving on. It would cheapen it to call it strange; it's more chilling than anything.

This was an outrageously good semester overall; the happiest of my college career. I am going to miss it: these four classes, being able to read poetry as an assignment, re-reading novels I read in high school, having free time to just read, finishing articles at the DTH, becoming decently adept at copy editing, getting a story published, having class with Angela every day, Monday Snax every week with Catherine and Emily... I will miss all of these things very much. I am trying to keep myself from a dark and growing dread of next semester, but it seems a futile battle. Next semester is going to be rough for a number of reasons.

"Majesty, Snowbird," is a lovely, triumphant song.

One of the many reasons I like finals week is that I always make time to read for pleasure. This semester's finalists for Books of the End: The Duel, a novella by my forever-beloved Anton Chekhov; Seize the Day, by Saul Bellow, whom I read for the first time in Tokyo this summer; and Pnin, by Vladimir Nabokov, which I chose because it wasn't as long as Lolita. (But I will get to her sometime.)

If you know of a decently priced house around this campus that can house 3+ senior women, let me know. I've been having nightmares about what might happen if we don't find one soon (e.g., sleeping in the pantry room where Cider's gargantuan bag of dog food lives).

Going home Tuesday!

(And the earth is warmer when you laugh.)