Ratna writes

I generally like to write a quick post looking forward at each semester before it begins, but I've been enjoying this one a bit too much to have written yet. (Which is not to say I write now because I'm not enjoying it, but rather because I turned in four infuriatingly large assignments last week, and would not want less-than-optimal results returned to me next week to color the view of my classes presented in my reflection.) To say this semester has been a "blur" would be lazily to fall back on an overused phrase and an inaccurate representation. This semester has been a blast of color, a slew of sound, and a barrage of contentment. When asked why, I say because of a) classes and b) friendship, but I guess at the end of the year (or four) that's all that college is. So first, my classes. I am taking four wildly different courses this semester, that nevertheless seem seamlessly to dovetail together, as things had a habit of doing in high school. Macroeconomi...

What if I let my hair keep track of time for me instead of my phone, lopped it off before any extra trying experience and let it track my strengthening through its growth. Maybe the most illogically iridescent outlooks were made for the most amusingly impossible situations, so my blessing is its own confusion. When do people become the real kind of people who tuck themselves into taxicabs and work demurely at desks? Will my mind still swim in sine waves when I'm older and I map out an ecosystem or schedule appointments for something that matters? Will I still shiver at night and hold all tension in my toes, strands falling around shoulders whose prior priority was "independence"? And how long will my hair be by the time I can make my own decisions?