Its all been said before

If this blog proves anything to me, is that I am horribly absent minded and can't commit to anything. Well anything like this anyways. That and my internet is never constant.

Well I see the last time I really updated this thing was essentially before I started Amherst. Maybe for my next year, I can actually blog. See how I like it. I feel like I would, and no one really reads this anyways.

To contain a whole year. If Virginia Woolf teaches us anything, its that not even a day can fit inside a novel. How can I even begin to talk about the year? I honestly feel that nothing can be said. Nothing complete I mean. I did what I set out to do a year ago- try my best to live honestly in my reaching for a genuine and experienced life. I have met new people, some who have changed me, some who have broken my heart.. a beautiful bittersweetness that I savor. I won an important award in my school, (The MacArthur-Leithauser Travel Award) which gave me the opportunity to travel to a country of my choosing for self-directed work on my poetry. It was another expansive experience in my life. I feel that my poetry has been changing and improving and growing, more than ever. I was so scared a year ago that I would plateau and just stop growing. Its a silly fear, admittedly, but it was there.

I'm about ten days away from returning to potentially my last full year at Amherst if I don't extend. I don't think that particularly makes this year more intense, but many other factors make it a year to be excited and nervous about. I want to write a creative thesis, and hopefully if I work hard it can happen. Some people are graduating, (some even as soon as after this semester) who I am going to miss I know. And not in some passive way. I already have a close friend who I won't see. What will I do without her I wonder.

Besides actual specific reasons why this year is so exciting, I feel like I now know more than every before that every year, every moment...is the most exciting to be alive. So much is happening in the world, within ourselves...I think a lack of wonder of it all is only due to ignorance, probably due to the routine practice of "growing up". The Romantics must be turning over in their graves-Keats did not die young for this. To recover childhood wonder after the fall from innocence. To return to our beginnings, and know them for the first time. That's gotta be worth something.

Well we'll see how keeping this up works. I'll try as often as possible, once a week at least?