reflections on summer blogs

Summer. Ah, summer. I hate reading my own writing. I'm comfortable with that, but in a case like this, it makes me wanna edit. And I don't have time to edit. Okaaay, looking over the blogs (I hate the word). Yep, they're pretty much as I remember. I like the writing, but it's more than a little pretentious. Showing off for my new classmates, I guess. Prospective friends, intellectual adversaries. I still feel the same way, and I'd probably put the same amount of effort into them, but the immediacy is gone. That probably makes me more honest, in these slapdash affairs, if nothing else. Also I observe a great deal of dissatisfaction-- it rises like a stink off of the oily puddles of pretention. This is doubtless not a reflection on the classes, with which I was slightly dissapointed, but moreover a dissatisfaction with the living situation. I couldn't have asked for a better roomate than Houng, but the fact that I had a roommate-- and lived in a linoleum and concrete shoebox-- was frustratingly regressive. Anyhow, enough on this topic. It's boring, in my case, anyway. I agree with my then-self now, which is good. Reassuring.

coming up next!
success story
semester reflection

...stay tuned.