Well, that's it!
All papers turned in, all tests taken, all school done. Four years (plus a summer or two...or three), and I'm wrapped at University of Toronto (graduation pending). I feel free. I'm reading books for pleasure now, instead of duty. I'm writing because I want to, not because I have to. I'm like a young bird, high in the air, with the massive expanse of earth beneath, and I've got two conflicting and simultaneous reactions: I rejoice in the beauty of the landscape, and I tremble in fear at the fall.
It's funny. I was talking to a friend last week, in the class before my first final, and I said that I was ready now for an education. As much as I thought otherwise before University began, I wasn't actually ready to learn. I was ready to learn how to learn, and that's what I (hope I) did. Now that I know how to learn, I'm out into the world with...not a whole lot. That's the paradox of higher education. The best teacher is experience, and the primary lessons you learn at university are not found in the classes themselves, but in the spaces between. So here I am, exiting a place of higher education ready to be educated.
Trouble is, experience isn't nearly as forgiving as University professors.
Latest Music On iTunes