A new post is in order, I think. At least so as to push down that ghastly poem of mine.
Another month, gone. September seems to have crept in, catching most of us napping. Big plans I had. For August. And for life in general. I almost never make resolutions, but I had so many aims that were nearly those.
To start the laborious process of applying to graduate schools. To start off with my thesis project. To do some justice to the ones I have left incomplete. To try and do some of the extra work I had the gall to take on. To go cycling to Mahabs. To go out into the city, and not just to the railway station when I'm heading home. To blog at least once a week. To read more, to write more and to sleep a little less. To be happy. To be content. (Hah!) To dream more. Literally, at that. (I don't get dreams everyday, and I feel well rested and content with sleep only when I do.) To write poetry again. Preferably in class. To at least finish a novel when I am there. To learn to draw again. To eat healthy food. Even when I'm not at Subway. And eat a little less. To exercise everyday. To be more aware of what goes on around me. To go home more often. To do more when I am there. To live life in every breath. To complain a little less. To not worry as much. To be nicer to people. To sing, to dance, to run amok. To be carefree, even if only for a while.
Grand plans I seem to have. And ambitious dreams. But I end up doing not all that much.