Eight (or seven, I'm not sure how you count exactly) posts ago I wrote about the start of the new semester, and now it's time to write about, well, the end of it. It's been quite a relaxed short semester, and in all honesty it's been quite enjoyable. What's not to like, really, about a class that's mostly about writing? Well, a lot, really, if you don't like writing. But I do. Thus, by extension, I liked and enjoyed the class very much. Nice way to close the first "long semester-long semester-short semester" cycle of this degree.
I don't have much to say, really. It's been a good seven weeks or so, in most aspects: university, life, me, friends, my creative exploits and my efforts to deprive myself of as much sleep as possible. I learned quite a bit and got some good feedback throughout the semester in regards to writing, and that's always a good thing, is it not? While I perhaps haven't written as much as I'd like recently (and thus haven't really been able to apply all the stuff that I learned), it's partly because of all the writing I've been doing in class and for the coursework and stuff. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you. Certainly not.
Not much more to say, really, without this post descending into a morass of all-too-personal thoughts and semi-melodrama. And even if that wasn't really a proble, I don't think I'd want to say and touch upon some of the things I want to, not even on my personal blog. Primarily because certain things are best kept to myself . . . and a few friends. Heh.
So yeah. One step closer to the end of the year, one step closer to the end of this degree, one step closer to the end of my life as a student, one step closer to being thrust forcibly—kicking and screaming—into the "real world."
But I'm not worried about that. Let's jump off those cliffs when we come to them, eh?
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