Every customary holiday post needs a review of the trimester. However, the last three months of my life have been extremely strange, even more so than usual, and when I try to look back at them, there’s just this cold gust of wind that flows through me in a way that should hurt.. Instead I find its coolness is only refreshing.
I used to think many things. I was convinced of many things. I’ve seen these three months destroy so many of my convictions, and I’m too shaken up right now to form any new ones.
I used to have a room-mate who would travel to the ends of the World for me, and a relationship that gave me the sort of rare liberty that only security brings.. Now, I find myself with a crew full of human friends, with their own flaws and weaknesses and fears and songs. And, I love them all. This trimester has seen us Protesting and Partying from the first moment to the last. Protesting against all that is unfair, and celebrating everything in life that is still worth celebrating. [Literally so, as the first thing we all did together was protest the unfair conditions for women, followed by an evening at the new pub in town, and the last thing we did together was break a rule so that we could all drink together through the night].
I made some new friends too. And, began reading philosophy. Discovered some new places, revisited some old ones. Fell in love with Vivaldi’s Winter, and had the sort of Strawberry Fields that I should have been proud of, were I not only half there.. I’ve been half everywhere for a while now… Except for the night before the last. Then again, breaking the Rules always did help me feel alive faster than most other things could ever manage. And that’s always the kind of rebellion I enjoy the most; the kind that’s so fun, you want to yell out your adventures to the moon.
But, that was only the ending. For the rest of the time, I remember reading A Game of Thrones, and learning how to play the guitar, and attending a GBM drunk, but determined. I remember being part of a football team that was always top of the table, and a barbecue Christmas night. Orcs must die, and conversations that have been pending for years, and a life-altering moment that I have no recollection of whatsoever, with someone that I don’t know at all. I remember walking across miles and miles, alone in the rain, in a red coat. And, there were parties in rooms, on different terraces, in old and new places, with old and new faces. I attended wild quad parties, tried to launch a revolution, had my feet slip out under me only to fly into the air and have my head hit the ground so hard, I was sure I was lying in a pool of my own blood.
I did all the new things that have always been missing in my life; I missed a flight, broke up a fight involving a blind-side punch to the face and a broken nose, had time to chill at SF, won a football tournament (yay!), got over my longest relationship (finally) and started listening to the kind of music that my dog and I can trip out on together. (I think she likes Beethoven best.)
I went to college in October, certain to be miserable and coming up with all sorts of plans to keep my mind busy; Instead, for the next three months, I found myself in the middle of almost the most fun that I have ever had. I’d forgotten how terrifying and yummy freedom was. I’d forgotten how hard it was to feel alive entirely on your own, and how much more worth it. I’d forgotten how many hours there really were in a day, and how much of my brain, and how many corresponding cells, were caught up in solving stupid pointless problems rather than thinking about any sort of development or dealing with any real issues. Most importantly, these past three months reminded me what it could really be to be me.
And, I absolutely loved it.
These are the guys who made my trimester beautiful:
Plato, Socrates, Nietzsche, Vivaldi, Chopin, Beethoven, John Snow, the Targaryens, Walzer, Pink Floyd, Lounge Piranha, Puppies, sharp seniors, spirited juniors, dedicated professors and the kind of friends who you would fight all of hell to save.