Preparation.

original

The more I think about actually moving in and starting school, the more I feel like dragging my face across asphalt. Don't get me wrong. I want to better my Arabic, trace my Hebrew vowels, delve into Egyptian funerary typology, and diagram chelation reactions. I want to meet my students, design my lab lectures, excel at designing Independent Study physics courses, and really dig into my controversial honors thesis. I just don't want to do all of that at once. I don't want to kill myself worrying about exams, work schedules, deadlines, waking up on time, maintaining my GPA, poring over the MSAR, strengthening my med school resume, shadowing physicians, involving myself in service leadership, fitting into a new ward, applying for my second round of study abroad scholarships, researching summer programs, and never feeling like there are enough hours in the day. I've been in college long enough to know how it feels, and that's what I'm dreading. The Testing Center. Long nights at the library. Never feeling fully prepared. And the walls, gosh dang it, the walls! If summer is rainbow sherbet and soft white sheets, school is grey flannel and that infernal speckled ceiling tile. Mouse-chewed, industrial post-consumer ceiling waste and dull, grey, overstarched, suffocating flannel.

In other news, I met my roommate and am in the process of designing a new aesthetic for my side of the room. My chosen colors are blue and white, and I think I'll do a deep denim comforter topped with light blue and white pinstriped throw pillows. Blue NBA basketball sheets will give my bed a kitschy sort of charm, and my purple Arrested Development poster will tie in with the purple buttons that accent my pillows. I'll hang three vintage Vogue covers and a promo for the Dharma Initiative, and I think that should do it.