I want to go stargazing sometime in my life just to have the beauty of the universe swallow me whole.
It sure would be nice to explore the stars. I wouldn't mind soaring around the galaxy a little to see the brilliant star constellations and how vast everything is. It would take me eternity, but that probably wouldn't matter if I ever had a chance. I would probably laugh in that silence, revel in some old song playing in my head, and just look at everything in awe.
Would everything be as poetic as I imagine it to be?
I dream about roaming the world more and more. I've finally arrived back to the place where I call home, but I know it would only be a matter of time before I crave for another exciting, fascinating experience.
Still, now that I look at it, why do I aspire to travel so much? It's not the cheapest hobby to have, not to mention that planning and actually undertaking the entire journey itself is tiring. The standard answer isn't that complicated - I could say the usual things like: "Oh, it's just nice to see new cultures. You meet new people and learn more history - how great can that be?"
Well, of course, there definitely is truth in that question. I love new places - Europe in particular. There's a deep attraction to that region, especially England - and I'm not entirely sure why. Next in line of countries to visit would be Austria, Hungary, Russia - and perhaps even the Nordic nations. Heck, I'm even thinking about a trip to Antarctica just because NZ is so near to it. Egypt, Israel...what about the coldest regions in Canada? It would be nice to visit these countries, definitely.
But I guess the truest answer is this -
...That freedom always will be my call.
...
And that the skies I shall explore when I exist no more.
...
University life is going to be busy, I can tell. After a long ten hour flight plus a couple of other transits, I finally landed at Dunedin. It took me a shitload of effort to get to my dorm on its own, seeing as there were no taxis available - all had been fully booked by returning students. I was tempted to scream bloody murder all around. Nevermind, I arrived safely without killing anyone.
Everyone at this prestigious dorm seems to be friendly, thank god. Today's welcoming speech had been quite clear and concise - St Margaret's was one of the best, and all of us were definitely going to be the best of the best. I hope to live up to that standard, really. Already there would be formal Sunday dinners where men dress up in ties and ladies get their dresses out. On the list would also be Academic Breakfasts where lecturers, VCs and students mingle. This Wednesday's community service is apparently compulsory - somehow I'm not complaining, which is rare - add to the fact that I haven't gotten my text books yet, nor do I have any idea where next week's lectures are going to be at.
My memory of this place is once again refreshed. Yep, awesome place. Well-kept grass lawns, flowers (holy shit they have sprinklers for this), carpeted floors, chandeliers from the ceiling in the dining room, fresh flowers around the hallway, using the proper cutlery while eating, long dining tables, saying grace, having a whole load of activities...
...
I'm not sure what made me want to stay at this residential college at the young age of nine. At nine, I may have been young and impressionable - but certainly not stupid. Yet at that age I had made up my mind that this was what I would work for. Nine years later, I achieved what I wanted. That's great, but what will I make out of this year? Will I use this chance appropriately, or would I sacrifice it?
That, in all honesty, isn't even a valid question.
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