Greetings from scenic,

Category: Diary
Tags: Sense School


February 15, 2017

I went snowboarding last weekend with a school group of 40 people or something; I rarely saw any of them because I just boarded up higher. Of course, "higher" on north carolina mountains is not much higher than normal. I at least got to work on the terrain park; I've never done that before and I fell over a lot but it was worthwhile. It felt a lot like learning to board again because the park has such a different feeling than the slope around it.

It's important to remember this: never give up! Being up there for however many hours was only redolent of being on Mount Hood. Oh, what a place!

I began studying japanese the last semester of my senior year of high school; I'm a sophomore at university now. Honestly, it feels like a lot of time has passed, it feels as close as this morning. That's two years ago, that's a few hours ago.

How much have I changed? I changed? No. Yes. Let me speak more concretely.

My habit started slow, slowly: one row of hiragana every ~three days. But I stuck with even when I felt I'd still accomplished nothing. Repetitons between runs of Burnout Paradise, repetitons in the shower every morning before school when I'd get up early and watch an episode of Magica and only one so I never spoiled that feeling. Repetitions in my calculus notebook. It dominated my day, and I welcomed it, the welcome work-break. Because it was a lot of work to memorize these runes, it was a lot of fun to memorize these runes.

After twelve days I had finished all twelve episodes of Madoka and one more afternoon would pin me to the floor crying and listening to Selig sind, die da Leid tragen and smiling, smiling like I was being drowned in the sweetest humanity I'd ever known.

After I recovered it felt like almost every day I'd come home and immediately fall asleep, then stir and gather something for supper and write any flavor-of-the-week program in C and crank out whatever little homework I had until I showered and watched an episode of any of the shows that slipped across the Pacific and landed, stateside, into my white room above the garage where I would watch out the window the potent and full surise that would surely break and spill like an egg yolk gold flooding the Randolph countryside. Then Jelli and I would eat at a Bojangles or somewhere and drive to school where we both slacked off all day.

What's beautiful about that time from when you're born to when you have expectation weighing you down is the absence of any remarkable expectation playing against you. High school was piss-easy and left me with arm-fulls of time to dig up lots of things that made me feel good. Being outside, reading, programming, studying pointless things. I wish everyone were able to experience this feeling; it's nothing unique to high-school, for sure. The time before my senior year I spent programming and sleeping all day.

If you're a programmer and you're not able to explain why then I'd encourage you to stop. You'll need a keen sense before your writing is makes you satisfied. That keen sense is very important and easily detectable but the typical person lacks it. What is that keen sense, but a keen sense of sense!

Anyway I'm going to brew a few cups of /tea/ and fill out my vocabulary some more~

Those who tell the truth shall die, those who tell the truth shall live forever.

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