There is something faintly unreal about sitting in a class of 140 some people, feeling my fingers scramble on paper to take notes about utopian and democratic ideals; something a touch too intellectual to be tangible. I feel as though I've lost myself a little too deeply in a book about a college girl, and the reflection of a serious dark-eyed student before me can't possibly be true. My heart still whispers childish endearments toward life.

Being in college does seem to put all my longings closer to achievement, though. If I really am staring at the plush linings of the honors lecture hall, then London seems so much closer. I'm not hurrying through tiled halls any longer; instead, I stroll the breezy campus, still alight with summer breezes.

My Internet is currently down at home, so I'll exercise the priviledge (I'm aware that I cannot spell, do excuse) of writing and use this spot to thank sea for her sweet note she sent me-- it was a great help in calming me down. :) The same goes to Karilyn, who is a darling. Thank you both! :)

(If you are v. sensibly wondering why I cannot get into my e-mail here, it is because I am at my mother's office, and she has forbidden use of my e-mail on her computer. I don't know why either.)

My nerves are a bit strained at the moment. Please forgive me-- I'm attending college for the first time tomorrow. I have one solace at least-- I saw Possession this afternoon. Beautiful, beautiful film. . . romance, passion, mystery, British humor, literary theory, a shirtless Jeremy Northam. . . what else could I ask for?

On Tuesday, I will not comb my hair back in a tight braid and wind in in a bun; I will spend anxious minutes ensuring that it hangs just right, gentle enough to sway from side to side and still be practical. I will take out cosmetics still fresh from disuse, and softly brush a line of rich brown where dusky eyelashes begin. My clothes will be neatly laid out on the bed, some sophisticated college outfit-- bootcut jeans and a red V-neck to be worn with my brand new shoes and thin black dress socks. I will fasten the gold-rimmed watch against my slender wrist, and twist the sapphire ring nervously onto my finger. My bag is heavy, filled with Readings of the Constitution and Homer (along with freshly sharpened pencils, as if I were still in elementary school). My laptop comes in a briskly business-like case (will I replace the desktop picture of Ewan McGregor before turning it on in American History?) and a pair of headphones neatly wound in a little bag. My purse will hold a book and lunch (how will I carry it all?)

I'm leaning over a bridge, my finger lazily tracing the path of lilies on the glossy surface of unbroken water. I could fall, or turn, frightened, running back to the source of the path.

My litany as I walk as one in a dream up to the steps of my first class begins to play now.

"Don't look back."