(no subject)

I want to know what seventeen feels like. Beyond even that, I want eighteeen, and a chance to discover the person I am when there's no one else to depend on. I want a chance to call myself older and wiser. In short, I think what I want is to be grown up. There's no hurrying that, really, but I want it all the same. Even while dreading the day when I'll move off to Chapel Hill or Virginia or Pennsylvania and have to watch my parents drive away, or at least to close the door to my dorm room and not come back.

Used to be, I wanted to meet me at eleven or twelve, to tell me that things wouldn't be so bad, that everything would get better eventually, and that I turned out to be a decent teenager. Now I want to meet me as a twenty-something, so that I could show myself the kind of person I end up being. I have an idea of who I want to be; this person is very much like me now, actually, just with more motivation and less procrastination.

Note I have no idea about who I want around me. I don't know many people who've kept up with high school friends, and I can't help thinking that it's perhaps because both parties changed enough in intervening years that the friendship wasn't worth it anymore, or didn't really exist at all. I've lost people since middle school because we've become too different; I can't imagine what the extra step to college will bring.

Enough naval-gazing for tonight. Back to themes of revenge and love in The Tempest, one of Shakespeare's less impressive plays, in my opinion, at least. As a novel, I think I would like it more, especially the complicated characters, but written as it is, I find it to be a bit tedious, especially since I can't get into the language. Damn language.

I would like to point out for anyone in Chapter 25 in Wheelock (hah) that I used the non-typical form of an indirect statement up there, the one to which Latin translates directly--"I find it to be a bit tedious."

Yes, I'm a dork. Shut up. I've had Latin on the brain for the past couple of days.