Parsons and Oja

I don't know what I'm trying to prove, but sitting here with a great big textbook opened at the proper page (page two of chapter one - it shows that I have read something), I rather think it's something to do with my (hopefully existent) innate hardworking-ness.
It'll be nice to know that I can get through classes without falling asleep, and even going so far as to want to say I understand at the end of them.

Which reminds me of school.
Not college, but secondary school, Main Convent school: for me it will always be The School.

Idyllic days, those - sleeping in class, skipping school, abandoning homework, last-minute rushes to meet deadlines -- oh! ever the same and never changing.

Which brings me to this - friends.

They say it's just a phase, this adolescent schooling age with it's girl and boy problems and pimples and friends, that there will be miles and miles more people yet to know and love and care for and laugh with.

They are right - they always are - and it makes me melancholy and a little sad.
Everyone's going here, there and everywhere; though you hear it all the time: 'Keep in touch!', one can but hope for the best.

So well, keep in touch!