I hate the university life!

I've arrived at a phase where it's suddenly imperative to question things I do and think about where I'm headed. I have thoughts of quitting school.

I have my reasons. University life has taken a toll on my writing, and so I confronted this problem by giving the easiest solution, which is to stop going to school. So it's cowardice, you might think. Whatever. I'd rather be reading Hamlet right now and going on a voyage to Siberia, or to the mountains where bodies of water are vast and skies clear. What I need is adventure, and poetry, and soothing music. What I yearn for is a grand escape!

Business calculus is such a bore, and accounting--oh please, leave my life! I want to write and keep writing. I want to embrace language and have a majestic communion with words and sounds...to taste all of the world's flavors, to know the wonders and limits of my body and everything that forms it, to search within myself as if to dig to finally spot hidden treasure. I need something like that, more than all these rewards I get from school, more than all this information I have to learn today.

What a father said to a son: To thine own self be true. So why disobey? I hate rushing. I need a bit more time to grow, to read, to reconnect with my true person, to "redeem my passionate side" (what I used to say at 16), to have an encounter with the Divine. Not work. Not school. Just pure bliss...because I thirst for Shakespeare again, and can I just burn the thought of having to go to school, so that I could give myself time to read and do research? Annoying, crippling trimestral system! Bloody ambivalence!