E tenebras, lux dormiens

First year of college life, 19 years old now and aging . . .

Part 1 of 2???

So the end of my freshman year at a college of which I had low opinion because of values instilled by my mother and my aunt, both Chinese. In retrospect, CSUH was not all that I had expected, which is both good and bad. CSUH had its good and bad things. No college is perfect . . . right?

Still, the experience I had at college reveals to me my naiveté about college in general. Having not visited any colleges thoroughly, probably due to my embarrassment to associate myself with being college students or seeing college students, which I think arose from embarrassment of joining groups since I was younger. Actually, I remembered thinking that, from TV I supposed, I thought that all college students were pretentious Ivy Leagues type, wearing uniforms and being mean to people with lower level of intelligence, or perhaps with no intelligence at all.

Looks as if I was wrong, but I cannot know because people who attend CSUH seems to be of lower caliber, not entirely focused on their education. In other words, some of them seem to be idiots, like high school except less so. I must attend a UC school of higher caliber. Maybe I will like the atmospher better. Then, if I get lower grade because people are more competitive, I can say that I love the school because I am challenged. CSUH is slightly challenging, made so probably by its close proximity to the Bay Area (being situated right in the middle of it) as opposed to faraway SJSU and the inconvenient, hard-to-get-to SFSU.

State Universities have reputation for being down-to earth, focused on practicality as opposed to living in the clouds of theories and endless philosophies. Good schools should be capable of challenging me, making me as equally likely to get B or C as the next person, but I am capable of getting A if I really try hard. This illustrates a point, am I trying hard? Do I get tired easily? Would going away from home be too much for me?

I have bad premonitions. I don't know how to take care of myself, or at least I don't think I do. Perhaps if I was kicked out of the house for a week, I would find a way to adapt.

I wish that this post would be in some way more profound, but there is a constraint in my throat and chest that I cannot get rid of. It hints at the desperation to express . . . but what? how? and in what manners?

I must visit the campuses nearby and visiting them, perhaps see their dorms, perhaps sleep overnight in them. I would really want to try to live for a term away from home.

Maybe I don't really want to stay away from home, maybe I have been tainted too much with the preconception I have of the school to which I am going. Tainted enough that I cannot see the good things there. After all, I've experience a modest influx of socialization, of being able to talk and listen to the most amazing things in the world, where ordinary is extraordinary to me, and extraordinary is downgraded because there are too much of it.

Oh, if I could be blessed not just with a gift of words but also with the gift of ideas and expression! Oh, God, let me bring love to others, and not be greedy with selfish needs and self-expression. I know you, the Religion, are the moral guidance of the world. For in the Absurdism, the existentialist believes that the world cannot be morality-bound because there is no God. Oh, oh, O! Endless to know that at the end of the tunnel is not a light but a reflection and a dead end. How cruel to know that the light we see at the end of that tunnel is the light we project upon it, the many lights of many of us to give us hope, but upon the end, facing the realization of a rising piles of thankless dead.