So May is just about over, and in a couple of weeks I'll be out of my summer shorts and into my peach twill pants. I will also be swapping the teeny clutches for bags with mandatory dimensions of at least 11x14in, and my unfinished Neil Gaiman novels for the works of Robbins and Katzung.
My summer can be divided into roughly three parts.
The first one consisted of an ordeal which I voluntarily underwent and came out of a changed person, I believe. I also gained an incredible family.
The second was that 18-day vacation to Singapore, the country my close friends jokingly refer to as my "Tagaytay". The best experience this time was being 165 meters above sea level, on the world's tallest Ferris wheel, marveling at the beauty of a country that has already won me over too many times to count.
The third, I call pre-June anxiety-induced toxicity. There are a million things to do, and barely enough time to do them all. But I'm doing all of them with a smile on my face and the knowledge of their worth.
Still, I can't wait to put on that ill-fitting white uniform, pin the nameplate on my blouse, and walk back into the college that I've sorely missed since March.