Fly Away...

It's the end of the semester now. You can tell because the library is filled with people. Seriously, it's impossible to find a computer nowadays. Which, when I think about it, is funny because half of the study body here probably didn't even know where the library was in August and now they're all crammed in here with their books (which were probably never opened before today) and notes (which are photocopies of someone else's) trying to make the best grade they can. I can't really blame them though. It just bothers me a little. If you haven't tried all semester, a last-minute cram session won't do you much good.

I suppose I'm a bit too hypocritical; too quick to judge. I just feel like some people at this school could really care less what their grades are. I know this because they barely show up for class and spend the rest of their time just "chillin" or smoking or drinking or doing some other idiotic task instead of trying to better themselves. I wish I could take some of these people, shake them, and ask, "Why are you here?" Like, Angelina Jolie in Wanted (EXCELLENT movie) style. The guy next to me, for example, has his notebook in his lap, a textbook on the desk, earphones in his ears, and the monitor is on Facebook. Facebook! Again, why are you here?

-sigh- What brave new world...

On a less bitchy note, I've been thinking about what I want to do next year. I'm not going to lie (to you, to myself) and say "be a better student" because I highly doubt that will happen. Highly. I could say I'll try. But knowing me and my dependable flakyness, I'll probably do really well the first week, get bored with it or interested in something else and slip back into my old habits. Just coasting along. Heh. Now that I think about it, that's kinda how I define myself when it comes to my relationship with others. I'm the flaky friend. The one you count on to be the one not to count on. The who's always forgetting stuff, waiting until the last minute, never coming through... That flaky bitch, Kaylyn. Yup, that's me.

Actually, when I started that paragraph, I did not know that would come out.

What I was supposed to say was this: I want to lose weight next year. Get healthy. I wanna eat right and exercise more. I've taken little steps already like taking the stairs (every time) instead of the elevator. Which was not so fun yesterday... I climbed like 4 flights. Then had to do it again about an hour later. 8 flights... But I felt good afterwards. Not physically, of course. Just proud. And I don't take the bus around campus. I walk everywhere. Every time. Even when it's raining. I mean, honestly, campus isn't that big. You can walk anywhere in about 10 minutes. At least I can.

But, yes, back on target: I want to lose weight. Not because I have a low self-esteem (at least not for that reason) or anything, but just to be healthy. My family's not exactly the Blanks so I have to combat genetics and my grandmothers' cooking... Hmmm... Pieee... -drool-

Ahem, yes, well... Weight. I want it gone. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning while brushing my teeth and saw something that shocked me: My collar bone. It made me smile. I have these weird little "things" I attribute to good health or good shape. Flat stomach, toned thighs... blah. And collar bones. Not scary "I can count my ribs"-skinny or anything, but just collar bones. I dunno. It's hard to explain. Especially in writing. Especially considering the fact, I type as I talk. Or, rather, type like I talk. Both, really.

So that's my New Year's resolution thus far. Lose weight. Cliche-much, I know. But I want to. I'll probably add more to it like giving up things I think are really bad to my health. Like sodas... Kudos to Rachel and Aaron! You're almost there! And, Rachel, I'm still buying you that Icee for New Year's. How's a 44-once sound? :P

I don't know how this'll turn out. Maybe I'll actually be the weight I claim to be on my driver's license...

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.