Today was the first day of my second Typography class of the week. Went to the first one yesterday, but learned the same evening that I was being kicked out of it since there had been a glich with the system and the student who's seat I had grabbed was dropped out of that class mistakenly. Lucky me is back in the same night class I had so elegantly dodged. Oh well. The evening class dude seems cool and dedicated and I feel I wouldn't mind not reaching home until after 10 O'clock every Thursday if my sixth sense is sensing it right.
While going over typography nomenclature in class, we hit river, orphan and widow. Immediately I went from partly paying attention and partly dozing off to completely recalling my high school years when I wasted most of my time trying to avoid these exact things while trying to write scholarly essays and satires that went above and beyond the expectations of Mr. Kirk and Ms. Schernekau.
While going over typography nomenclature in class, we hit river, orphan and widow. Immediately I went from partly paying attention and partly dozing off to completely recalling my high school years when I wasted most of my time trying to avoid these exact things while trying to write scholarly essays and satires that went above and beyond the expectations of Mr. Kirk and Ms. Schernekau.
It makes me happy.
And it makes me sad.
Then I come back to reality and accept the fact.
Happy because I've always had this in me. Naturally.
Sad because I didn't know what it meant. 'cause no one could point me towards the direction in my head.
And then I accept it, because I'm here now. And it's not too late. Not too late to fret at all.
:)
arre bhaiya all iz well
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