Three weeks has passed, six more days to go. There is not a hint of implication of longing to leave this place in the this entry's first sentence, however the concept of time and its sproadic tendencies to change its velocity at different intervals of mood or experiences never fail to surprise me. It is quite humorous yet bemusing at the same time. The three past weeks have swished by me as if nothing significant has happened during that period, however as ironic as it sounds, all of the significant and most important events have pompously taken their places in my life, genuinely engraved into my memory, despite its possiblity of failing to engender permanence.

Unrestrained poetic prattling aside, I want to emphasize the impact the last three weeks has had on my character. Personalities take a while to, if not never, to be altered, however character constantly takes new shapes over time, analogous to the plasticity exhibited by the brain over the years. The both are correlated, now that I come to think of it. I have not only become mature, but also caring and have come across a reality check of the real college life. My inexorable volition to experience life outside of the high school confinements did not fade to any extent, but the magnitude of that desire has only increased. I am happy. I want more, and by spending quite some time away from home in the dormitories of college, my viewpoint has been shaped differently, more to my favor than a disadvantage.

Sustaining a heterosexual relationship during high school years should not come to one as an effort-consuming task, and to me, luckily that has not happened yet. Peers assure plight when it comes to maintenance of the sort of matter, however. I find that quite funny, but I should be grateful that there is someone in the world that clicks with me like cream cheese does with toasted blueberry bagle, and furthermore, that I am with that person, blithely enjoying life and everything it has to offer to the individual and the fledgling couples. At sixteen going on seventeen, however, I must not narrow down my extracurricular scope entirely to this relationship. I must say, though, that I am truly grateful.

Jealousy and envy are the two things that I want completely devoid of in my system, but it never works out too well. Peer pressure aside, the accomplishments of many around me sometimes surpass the greatest efforts of mine, and this frequently slightly adds to the stress. I need a boost in confidence, and I need it pretty quickly, as the most crucial point in my student career is imminent. I am struggling more than ever and I must say, it is not a good feeling. I must learn to move on, to live my life as I, and I only, want it to be.

I cannot reiterate enough, however, that I am one of the luckiest people in the world - I have experienced virtually everything all before my seventeenth birthday. I am grateful. Thank you all.

Poetic people fill me with emulating fascination ineffable under the radiant nature of the Earth-frolicking sun, as they seem to spawn strings of phrases and sentences into magically coalescing paragraphs that with no particular effort, are coherent. I wish to become a poetic, liguistics-oriented scientist, but am fully and plaintively aware that the aforementioned clause is in fact, an oxymoron, at least in terms of the Korean educational scope (in Korea, high school students are distinguished from the start of their upperclassman years as either a humanities-majoring student or a sciences/math-majoring counterpart). However, as a future-hopeful neuroscientist who is also fervent about writing and reading poetic articles (more recently than ever before), I beg to differ the stone-set postulate already established covertly by unfamiliar ancestors residing on the rocky Korean peninsula.

Summer has finally seeped in through my system, permeating my mind and brain and ringing the bell of genuine, inexorable excitement. I am happy. Teaching myself physics and prepping for the SAT exams are two of the innumerable tasks that must be carried out by fatigue characterized by a tinge of passion. Physics is okay, SATs are okay, high school is okay, everything else, other than neuroscience, the library, old romantic comedies, daydreaming, and occasional poetic spurts of speedwriting (by which this entry is engendered), is again, condoned by my extremely rare passionate largess. Early graduation from high school sounds scrumptiously appealing, if only possible as dicated by my rather ambivalent guidence counselor and partly guaranteed admission into a decent science intitute, be it in Korea, the United States, or who knows where in the globe. This summer vacation is a pivotal time period in which I must not only push myself, but discover what I delectably desire in order to achieve my far-fetched dream. Relatively speaking, however, my dream of pursuing a career as a neuroscientist, most preferably, a successful and happy one portrayed with unlimited prowess and proficiency, is not that far-fetched when lined up with all of my peers' life-long goals (if existant, for many, if not most, of my friends are cavorting in a dearth of high, intimidating expectations for themselves).

I am off to the States tomorrow, and have not yet inaugurated the commencement of delightful packing. Clemency of the god of the brisk, lively world with brisk, lively denizens is called upon.