I could hardly concentrate. All these statistical design of experiments have to battle it out with some formidable thoughts in my head at 5:30 in the morning. I'm still hung over, about art and books and films and people I adore--basically all the good stuff I have been preoccupying myself with lately when I am not obliged to face the reality of the degree program I chose. No, there's no tinge of regret in that. I may not be exemplary in chemical engineering. But I believe there is a reason why I am here and not anywhere else. Plus, being in touch with both the logical and the creative sides--I'd like to imagine that I am in touch with them, yes--makes me a better person.
Gratitude must be expressed to the cosmos for bringing me here to this point: for opening my eyes to see the beauty in this world and opening my mind to find beauty in the grotesque. Never had I felt so much zest to keep on living--to look forward to something in the future, knowing that there's still so much waiting to be seen and heard and perceived by all humanly faculties. If asked by the perennial question of what truly is the meaning of life, I'll go with John Updike's and Annie Dillard's take on it: to be a spectator of all of life's creation, to keep that sense of wonder at existence itself.
Now, I am done with the outburst. Excuse me as I go back to studying.