Scattered Thoughts.

Studying in a sunny day while listening to Piazzolla's tango feels good. It's like my own petty life having a background music. I couldn't help but put down my pen, then just started thinking. Somehow my mind wondered to college. Should I bring my CD player to college? Will my roommate mind? Will my roommate have the same taste as I do? Maybe we would go to concerts together in the future?

I don't know.

But this is all I care about. Do I care about studying? Not really. That's just something...what was the word? Perfunctory. I'm doing just enough to not drop my grades and such.

And then comes the realization: WOW, I'm seventeen--already.

I can't hold it back. I kind of want to savor my teenage-hood for awhile. But yeah, it's not going to happen. Soon I'll be out of college, I'll be aging and aging. Is the world going to be as bright as the one outside my window right now when I'm seventy? And can I still see the breeze, visible by the dancing tree branches when I become old and feeble?

Piazzolla's music is still playing. I feel like I'm in one of Miyazaki's movies. And that feels great.