Dear blog, my confidante of last resort. I am writing to you from melancholic enclosure of the Melbourne Uni Law building. It is strange to sit here. Familiar voices speaking familiar conversations drift around me. But when I turn there is a disconnect and all I see are strangers; the uni kids diligently at work on their assignments, ipods on, apple laptops busily a-typing (because you can always count on the lawyers to be the role model populist alternates), their whole world distilled down to assignments, deadlines and grades (and who's doing who).
Gosh... even the sounds of the laughter is the same. This place is removed from time and space. A sunlit realm where intentions are pure, causes are just, goodwill towards all mankind is overflowing, debates are passionate and full bodied (backed by weighty rhetoric), ideals indestructable, possibilities limitless, wallets thin, power zero. It seemed like an infinite yesterday since I was here, blissfully unaware of the world outside the institution. I often have pangs of longing, wishing I could walk back into those golden moments. But one can never imitate a uni student: one must either be one or a sad pretender and I will not and cannot do either. It would be a waking nightmare and a sleeping dream.
This must be the feeling of age.
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