Fall Classes Begin

Classes started. Blah. I'll never have time to complete personal goals anymore, just a swamp of professor's expectations that don't exactly accomplish what you really want to in life. Of course without the regularity and certain mental stimulation along with the pretty degree the work eventually will earn you, life would begin to suck anyway. I have a love hate relationship with school. I'm just depressed that reading books for pleasure and walking outside in the sun have been ousted to a new life of reading assigned texts and barely seeing the light of day inside yucky buildings. Perhaps this is an overflow of my hatred for any other season than summer too. Days are starting to get shorter. The weather isn't as hot. Is my dislike of winter a socially instituted evolutionary response to the fact that school (which equals more work) is in this season as well? Do I have an aversion to 'unlaziness' that I substantiate with a dread of the cold and snow and dark gloomy days? But anyway, back to what I was saying before, my goals are always changing whether it be from what I'm experiencing at the time, new revelations, forgotten ambitions, and who know why else. Maybe if I didn't have a scheduled life, be it school or work, I'd never accomplish those goals anyway. I think the idea that I have the time to take on new passions, start, complete, and thrive at any fancy of mine is a comforting thought even if practically I could never do it. Like writing a book. I really want to write a book, and I've tried before but it always gets pushed to the backburner, job, classes, or nothing but a boring rainy day. I am a starter, and a bad finisher. When was the last time I actually satisfactorily completed something unless it was being dictated by someone else? Freedom is a beautiful thought, but not so practical.