The first thing that comes to mind as I sit here is an immense feeling of relief. I have just finished the rough draft of my Rhetoric paper. It's due tomorrow and I wasn't sure I could pull it together. It's not up to the standard of writing I like, but that's why it's a rough draft. I find myself dwelling a lot on on my life since I got here. I know that sounds a little weird, but it's actually a good thing. The first night I was here, I was sitting back listening to my music and reading when I thought about home and everything that had gone on there. I remembered everything from my close friends my senior year of high school to my friends from way back in my elementary school days. It wasn't homesickness. Something about the song I was listening to made me just stop and think about how lucky I am. I've had a great life. My parents were very supportive in whatever I did and still are. My friends were always there for me and I never endured any life tragedies. The truth is that I really have no explanation as to why that song triggered memories of home. It just brought back mental photos of friends, girlfriends, and what I personally considered an ideal life. I really do think I've led an ideal life. Never hurt for money, never abused, never had problems making friends. The only thing I consider a life tragedy is the fact that I didn't get a new car for graduation, but it was that or tuition and I fought to hard to get here to not come. I think that I'll love it here. Actually, I already do. Most people say that you will get incredibly homesick and even want to come home early on in your first year of college. I don't see how. The people around me are great, my classes interest me, and I'm never bored. I don't not miss home, but I'm not sitting in my dorm room crying about the good old' days either. As far as I'm concerned, the good old' days are just beginning. I'm really looking forward to this weekend and the next. This weekend I'm probably going out to a club with a group of girls, one of which I am finding myself attracted to. The next weekend is another football game. I'm in the band, so football games are a fun time for me. Marching in front of 80,000+ people is intimidating, but it's also a rush that words really can't do justice for. Of course, that's only half the fun. The real fun from football season comes from goofing off in the stands. I'm glancing at my clock and see that I've only got about ten minutes left? How am I going to ramble on for another ten minutes. I write fiction stories for fun, love English, and am a Journalism major. Rambling writing style for me. I wonder why I'm occasionally having trouble continuing. Who knows? Psychology is supposed to be able to tell what makes me tick. Maybe one of ya'll will find something interesting about my personality from all these completely random thoughts. This is harder than I thought. Maybe it's because there's not a structure to it. When I write, even a fiction story on my own for fun, there's some kind of structure. A plot, guidelines to follow, something that serves as a skeleton for me to put some meat on. Just writing off the top of my head is something new. Well, not new, but usually the ideas I get off the top of my head are related to a particular subject and I can plug them into a structure. That's actually how I start a lot of my English papers. Start off the top of my head and find a flow. After that, it's all easy, but here there's not even a skeletal structure to set my ideas on.