Final exams have ended two days ago, and I’m really really really glad that the 3 weeks are now over. A frustrating revision period reading the stuff which I like and which I know I cannot continue to pursue. Glorious sunshine that afternoon lifted my mood for a while. But sunshine and happiness is fleeting - it’s now surprisingly getting cold and dreary yet again on a Saturday afternoon today, with the grey clouds hanging unbelievably low in the sky, not like spring, but more like autumn.
I had some time to rest after exams, and I gave myself a few hours off that afternoon after the finalists’ party. I worked so hard, though some exams could have been better in my opinion. But grades don’t really matter much to me now. What’s the difference between getting a First Class Honours and a Second Upper now? Maybe afterall, I’m not fated to go to Stanford to do Masters in a totally different field - Stanford rejected my I-20 request (a required certificate for student visa application) not once, but three times (and it’s still not settled yet). Is God telling me to follow my interest in Psychology?
Walking alone under glorious sunshine (20 degrees that day!) from Euston to Russell Square to Holborn to Covent Garden to Leicester Square to Trafalgar Square, down Whitehall to Big Ben, after which I sat at Parliament Square for 30 minutes writing a letter to my professor, in which I vented my frustrations. I felt so happy and so free that moment. Free in a bustling London.
What’s done has been done and cannot be undone. I’ll just leave everything to fate. And yes, I still need to talk to that bastard at Stanford to sort out my I-20. Americans don’t seem to understand proper English. Oh well…
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