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Anais Vionet Apr 25
Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights.

My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.

A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.

College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought.

College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of.

Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.

I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill.

Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Hoary: "so familiar as to be dull"
Anais Vionet Jan 13
We were calculating theoretical yields on chemcollective
and somehow we ended up dancing to ”go left.”

We were finding oxidation numbers on labster
but somehow we started laughing.

We were balancing chemical equations on PhET
but now we’re singing “World we created” with hair-bush microphones.

Believe your competence - be impressed with your progress.
Attack every challenge with self-contained ease.
Armor yourself with confidence.
You’ll like the way you enjoy it.
**We started studying for school - weeks before spring term. Those names (Chemcollective, PhET, Labster) are tools for working out the chemistry equations from each chapter of our textbooks - like calculating theoretical yields from compounds. So we practice, practice, practice until we can do them blindfolded - or in pressurized situations like tests.*
MARS May 2021
The young lad
Studies through the dawn.
Sifting through pages
across the morning yawn

Wearily, he gazes through his glasses.
He tumbles somehow through the day
Trying, to understand the
Kinetic Theory of Gases.

When, oh when? Will it end?
His onerous rite of waking up
And studying, despite
Being worn out on the inside,

Keeps him afloat among the wreck.
When the world is sinking
Into an abyss
He is happy to just, be.

Yes he is,
To be on the verge of sanity,
To barely hold on to humanity,
To wake up, every morning.

For the situation outside is far worse.
While men lose their loved ones and
Moan in grief,
Happy he is; to study, and sleep.
This poem was written by MARS taking into consideration the pains of a student, who studies without knowing whether his exams would be held or not, who takes infinite pains to memorize the dreaded formulae just so he can score well, and set himself up in life. This is to all the students out there.
Debbie Stevens Oct 2017
All my life I was lost and clueless,
growing up with no filter and foolishness.
With no family to love and care for me,
I don't know how they could leave and betray me.

No eyes focused on me because of my low I.Q,
my life has changed because of the help from a few.
With scientists helping me to become smart,
I am now realizing my life from the start.

All hopes come crashing down,
I'm going back to looking like a clown.
It was great while it lasted,
all I want to say is don't take life for granted.
I wrote this poem in relation to the book "Flowers for Algernon" as an assignment for my english class.
Harshit Nangia Apr 2020
I sit staring into the wind
With an empty mind
Clueless of what to think
Aimless of what to do .

This feeling troubles me
It vexes me .
I can't find the balance .

Can I do them together
Or do I have to choose
This can't be forever
Hell! What have I got to lose

The question isn't either this or that
The question, is can you bring them both under the same hat .

As I write this, I think I can
Well I have got to ,
For I am a man
Do I have to choose between my studies and poetry . I hope I find the right balance .
Mia Sadoch Sep 2019
Am I really where I want to be?
Is this the path I chose, or the safest I picked?
Is there truly a prize at the end of this road?
And if there is, can I reach it wholeheartedly?

There is like a wall between me and those around me.
I don’t belong; I’m missing something.
I don’t have that unyielding passion.
I am bothered by too many things.

So I should just run away!
Run towards my goal, ***** the beaten path!
The scream of my soul will drown out the hardships!
This! Is! Who! I! Am!

If only it were that easy…
Can you always go back? Or is there a point of no return in life?
Penmann Jun 2019
I had a **** childhood
But at least the music was good
Timothy Mar 2019
Take my diplomas,
shake them, break them,
write me a few lines
worthy of this feeling.

Certificates! Shields, armour
that I have surreptitiously collected
to delay the terrifying decision
of what my life might be about.

I have wandered this lonely wilderness,
and now I hope to inhabit hearts:
no, just one would be enough,
sure, yours, you, reading these words:
you will do! Just one reader, just one–
if I could move one human,
it wouldn’t all have been a waste,
it would be exactly
as it should have been.
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