09/05
My first honors english class is in about five minutes, and I'm stuck at the light for the now lifted drawbridge. A bridge that in my eighteen years of life I have never seen anything close to vertical. After my first few minutes of rage at the light and the millionaire yacht owner who decided to pass at this very moment, I have a sporadic, long laugh. "How ironic," I audibly say. This class is one of the many that are requirements for me to transfer to a top-tier engineering school, and what stands obstructing my path towards this goal is...engineering. My engineering forefathers designed this bridge, the yacht passing under, the light system for the streets, and even the very car I am currently have a psycho-laugh attack in. All my anger and stress is gone. This driving debacle made me really think. I, like any college freshman, have doubts on whether I want to be an engineer or whether I can endure another day of pre-cal/trig and chem lecture. However, now when these doubts try to surface I'll laugh it out because even the man who designed the MRI or CT scanner pulled his hairs because of a question on molecules.
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