Finding Poetry

Let's do a comparison, shall we? Here's how my lovely, poetic roommate describes tutorials:

"It's in the wonders of walking up the hill from city center, feeling the sweat start on your neck, and realizing that you get to go back to your room, sit on your bed, and dig into a piece of literature that you chose yourself. It's the sudden, exhilarating feeling following your tutor saying "well, what did you find most interesting in the text?" It's the crisp morning cycles down the back roads, under the bridges, and over the Thames towards your tutor's house where you know a cup of tea awaits along with criticism and praise."

Now, let's get my version:

"It's the feeling of pure terror as you wonder what you didn't read. It's the smell of books far older than you, which struggle to impart their messages into your brain. It's hoping and praying that something got imprinted on your mind this week. It's walking in knowing that no matter how hard you worked, the main comment you may receive is that you interpreted the prompt wrongly. But it's also the joy of learning a new subject once a week, the rush of making a a brilliant connection, the pride in a job well done."

I think I tend to focus on the first bit about tutorials rather than the last. This week I'm going to try and see the poetry that my roommate so clearly found in these weekly meetings.