"Next semester, I will"

I always say that next semester I will do this, and next semester I will do that.
Today is set in stone and I will not be able to change what has become.

Well that's not true.
Today I will be a better person, today I will do my work, today I will update my blog which truth be told, no one knows about but me.

I'm not going to do things with the help of my peers or whatever. I'm going to do things on my own by myself.

Anne of Green Gables said (in the movie, not the book); It's not what the world holds for you, it's what you bring to it.

Well, let me tell you, I'm gonna bring it.

But speaking of next semester and the remainder of this semester.

I'm going to get things done. I'm going to make good on my goal to make noise in the Mills Music Library.

Here is some more information on the Mills Music Library:

Located in the B162 Memorial Library, the Mills Music Library is tucked away from our general field of vision. We walk past it every day and do not know that, in the ground below us, there is a little world of repertoire displaced from its original settings. You can open up a record and be transported to 18th century Austrian countryside or a luau in 1879.
I first went there with a friend for an AP World History project. For two days, we frantically scoured shelves for Eastern European music to illegally compile a tape of while dodging the suspicious looks of librarians, only to find that we had burned CDs full of computer shortcuts instead of songs. Needless to say, I had less than jovial feelings toward the library. But it's always bugged me that I wouldn't like something with the words "music" and "library" in its title. So I decided to go back again to give it a chance.

Upon walking in, I was met again with the deafening silence that accompanies the inner layers of Memorial Library. My friend and I were greeted by a man with a debonair Buddy Holly look, who asked us if we had any questions at all. He was a little surprised when I took up his offer.
His name was Tom Caw, and he was what people would call "adorkable." He deadpanned interesting facts. For example, the Memorial Library is underground for the simple reason that the collection is too massive to be supported by any above ground floor. Its contents have outgrown first the Music Hall, and then the Humanities building. We walked around the Hawaiian music exhibit, which from far away seemed rather simple. As we stepped closer, we were faced with a set of shiny beautiful ukulele derivatives, each from a different style and juxtaposed with sheet music and records of the era. A testament to the care taken by library coordinators, the accompanying web site has a host of audio clips and videos of each instrument in the set.
Tom admitted that he was unnerved by the lack of music in the Music Library. "I think someone actually shushed me once." Occupants of a nearby room even complained that the piano used in the lounge by a composition class nearby created a disturbance. The last library he worked at had been a hub of entertainment, sometimes hosting live music. He said that he wishes that people knew that the Music Library was not intended to be a silent place. So I quickly volunteered to return with friends and make as much noise as would be tolerated by the silence lovers upstairs. I've since made it my life goal to bring sound to the Music Library.