I don't think it's just this cold, though this cold does suck. It's also my blogging going negative, my comic lagging, my college essays not getting done...
It's wondering if I'm really going to be the salutatorian, or however you spell it, and whatever it means. It's wondering if I'm ever going to make it to State with East and Kent still sweeping Interp... It's wondering how to tell Erin that if my humor ever gets that good, I might abandon the duo and go to state in solos. It's wondering whether I'll have the energy to be in Cinderella, whether I'll get the part I want... It's wondering if I broke 650 on my SAT math score so I can get into the colleges I want to get into. It's wondering what will happen next semester, or this summer, and where I will be next fall - where I'll be flying home from for the holidays next year. It's wondering whether I'll become a teacher after all, or whether I'll just spend four years of undergrad floating through the aether trying to figure it all the hell out. It's wondering if I am capable of dropping five pounds, or if I'll ever want to. It's thinking about immaturity and maturity and where I fall, and whether my in-laws will like me and whether I'll still like myself by that time. It's wondering about whether I can conduct my biology experiment and everything else if I am allergic to latex. It's hoping that everyone is right and I will succeed like they all want me - like they all expect me to.
It's starting to be afraid that I'm getting farther away from my parents, but it's also being glad that I'm getting closer to my friends instead... It's sitting at a computer typing on an otherwise abandoned blog when I have congested sinuses and a cough. It's wondering whether this draft of my commonapp essay will finally be right. It's looking over at some wool and wondering if I'll ever be able to make another anything that isn't an essay.
It's taking a deep breath and remembering that we are out of chocolate chip cookies.
It's taking a walk on a day when it's 35 degrees out at the sun's zenith even though I know it will compromise my immune system because it feels warmer than midnight and that is enough.
It's having lunch with friends and talking about nothing of consequence. And everything of consequence. It's agreeing to go to a movie I don't want to go to so I can eat popcorn with people I wish I could see more often. It's thinking to the next day I can hop on my bike and forget about everything for a few hours. It's remembering the wind in my hair and hands in my hair and the sun on my face and warmth everywhere imaginable. It's looking at a photo, it's browsing the internet, it's texting someone important, it's smiling. It always comes back to smiling.
It's thinking about doctors and nurses and voting and being a legal adult. It's using a pink pen in my diary because I am the only one who reads it. It's about deciding to change my wardrobe on a whim and then making myself stop buying clothes. It's about not cleaning my room. Whatever it happens to be, it usually stops me from cleaning my room.
It's watching the sand fall into the shadow of an hourglass on my windowsill.
It's writing poetry.
It's sighing contentedly.
I guess it's just life.
It's wondering if I'm really going to be the salutatorian, or however you spell it, and whatever it means. It's wondering if I'm ever going to make it to State with East and Kent still sweeping Interp... It's wondering how to tell Erin that if my humor ever gets that good, I might abandon the duo and go to state in solos. It's wondering whether I'll have the energy to be in Cinderella, whether I'll get the part I want... It's wondering if I broke 650 on my SAT math score so I can get into the colleges I want to get into. It's wondering what will happen next semester, or this summer, and where I will be next fall - where I'll be flying home from for the holidays next year. It's wondering whether I'll become a teacher after all, or whether I'll just spend four years of undergrad floating through the aether trying to figure it all the hell out. It's wondering if I am capable of dropping five pounds, or if I'll ever want to. It's thinking about immaturity and maturity and where I fall, and whether my in-laws will like me and whether I'll still like myself by that time. It's wondering about whether I can conduct my biology experiment and everything else if I am allergic to latex. It's hoping that everyone is right and I will succeed like they all want me - like they all expect me to.
It's starting to be afraid that I'm getting farther away from my parents, but it's also being glad that I'm getting closer to my friends instead... It's sitting at a computer typing on an otherwise abandoned blog when I have congested sinuses and a cough. It's wondering whether this draft of my commonapp essay will finally be right. It's looking over at some wool and wondering if I'll ever be able to make another anything that isn't an essay.
It's taking a deep breath and remembering that we are out of chocolate chip cookies.
It's taking a walk on a day when it's 35 degrees out at the sun's zenith even though I know it will compromise my immune system because it feels warmer than midnight and that is enough.
It's having lunch with friends and talking about nothing of consequence. And everything of consequence. It's agreeing to go to a movie I don't want to go to so I can eat popcorn with people I wish I could see more often. It's thinking to the next day I can hop on my bike and forget about everything for a few hours. It's remembering the wind in my hair and hands in my hair and the sun on my face and warmth everywhere imaginable. It's looking at a photo, it's browsing the internet, it's texting someone important, it's smiling. It always comes back to smiling.
It's thinking about doctors and nurses and voting and being a legal adult. It's using a pink pen in my diary because I am the only one who reads it. It's about deciding to change my wardrobe on a whim and then making myself stop buying clothes. It's about not cleaning my room. Whatever it happens to be, it usually stops me from cleaning my room.
It's watching the sand fall into the shadow of an hourglass on my windowsill.
It's writing poetry.
It's sighing contentedly.
I guess it's just life.
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