Everyday Feels like the Last Day of School
I’ve been reminiscing about last fall. Not about pumpkin spice lattes, apples, Halloween or turtlenecks. About business and being crazed and working myself to the point of exhaustion. Nothing screams “Kill me now, please” like working seven days a week for about 14-15 hours a day, while attempting to take and pass a semester’s worth of classes. Last fall was one of those times, when I wished everyday that it was November 3rd. There was an end point. We would be victorious. But November 3rd couldn’t come fast enough. There was an end point, but it felt like the sheer hell I was in would never end. I look back to a year ago and now know that it feels like eons ago. Was there really an election just one year ago? I also know that we would not be victorious, but not something that I care to dwell on. People, make fun, but seriously, it felt like a death in the family. But I digress.
This entire summer, I’ve been bored. So bored that I needed to write about it and remember exactly how the first few months out of college felt. Everyday felt like the last day of school. You’re somewhere and you have to be there, but you’re not doing much. Just kind of hanging out. Everything is casual and nothing feels too pertinent. I complained about that feeling. I also complained about being super busy. I complain a lot. But what I need is a happy medium. It’s like BAM. School’s back, except no one to take me back to school shopping or get me the things I need to make me feel better.
Today has been one of the worst, in terms of madness and craziness. It’s all I can think about. Not about the Friends of Hillary Event or eating dinner at Acadiana or dessert with the so very cute waiter at Vidalia or Happy Hour last night, with some of my new favorites. All I can think about is when this day will be over and that it is possible to eat a roll of Toblerone and a bag of goldfish crackers in one sitting. Where can I get more? The Toblerone, was the worst part though, because it just made me think of Amsterdam last Valentine’s Day.
I complain all too much that things are moving too slowly or how much I want something to end. Why can’t it be over now? The end date is so far away. I did that with the Election, with being in Europe, my birthday, and now with work. How many times have I sat and said to myself “I can’t wait for my birthday!” Now it’s coming and the plans have felt rushed, but I’m sure it will be ok.
I need to relax. Bliss will be nice next month. I’ll need it. Just sit back and enjoy the Toblerone. Things truly do go faster as you get older. Or is the time flying while I’m having fun?