up, out, away.
Around eleven hours ago, I realize it's just the marker of another year of not getting run over by a truck, or sucked in by a jet engine, or swallowed by a giant garbage disposal, but when you say "twenty... yeah, twenty," it just sounds different than "...nineteen." It's it funny how taking off a little suffix can have such impact on age association? Maybe it isn't funny, but it's strange. And silly. And seems as though it's true.
Spring break just rolled by. I don't know what happened, nor why, nor how. I recall sleeping in too late, watching others swim, itching constantly, feeling like precious days of freedom were suddenly much less precious without the pressure of this (school things) that (more school things) and the other (structure!) weighing on me. In fact, the precious hours and days I was so anticipating seem to have disappeared with little left to show.
Except:
Wednesday. I found myself in the care of some marvelous francophiles on the top of a secluded mountain, jumping on a trampoline for hours and eating a home-cooked meal at a wood mess table surrounded by old furnature, decorative animal remains, and souls very dear to me. It doesn't matter how briefly I've known them -- they can still be dear enough to merit this mention. And I have three polaroid pictures to prove it. (Becca, I think you would like these people very much.)
Speaking of which, thank you, Becca, for what you posted. I promise to get up there before this year is through, I swear I swear. You can always come up to visit me as well, if you ever have the time or desire. Maybe even this weekend? Or next. At any rate, the most likely day is a Friday. Can you leave me your room phone number so that I can call you when I'm there? I will get down there to see you guys!
Becca's post was actually quite relevant to my evening and day. I realized that birthdays need less significance put on them, and that even if one of my oldest and dearest friends seems to have forgotten it completely, there are others who helped me to make light. Why is it that I would be so put out about that? Culture, I suppose. But I wonder what is so special about a birthday that I would be upset--I should be more nonchalant. For example, I shall name a couple of cool things that did happen today. Jen and I got greasy bread and had a nice little discussion; Heather told us a fun story at the Goat today; got to see one of my froggies for my birthday; my stressful test for the day was cancelled; I got a beautiful mother's day card from a particular popcorn-slinging Spanky (yes, mother's day...); got a phone call from my long lost brother-cousin, who will be visiting soon; I got to go out to dinner with the two lovely ladies of my family; and, finally, I visited with some friends with happiness.
However, I now have to do a spring break's worth of French homework before 9:00am today, so I'd better get to it if I'm going to convince myself that sleep is on the horizon.
Why did I get on this blasted machine?
Ian, I'm glad to hear that you're alive still. Post again soon, man!
Spring break just rolled by. I don't know what happened, nor why, nor how. I recall sleeping in too late, watching others swim, itching constantly, feeling like precious days of freedom were suddenly much less precious without the pressure of this (school things) that (more school things) and the other (structure!) weighing on me. In fact, the precious hours and days I was so anticipating seem to have disappeared with little left to show.
Except:
Wednesday. I found myself in the care of some marvelous francophiles on the top of a secluded mountain, jumping on a trampoline for hours and eating a home-cooked meal at a wood mess table surrounded by old furnature, decorative animal remains, and souls very dear to me. It doesn't matter how briefly I've known them -- they can still be dear enough to merit this mention. And I have three polaroid pictures to prove it. (Becca, I think you would like these people very much.)
Speaking of which, thank you, Becca, for what you posted. I promise to get up there before this year is through, I swear I swear. You can always come up to visit me as well, if you ever have the time or desire. Maybe even this weekend? Or next. At any rate, the most likely day is a Friday. Can you leave me your room phone number so that I can call you when I'm there? I will get down there to see you guys!
Becca's post was actually quite relevant to my evening and day. I realized that birthdays need less significance put on them, and that even if one of my oldest and dearest friends seems to have forgotten it completely, there are others who helped me to make light. Why is it that I would be so put out about that? Culture, I suppose. But I wonder what is so special about a birthday that I would be upset--I should be more nonchalant. For example, I shall name a couple of cool things that did happen today. Jen and I got greasy bread and had a nice little discussion; Heather told us a fun story at the Goat today; got to see one of my froggies for my birthday; my stressful test for the day was cancelled; I got a beautiful mother's day card from a particular popcorn-slinging Spanky (yes, mother's day...); got a phone call from my long lost brother-cousin, who will be visiting soon; I got to go out to dinner with the two lovely ladies of my family; and, finally, I visited with some friends with happiness.
However, I now have to do a spring break's worth of French homework before 9:00am today, so I'd better get to it if I'm going to convince myself that sleep is on the horizon.
Why did I get on this blasted machine?
Ian, I'm glad to hear that you're alive still. Post again soon, man!