Spring break blues

Oh, this week. I am saying this with a tone of disappointment and regret. Disappointment at the fact that I am back, and regret because I definitely did as well as I expected on the paper I wrote poorly and the tests I didn’t study for during mid-sem. Whatever. We are all back. We can all let out a collective sigh right now because as you read this, the week is coming to a close. We have all been muttering expletives at the weather, at the classes and at the fact that we have to be back right now when all of our friends from other colleges are only just beginning the fun of spring break. I understand if some of you are with me in the resentment boat; there’s plenty of room in which to wallow.

I will say this; my break was pretty wonderful. The first day I was back, I slept for 20 hours straight, and I don’t know about most of you but I average about 4 to 5 hours a night here. Be it from the cries of the overly enthusiastic morning workout jogger, too much work or a job that prevents you from sleeping normally (hello 3 to 6 a.m. shifts). There is nothing quite as satisfying as hitting up my home bed for a booty call.

When I was home I got to reconnect with kids at my high school, and I watched some fantastic basketball games and the state wrestling tournament. I screamed myself hoarse and had a blast paying for overpriced pizza. To be caught up in the moments and drama that I remember from two years ago was a fun retrospective. It made me feel way older than I am though; I was surrounded by kids I taught to read when I was an aide for them six years ago. It was a qualifying moment. I remember being their age and seeing people like me, wondering, “Why are you here?” Those kids don’t understand that I long for the days when all I needed to do was a worksheet for homework, and the biggest deal to me was whether or not my team beat Eden Valley-Watkins for football.

Going home for break, I relished that I didn’t have to pay for food (technically) or a lot of other things. My parents missed me, which is one of the weirdest experiences of my life. I go home, and I feel like a child because someone is cooking for me, taking me along for grocery shopping and buying me candy. On the other side of that, though, I realized more why I hate being at home: reaching that odd homeostasis of being taken care of is freaky and made me want to leave so badly. I was so sick of being at home, I was inventing very involved vacations in my head, including backpacking, Disneyworld, New York or just about anywhere else.

I am happy I am back in Cobberville. I realized that the stress I experience here is different because I am doing it for myself, I am deciding how well I do, who I hang out with and what I do with my free time. I am reveling in the stress and craziness right now. Talk to me in a week.

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