About two weeks ago, the task was to get through that Last Day Before Spring Break. It felt Herculean, but we did it, all of us. Teachers, students, administrators, staff, parents, everyone. And we were given our two weeks, to recouperate and recharge. I slept a lot. So much so that I fell victim to the disease of oversleeping, which has only one symptom: a monstrous, ravenous desire for more sleep. And in this cycle, I somehow made it to New Jersey to visit my mom, dad, and grandmother. I watched a lot of Law and Order, ate Indian food, and — you guessed it — slept. I did a little reading along the way, but not much. A few days upon returning to New York — after having some decadent dinners with some fantastic friends — I left again, to go to Boston.
I saw college friends and remembered how much I love all my college friends. (Dearly.) And I got to reconnect with a former professor. Actually, he was more than that. He stoked passion for the humanities in me. I went to college to major in math, and I left with a dream of becoming a historian. And knowing how driven I was in college, it was rather a stunning achivement. As you know, I didn’t end up becoming a professional historian. (That’s neither here nor there.) I did, however, have my entire worldview opened up. He wasn’t just a former professor, but my mentor and guide. So as you can imagine, that was a treat.
And now, today, it has struck me that School is Fast Approaching. I have lots to do on my to do list. An anxiety producing amount of tasks. And I don’t want to do them. I want to whine, complain, kick, and scream. And contemplate ways I could extend my break.
I could force myself to get very ill by eating some moldy carrots I found in my fridge. I could build a life-like robot that does my bidding, like do my work for me and teach. I could believe deeply in the Snow Gods and Pray Deeply and Truly to Their Wonderful Powers, in the hopes of a snowday.
Or I could simply get with the program, buckle down, and stop whining. Which is what I suppose I’ll do. Tomorrow.