It is currently 1:38 in the morning, according to the alarm clock on my bedside table.
Ah, my mistake. It is now 1:39.
My room is the only one still emitting light and noise. Everyone else has gone to sleep and for some strange reason my body still doesn’t feel the pull of exhaustion. It is inevitable I will force myself to lie down in the dark around 2:30 and wake up sometime around 12:45. And it is rare that I can find anything productive to do with myself in any case…there is a to-do list staring at me on my mirror and so far I’ve only managed to cross one thing off of it. There are still many pressing things that need to be resolved in a timely manner, but I can’t seem to muster the will to accomplish any of them. Summer seems only to exacerbate my laziness. So being the hypocrite I am, I will just continue to wax on everything that needs to be done. I am, however, proud that I managed to rearrange my room all by myself the other day.
It’s a start at least.
I was talking to Bryan the other afternoon about blogging, and I confessed that I was thinking about starting one. He encouraged me to do it, and so here I am. I don’t know what I plan to accomplish with it or what exactly I mean to talk about that anyone would have an interest in, but we’ll see how this goes.
It occurs to me that my current case of sloth is a by-product of boredom. Boredom, apparently, is dangerous for a creative mind. Perhaps I need to do something with myself, seeing that my half-hearted job hunt has proved fruitless. I still have an empty canvas in the corner, maybe I should paint something. I tried drawing from magazine advertisements earlier, but in the end I made Gisele look demonic, but I’ll blame that on the fact that I only had colored pencils at hand. Or the fact that I can’t draw.
Yeah, let’s go with the colored pencils.
I must confess: it doesn’t feel any different, being a high school graduate. In fact, it didn’t feel especially special being a high school senior either. All my expectation ended in disappointment, I suppose. The summer before I go off to college is starting out like any other summer, except for the fact that all of my friends are scrounging together beach trips with more earnestness than they would otherwise. But perhaps I’m being too cynical. Perhaps it will hit me when I step on the Oglethorpe campus next fall that these friends -most of whom I’ve grown up in some form or another- will not be around anymore. Even now though, the thought really doesn’t scare me all that much. Consult me again come September.
So change is coming. I know it. I expect it. And I just hope it doesn’t hit me square in the face when it does. Because I want to be ready for it.