Spontaneous

I'm not going to write what has happened lately (nothing interesting) or what will happen in the immediate future (also not interesting). If I can say anything about junior year, it would be that it lived up to my expectations, which were low to begin with. At my school, from the time you are a freshman you are trained to fear the words "junior year," which is spoken by underclassmen with a sense of impending doom, by juniors in a beaten reassurance of this doom, and by seniors in a "haha SUCKS FOR YOU" confirmation of the doom. Quite honestly, it's not that bad, but I wouldn't go so far as to say life is all good and dandy with butterflies and rainbows in a field full of flowers. I am not failing any class (we will take this moment to NOT think about physics/the GPA of the entire junior class after the last test), I haven't had any serious mental breakdowns, no hair has been pulled out of my head, and I've made a surprisingly large amount of happy memories. In ten years when I look at my life, I will definitely graph it as hovering around slightly sub-par "happy bliss" of my childhood, a steady downward slope of happiness from halfway through seventh grade that reaches rock bottom all throughout sophomore year, and then random upward spikes and a slow but steady increase throughout the rest of high school. My hope is that this graph will jump to an unprecedented and steady high all throughout college. Beyond? I have no idea. That is not on my agenda at the moment.


I feel like a thousand words are trying to tumble out of my head and through my fingers, but they are coming short and not making the whole way. This is a moment where I wish I was Emily Dickinson. She can do what I am desperately trying to do right now. My mind feels like it is going a thousand miles an hour and I can't even keep up. I want something more. I keep coming halfway with my experiences and I'm sick of it. I want to put on a dress, flip flops, and sunglasses, grab a cute over-sized purse and hop on the bus to NYC. I want to skip down the streets of the city singing whatever comes to my mind at any particular moment. I want to shop in cute little thrift shops, buy a book and a smoothie, and flop down on the grass in a park enjoying the sunlight, warmth, and sheer bliss of having nowhere to be and nothing to do. Or maybe I'd meet up with some friends and go to a concert. We would rock out, get food afterward, and make stupid inside jokes that will stay with us for years. Or possibly I'd meet just one friend and we would see Wicked. Once the curtain closed after the second act and we'd have wiped the tears from our eyes, we would rush to the back door and get autographs from the actors. We would gush about how incredible it was over sandwiches from some organic food store while relaxing in a park.

I want to do this spontaneously, and I want to do it now. I'm not fantasizing about getting on a plane and flying to Vegas, I'm talking about a $20 bus ticket and a four hour bus ride. I don't want to agonize over details of a trip, only to have plans cancel at the last minute. I want to stop moping and just live for once. Oh, hey there, math homework, APUSH review, topic writing, Huck Finn, and problem set. I didn't see you guys over there.

I've had fun this year hanging out with friends at school, both during school and during evening events. I've had a great time hanging out with people on the weekends, maybe at volunteering events or going to the movies. I've tossed in a few CoW trips in there and this year has been as socially successful as I could ever had imagined. But I'm done with that, and I'm entering into what will probably be one of the most stressful months of my life. I'm reaching the end of my limits and I need out. I swear, next chance I get I'm literally going to spontaneously go to New York City. I don't care if it's a day trip involving eight hours of traveling in the 24 hour period. I legit need to get out.

Now, I will resume pretending to care about Henry Cabot Lodge at the end of WWI.