Carrots in Ranch


Mondays seem to have lost their sting. When every day is filled to the brim, bursting with things, I can’t help but lose the terror that Monday brings. Every day is Monday, but not quite. Every day is starting again, since sometimes evenings turn out to be fun, and then it’s back to being serious.

I hid my bruised legs, despite the sweltering heat. The darkening bruise (which is healing) on my calf keeps me from baring my legs in the remaining summer heat, which still burns as though it’s July. The leafs and acorns are falling now, changing already into a yellow shade, crunching under the wheels of my car. I am tempted to make myself fancy breakfast of eggs and waffles, with cups of cranberry juice and then hot chocolate, but I realize too early that I am not motivated or hungry enough for that. It comes with a mood, a bit later on in fall. It isn’t even truly fall yet, just fall in act.

We, collectively, as in students, pretend that our lives are organized by the timing of school. Our social calendar acts around the way school is, but season never quite comes into play in our minds, at least not the way it should. It is STILL summer, and some kids are still at home or vacationing. It is “fall” for us already, since for us, summer ended a week ago. The summer that we consider to be true summer has passed, and while the temperatures remain the same, we are now confined to buildings where we are tricked into thinking that it is much colder, much later in the year.

Everything’s always rushed now. They put off cross-country practice today, due to the heat. But looking at my classes, realizing how soon everything is due, and the lack of time to do it… I don’t have a choice. It has to be done, and though I don’t always mind doing it, sometimes it is a hassle to organize my thoughts into school-like coherency. My English vocabulary is still rebuilding from the devastating blow of French, while I falter in my practice of French, slipping far too easily back into English. I want to walk around one day, refusing to speak in English. I can learn and interpret in different languages. Perhaps the others can’t, but I want to.

The work in so many of my classes gets confused in my head. Sociology, Business Law, AP US History, Shakespeare, and English. So many connecting threads, all bound together in this knot in my head. I have to draw each one out slowly, trying not to tear the strand of knowledge, the small bit of understanding and the details that make each class unique. I love the classes, but I could do without some of the work. I know the purpose, though, and I don’t entirely object. I only wish my time could be passed in both fun and interesting pursuits. School is interesting, and only fun in the way that a nerd like me can consider school to be fun.

A demain, mes amis. Je vais parler en francais, je crois. Si j’ai le temps!


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