People ask me how my first year of college went. Lots of people ask. My family. My friends. People from church whom I know slightly but not well. It's like senior year of high school, only not quite as bad. Many of you remember that. All year long well meaning people ask, "So, what are your plans? Are you working? Are you going to school? Where are you going to school? What are you going to study?" And you can't be provoked because you do the exact same thing to all your friends and anyway, it's nice that people care about your life and want to take the time to talk to you. But all the same, it becomes exhausting answering the same question all the time. That was how senior year of high school was for me. And now that I'm back from college for the summer, the questions begin again, this time people wanting to know how the first year of school was. And again, you appreciate the questions because they care about you and again, you're doing the same thing to all your friends but it does grow monotonous after awhile.
Point made.
Anyway, my first year of school was amazing. I think it has been the best year of my life so far. Don't get me wrong, because I've had a great life anyway. I have a great family and I loved being home-schooled and I loved playing violin and orchestra and had a great church, but college is a completely different story and I love how everything is different. I love living in a dorm where I'm somewhat independent but still feel safe and cared for by the RAs and RD and all the adults who work so hard to make sure that you aren't dying or anything. (When you read as many murder mysteries or watch as many episodes of Monk as I have you start appreciating having lots of people close by in case you ever are in an emergency.) I love moving around from building to building all day and not being in my room all the time. I love seeing my friends everyday. I love classes and my profs. I love late nights in the Music Building, sitting in the empty hallway outside the practice rooms and talking to one or more of my friends. Often those conversations end up with me laughing so hard at something not very funny that I can't breathe for a couple minutes. Awkward. But still great.
Yes, college life is pretty great and I'm looking forward to going back in several weeks.
With all that said, there are definitely benefits to being home again. I'm able to sleep in. Oh blissful day. You know what one of the worst feelings in the world is? It's that moment when your cell phone alarm goes off at 6:15 in the morning (or 6:30, 6:46, 7:00, 7:15, or 7:30, depending on the day) and you are wrenched from your blissful oblivion and the room is chilly and dark and your bed is so warm and you're still so tired and you can't think of anything happening that day that seems worth the effort of getting out of that bed. But because you're a responsible individual you know you need to get up so you stagger down off of your bunk bed and grab your bathrobe in the dark room and head out to the shower, bleary-eyed and unable to say anything friendly to anyone who happens to be in the bathroom. Usually I can manage to say something coherent if it's someone I know but I'm never able to smile. Or because you're a not-so-responsible individual and you don't have a class to get up for, just a practicing date with your violin, you turn that alarm off and feel the depression of getting up hit you and close your eyes for another 45 minutes and then feel like a slug when you do get up for not being productive.
I swear early-morning-can't-get-out-of-bed-depression is the worst feeling in the world.
So, off of that tangent, I do love being able to sleep in. I also love hanging out with my family, especially my mom, and cuddling with my little bro and having long skype dates with my bestie. And it's great to earn some money.
Ah yes, money.
So I have a job. It's at Taco Time. I love it and hate it. It's not a bad job. My coworkers and managers are nice. Most of the customers, or 'guests' as we often call them, are nice too. The bad part about it is that in a 5 or 8 hour shift there are so many opportunities to make mistakes. And being the perfectionist I am, making mistakes depresses me.
Perfectionism is a good topic for another time, however.
So, there's a long update on my first year at school and my summer, all wrapped up in one. And maybe I'll share some of my favorite pictures or something next time, but I probably won't because they are all on Facebook for you to see anyway.
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