It's been a good year for football- Alabama won the college arena and the Saints won the pro. I'm content with that. Too bad my years don't oscillate with the winnings of football; it'd be a great year if that's the way it worked.
As it is, it's not really a bad year. I'm just overworked and broke, and I can barely justify bitching about it since I'm the one that elected to take 17 credit hours. I should've just taken the four classes, but nooooooo- my impatience got the best of me. That little voice that says "I want it done now!" always gets me in trouble. And as for broke, I'd like to know who isn't. I'd like to get cozy with them, maybe see if someone could take care of my electric bill.
There's some hope at the end of all this, though, that I can get out of this mess and into another mess that's slightly more comfortable.
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to look forward to anymore. I look ahead and I see the same scenery for proverbial miles. My mother told me when I was a kid that I should slow down and take some time to do everything otherwise there'd be nothing left later. Well, she was right, and my impatience bit me again. I'm not sure what sort of exhilerating experience I'm supposed to have now. I miss the days when life seemed fresh every single morning, before they all started melting together. Is this just a part of not being a kid, or is it something I've done? I'm not sure, but I bet if I had more hours a day to get all the things done that I needed to get done, things could be different.
I know I'm in a pickle when I can't wait to take a walk by myself- two weeks from now. Because that's the only free time I have. Sometimes I think that it wouldn't be a bad idea to throw away all the things I know I should do and just do what I want to do. It's oh-so tempting because then life would be far more enjoyable, but I always remind myself that there'd still be a piece missing: that college degree I've been wanting and literally working for since I was five.
I suppose it was paranoid, but I pushed myself to always make As in elementary school because I was convinced that a college would go all the way back in my school career, see that I'd made a C in a math class, and then deny me entry. When I was in middle school, I had a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn't go back that far, or even to middle school- but I made good grades anyway, just in case. I got in highschool, and found out that that's when the grades really mattered, and while I was still making good grades, I was also too hellbent on having fun to really care. Why this all-consuming drive for a college degree? I watched my brothers struggle without one- I watched one try to live on 10 bucks a week after his ex-wife cleaned him out in child support every month. I watched another do basically the same thing. I watched them work shitty jobs that they hated just to pay the bills, and I listened to my parents talk about how disappointed they were that they didn't finish college and how their lives might have been better if they had've. I also listened to my parents talk about how much potential they'd had, what amazing kids they were, how they did everything right where it counted. If all those things aren't an inspiration, I don't know what is.
My biggest inspiration these days? My empty wallet and my head full of hope that it can be fixed.