a look at the beginning of fall...
I wake up to the radio alarm of a tired 90s rock song. My eyes are half open and I have the typical early morning confusion. I slide reluctantly out of bed to turn off the blasting music. I stand for a moment, debating with myself how bad it could possibly be if I slipped back into bed for oh, maybe 15 more minutes. For a college student at 7am, the most rational thing to do is always going back to sleep. When I finally get myself downstairs, I open the fridge disappointingly. Hungry, lazy, health-conscious, and broke is a tough combination. I somehow manage to scrounge something together from our myriad choices of condiments. I choose maté to appease my caffeine addiction.
I repeatedly check my planner, making sure I am carrying with me everything I need for the busy day in my burnt orange Prada knockoff. I don't want to have to walk up 9th street more times than necessary. When I get out the door, I am absolutely enamored with the early morning breeze of a day late in August. It smells like trees and asphalt. There is still shade covering most of the sidewalk. Shaggy-haired boys longboard down College Avenue and sorority girls in Nike shorts run with their ipods. When I get close to Broadway, I smile at the eager artsy types exiting Espresso Roma and nod to the "transients" lounging on benches outside the tattoo parlor.
I am an hour early to campus in order to make my three minute Teach for America presentation for a class that may or may not give a shit about what I have to say. I try not to sound cliché when I make a call to action. I want to sound relatable and engaging, while maintaining a sense of passion that will excite my classmates. They stare at me. I cannot tell what they are thinking. That's what it must be like to teach at CU. You pour your heart out to blank faces, hoping something you say will resonate with somebody. But, odds are, most are thinking about the shenanigans to come this weekend, or how shitty they feel from last night's shenanigans, or how they wish they could be participating in shenanigans instead of sitting bored in this stupid class. How sad.
For the most part, I find my classes interesting. I'm taking an innovative multi-media rhetoric class, a number of international courses that focus on political and economic behavior, an Afro-Cuban dance class, and a Spanish conversation class. The day is full of taking one hat off and putting another on as I balance my school schedule with my Cultural Events Board, Teach for America, City Manager's Advisory Committee, and social commitments.
I remind myself that I thrive in a full schedule. I keep my chin up, and embrace my day. There is a lot of walking back and forth between buildings. A class here, a meeting there, and TFA presentations in between. I have a lot of energy and am enjoying the lovely weather.
But by the late afternoon, as I trudge back up 9th street. My mind is in a different place. As my blood sugar dwindles and my to-do list stacks, I throw myself into one of the plush seats in my kitchen and groan. The thought I have been trying to keep out of my head all day bursts out, "I'm crazy..." I tell my mom.
A cat-nap, a cup of tea, or a snack usually gets me back to normal. I get excited thinking about my upcoming Skype conversation with Chris. I situate myself on my bed with pillows,a fluffy comforter, and my MacBook, and log into the system. Chris looks good. Although he seems to have given up on shaving and he still wears a band-aid on his forehead from that mishap at Aric's pool, he is an extremely welcome escape from Boulder. We exchange stories, worries, excitements, and sweet nothings for about an hour before he departs for another adventure. We miss each other a lot, but technology does wonders for long-distance relationships.
The rest of the night, I knock out out some studying, prepare myself for the tasks of the next day, and then do something fun. My mom and I chat over white wine until I decide to mosey. There are more conversations (and, uh, shenanigans) to be had and I decide to go find them. Hooray for fall.
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