Death
Don't worry, no one died. Well, except Mozart. How old was Mozart when he died? You guessed it! 35. Although Woody Allen was 40, not 35, when he wrote "Death", it's close enough that I'm gonna keep that little tidbit in to show I'm cultured.
What does today's post title have in common with my mood? Why, I've been feeling like death for the past couple days. I'm on fall break, which should make me ecstatic! But I'm not. Don't get me wrong: I HATE school. But... school has provided structure for me over the past couple months and I've gotten used to that schedule. Now that they've yanked it away for an entire week I have no clue how to go about my daily life. This morning I couldn't eat breakfast because it felt wrong. Why did it feel wrong to eat at 10:00am? Because I eat breakfast at 6:00am on weekdays, and I eat lunch at 12:25pm. If I even glance at my water bottle in class, my teachers focus their laser eyes on me. They have a serious problem with water bottles.
So as you can see, without this rigorous and demanding structure in my life on the weekdays, I'm no better than a helpless fish stuck out of the aquarium. Sure, I can drive by the aquarium; but there is zero possibility of me breaking into it (I'm talking about the school, not some high-tech fish bowl). Most of the time I think napping will solve my problems, and if I fall asleep I won't realize that time has passed and soon it'll be time for me to go back to school. But then I realize that I've already slept all night, so it's pretty much impossible to fall asleep, because I do not, in fact, need more sleeping time.
I'm stuck in a rut. I don't want to do schoolwork. I have no motivation because the looming threat of having school the next day doesn't exist. This goes for college applications too. I hope tomorrow I'll be able to get my butt in gear and actually accomplish SOMETHING with these stupid applications.
I keep looking up at what I've just typed, hoping I've written enough to constitute a full blog post. Oy vey I'm a monster. Excuse me while I go cry in order to re-hydrate myself in an effort to do something with my hands. Did that sentence even make sense? Who knows. Who cares. (I do. I cares.)
