One year for career day I dressed up as an architect. The curious reader should know (I've been reading Swift) that I was under the impression that an architect actually physically built houses. This desire to swing hammers and eat lunch on scaffoldings came from my growing realization--and pride--of my strength and general lack of girlyness. I silently viewed with the possible amount of contempt that an elementary school student could even possess at several of my friends who had dressed up as teachers.
It's fascinating when people discover something about themselves.
Like an obsession for Nutella, not knowing of it's existence until having a meal plan that allows one to buy near endless amounts of it during Freshman year.
Or a love for squished pennies because they are so compact and stylish. Disregard the fact that one pays near a dollar for it.
Or an inability to sleep without a clock next to one's ear.
Or a preference of bedspreads and blankets to clash with each other.
Or the revival of a routine in the best time in the world--the earliest.
I've missed my mornings
because I've found that this is the only time I can very truly have to myself. This and running. Not even to do anything crazy or personal; just to notice the quiet and the peace and think to myself for a few hours before the rest of the world wakes up.
I would normally cringe at the idea of waking up this early without anything to do, as unoccupied time leads to an uncontrolled thought process which never ends well for me.
This is fortunate because I, of which mini elementary-school-agéd me would disapprove, am in school to learn how to be an English teacher.
Or the discovery of one's calling.
Glory--there are still those mornings that no amount of reading and homework can keep me from thinking too much:
I'm trying very hard to come back. Thanks for helping despite my being undeserving of your help. I love and miss you.