I used to love writing so much. I could easily sit down at my desk, open a notebook, slide open my keyboard drawer, and just get at it. Words would come flowing out of me easily; I never hesitated about what I wanted to write about. Now I always seem to get stuck in the very beginning. When I am writing papers for class, with pages and pages of notes and prompt titles, I still sit there for at least half an hour, wondering if my words will make a strong impact, wondering if the humour that I think I translate into my work goes noticed, if at all. Writing, like being 10, seemed so easy.
This semester I am tutoring kids at a local elementary school near my college. The first couple of times I didn't really feel like I wanted to be there, counting the hours and the corresponding money that I would earn. This semester though, after swim season ended, the first time I went back was nothing short of magical. I can still feel the smiles, and grins, the laughter, the little warm fingers in my hands, the tiny bodies crushed against my legs, holding on as if I was the world's shiniest new toy. Being able to see smiles on these kids faces reminded me so much of my own childhood; how we would run around on the school field, where the most important thing was whether or not your best friend would share that last Rice Krispie treat with you, or whether it was rounders week. Tears were shed because we couldn't go into the avian cage to hold the bunnies and listen to the birds squaw and call, and seating at lunch was never a problem. We were seated in according tables. I still remember the lunch boxes that my mom would lovingly prepare for me, me looking forward to the days where I got ramen noodles, and then feeling nauseous all afternoon long because of the intense MSG.
Point being, it was lovely being young, immature, and innocent. It was lovely not knowing that as you grew up you assumed more responsibility. It was lovely knowing that boys would always and remain stupid, but when you found the boys that weren't, you learned about unrequited 'love', awkward rumours, embarrassing yourself, and illusions of grandeur. Yes, it was fun waiting every day to see that same guy, then feeling horrified and incredulous that he was now going out with someone else, or that he 'made out' with this other girl. What is the same in high school is the same in college. We interact with people in games. You say one thing, it's taken in as another. The insane, sweeping parties create one night relationships and one night embarrassments, and never long lasting connections. The lights swirl around you, the booze is neverending, and all you want to do is to adjust that oh-so-cute dress and remind yourself that none of this is a pathetic farce created to market yourself in the most unforgiving industry of all: life.
You will look around those college dorm lounges, or if you are lucky enough, out in the open air, one hand on the phone and the other holding a red cup, listening to your varsity jocks holler, listening to girls in clacky heels and short short dresses bending over and flicking their hair, seeing people talking too far away from each other, seeing people way too close to each other, watching other people watch you.
And then comes those nights where you're far too pissed with life to really care. You are spinning in your own little party, laughing at your own observations, enjoying life and your friends because at the end of the day, why spend it all worrying over little details? It's college, its never going to happen again, and you continue to shorten hems and buy those push up bras and brush on the eyeliner and you tell yourself that everything you do is enough to validate yourself as a dignified and respectful individual.
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