apple crub cakes and such

and sometimes you have those moments where you realize, this is it. This is what people search for. Hold onto it.


I find myself fidgeting with excitement at the thought of school supply shopping for fall and I cant tell if its the smell of new textbooks or the notion I'll actually be starting the road to the rest of my life. I do love their smell if books though, its intoxicating with knowledge and the crisp freshness of newly printed pages. I detest the kindle for this reason. Sometimes I wish I could borrow other peoples children just to take them  school supply shopping and instill in them some of my neurotic tendencies when it comes to education. These are good neuroses though, I promise. Color coordinating notebooks to binders for classes is good. A little weird, but good. I associate school supplies with cool breezes from fall creeping in and warm, loose leaf tea leaves drifting in hot water with milk foam and apple crumb cake.

Tequila anyone?

It's been a rough week (and by rough I mean horrible). And if I wasn't so socially inept I would go out like normal people my age and have a drink because I could certainly use one (and by one I mean about six).
But both of my best friends are unavailable, my mother and I are at odds, and I'm not comfortable venting on anyone else.

Instead I spent some of my tax refund on new clothes because god knows I do need those. 

I drove to class the other day, cried for a moment in my truck, cleaned up my face, swallowed the knot in my throat, and walked in and took both my quizzes, none of my classmates the wiser. I don't do that. I've been in this vicious cycle of anger and sometimes things are bigger than paramedic school and work. And I genuinely feel bad because I don't talk about important things and I have this unmatched ability to act like everything is okay and people, the people that love me tend to forget exactly what I'm going through. And then I snap a little and these things bubble up from somewhere deep and even surprise me.

I don't know who I am anymore  but I know who I want to be. And it's so incredibly frustrating that I can't be that person until this is over so I'm sitting here while the gears in my head are grinding and the vibrations from  heart strings being played like a harp rattles my bones. 

I hate that I'm so hard on myself and I hate that I can't just relax.
I can't actually remember a time I ever really just stopped and took a breath; my brain is always feverishly trying to solve problems or creating new ones and in the midst of the chaos I end up missing out on life because I'm so wrapped up in my head all the time.





Basically, my point is I'm a perfectionist at it's worst.

.

It's one am and officially tuesday which means two things:
     First of all, I have my two-hundred most missed questions exam that's worth an astonishing amount of my overall grade (if you're starting to question his teaching now you're about how long it takes to contrive and hatch a human too late) and my oral final with the medical director

    Second of all, I'm a day closer to Thursday which is the start of my two-whole days off. That's forty-eight hours off with the mister at a hotel; pool-side, under the covers, fire-works, and wherever else we decide to wander. Or not wander. I'm absolutely content with avoiding society and all the scholars that will be celebrating cinco de mayo or reminiscing on a time they used to before they hatched their own pivotal moments that changed their lives for the "better"- snotty noses, pattering feet, addicting smiles, never-ending money pits, and the rest of their glory.







Please Cinco De Mayo and the day after, be good to me.

Much love,
the runner girl.