So, I started back to college this week. I may not update as frequently as I did during the summer, but the desire to write is still simmering within me.
I’m never quite sure how old the people around me are; I’ve never been a great judge of age. There is a real chance that if I like someone in one of my classes, she might be about 20 to 22. Now, that’s not too much of a gap when I’m 30, but I’m beginning to feel the difference. You know, not growing up watching the same television, not remembering the same music, etc. Of course, in this day and age there are a lot of folks going to college non-traditionally so I’m not alone in that regard. I just have no idea who is what age.
Does it even matter that much? Well, kinda-sorta-no. I prefer the confidence of someone who has already made some mistakes and has been through a couple of relationships, but the young 20-somethings have their perks. Sometimes an energetic solar flare of emotions can be intoxicating. Unfortunately, a lot of young 20-somethings are doing just that: getting intoxicated. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I don’t even like parties most of the time. Of course, there will be some introverted souls who aren’t like that… I am really rambling right now.
So! I guess I’d better get my ass in gear and get done with college before I start feeling any older. It isn’t just relationships or the lack thereof; it’s the worry that all of life is passing by while my hair gets a silver streak. The worry that past failures may become future failures. I must think positively. I must stay on top of things. I must be good to myself.
Wish me luck.
locked doors, glances
an 18 year old girl with perfect 80’s rocker hair
parking permits, asphalt
books, classes I should have passed before
the company store
familiar faces, professing light:
oh, it’s Mark again
the not-so-prodigal son returns from night
to darken the campus once more
I’d make it out to be a war
but it’s only the ticking
and hopes, and doubts,
and mismatched socks.