So the new semester has begun. Let's just get the obvious out of the way. At the beginning of each semester I turn into a bumbling, emotional, hopeless girl who cries herself to sleep and wishes nothing more than to drop out of school and give up on life. Well, it doesn't always just jump into that severity. It actually takes place over time. For a week or so I keep my head above things. Then my resolve crumbles to pieces in a matter of days. It's happened every semester.
I'm only one day into this semester and I'm incredibly dubious of the future because I'm not feeling the least bit terrified. I know there's scary stuff to come. I've been warned time after time about working while teaching. I mean, here I am, working a full-time teaching job from 7-3 each day and then rushing home so I can change and make it to work by 4 and get off at 9. Then sleep at 10:00. I don't know when I'll have time to eat. I don't know when I'll have time to plan for school. I don't know when I'll have time to pee. This happens each semester. Yet, this semester isn't overwhelming yet. I'm not terrified of running out of time for things. I'm terrified of what could happen because right now I feel optimistic. I like my job and I'm excited for it.
My optimism was short-lived though. Not because of homework or projects or bills or unplanned expenses. Rather, it was because I have to pack my lunch each night before school. When I graduate I'll be packing my meal for the next day for the rest of my life and, if I want to live my life to the fullest and experience things that no one else has, can I really do that packing lunches?
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