A lot of my mornings are quiet now. I wake up late, and I don't go to work, because for the first time since eleventh grade, I'm not working a minimum-wage job. You could say I'm having a two month vacation from life-- college, bills, parents, and fast food restaurants that crave my employment-- a vacation from all of it while I stay at my sisters.
Ironically, when I'm not faced with stressful home quarters or college schedules or urgent bills that disappointingly look like checks, I don't really want to write. What is there to scream out against or rally to the cause for? For these two months, I've ridden on a virtual free ride of late mornings, poker nights, holding my baby niece, back-to-back seasons of monk, the office, friends, CSI.... All things I would dream of once I finally fell into bed at 2 a.m. after work during this last year of college. And yet, now that most conflict is gone, I don't feel the need to fight or be challenged or the passion to write.
When I look at my sister, I understand her reason to write. I've always blogged about crap. But she never even considered a blog account until she had a reason to write. That little reason that has her writing also has her up at painfully dark hours, calming her little reason while throwup leaks down her shirt and into her hair, and has her twisting her back at impossible angles to be the perfect everything to everyone when I know all she wants is time with her little girl.
Anyways, that should explain why I haven't been writing even though I have endless time on my hands. Yes, be jealous all you want, but it's back to reality in two weeks and I'm sure I'll have plenty of heated things to say about the job market, and the horrors of living at home at the age of 20, and how exciting single life is supposed to be, bla bla bla. Now that I look back on all this, I get the sense that I am incredibly spoiled. Maybe.
