Busy

Yes, that's what I am. If I were on Messenger, the icon would be red.

And so that is why I'm taking this moment to Reflect on Life.

See, today at work, I read four different freshman comp essays, all of which narrated painful learning experiences from the writers' junior high years. As I was working with each of these future-autobiographers, I found myself really enjoying the experience - after all, the essays were all for the most part in really good shape, and our conversations about them (I thought) were highly productive.

But then a few hours later, I found myself standing in line at Brookshire's, sliding my grocery basket on the floor (because whenever possible I refuse to push a cart), seeing an awkward-looking eleven-year-old girl in the next lane, and thinking, "Oh my word. That is SO what I was like in middle school. Only I was worse. Much. Worse." Suddenly, all the afternoon's captivating narratives, full of valuable life lessons, were overtaken by the awful memories of the Past, and all I could think about were how many, many ways in which I was the perfect topic for any typical school bully - and I found myself surprised that I made it out alive and (relatively) whole. And then I began to realize that I have never really thought back on those dark days of early adolescence. And that's because, well, folks, it's just not a pretty picture.

I've always thought, "Oh, well, no one is proud of their junior high years - we were all awkward then..." But seeing that girl, reading those stories - somehow it just all hit me. I was the most awkward girl of all.

All that to say, let's all rejoice that I wasn't assigned to write a narrative about a junior high experience. It'd be worse than breathing inside a latrine.

Now back to all that work I have to do...