Its amazing to consider that four years ago today I was laying on the couch of my family’s living room watching Gilmore Girls on DVD, and affirming to my mom that I had no homework, had finished all my college applications, done my laundry, cleaned my room, finished washing the dishes, walked the dog, set my lunch aside for the next day, and taken a shower after soccer. But, both Toby, our dog, and I knew that the college essay, laundry, room, dishes, Tupperware, shower, and even Toby himself would still be waiting for me once I watched Loralai panic because Jessie had wrecked Rory’s car and Rory had fractured her wrist. Aka: I was marathon re-watching old seasons of my favorite show with only a break to sit through dinner and make tense conversation with my mom, who at the time, still didn’t “get” me.
Who knows if this is really exactly what happened January 25th 2007, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were. I remember those days well, getting drunk in the Taco Bell parking lot after school and doing my homework the class period before it was due. Four years have passed, and I must say- I’m a changed person. I no longer live in my mom’s house.
Now I’m three and a half years into my college career, which were (surprisingly) full of diligence, work ethic, and good grades— yet I just want to go to happy hour and watch Modern Family. Instead, after serving pizza and booze during lunch today, I vaguely considered biking to the gym while I was slipping under the covers and turning off the light. But I couldn’t nap. I kept reviewing all of the work I was putting off while hugging my pillow exasperated with my work ethic. I just have too much of it. So, after having so complacently sat around and put off my scholastic development four years ago I can only reminisce about my carelessness while writing an english assignment in the library while sipping on a cup of cold black coffee. Spending my entire evening surrounded by stacks of books and bright lights, I can only think: I don’t know what you did, but you did good mom.
