Well, it’s August. That means fall sports are really kicking off, everyone’s rushing to the mall to get their school clothes (already got that out of the way, bam!), and the July heat is finally starting to let up. All of those things are great! I love new clothes, I love that fall is just cool enough to wear a hoody and some jeans but not cold enough to need a coat, and I definitely love the way sports rally my classmates and their family together. Yeah, I’m one of those people that gets decked out in the school colors and paints my face, then stands in the student section for the duration of the game while simultaneously screaming so loud my voice is undoubtedly gone by the next morning. Well, I do that for some of the games. Other times I just don’t feel like leaving the house so I stay up and check twitter for the updates that half my school is sending every other second. Whatever works, you know.
But with all of that good August stuff comes bad August stuff. And I mean bad August stuff. Yep, you guessed it! The first day of school. Dun, dun, dun.
Don’t get me wrong–I get awesome grades and I’m one of those kids that’s loved by almost every teacher I have, mostly because I actually turn in the majority of my homework in a decent amount of time. Usually I don’t even mind going to classes. But this year is different than all the others. Why? Because your clever narrator here decided to schedule seven out of her eight classes as college prep courses and the eighth as art.What kind of idiot does that to herself? Me, apparently. And so, for the next nine months of my life, I’ll be balancing hellish amounts of homework, a job, sports, other extra-curriculars, and anything my family decides they want me along for. Sounds fun, eh?
Alright, alright. I’ll admit it: I’m excited. I’m excited to see everyone who I haven’t seen the last three months. I’m excited for everyone to see me, because I feel a thousand times more confident now than I did at the end of my sophomore year. I’m excited to show off my new clothes, especially the new jeans that I blew my entire first paycheck on. I’m excited for my first meet. I’m excited to be an upperclassman. I’m psyched for football games. I’m even excited for Homecoming, even though it’s really not that fun, since nobody actually dances. I won’t go into the details of what usually happens at dances, since I’m guessing the majority of my readers went to high school at a time where dancing actually occurred at dances, and I wouldn’t want to ruin any happy/innocent memories for you with the trash that happens now-a-days.
So here’s the bottom line: I’m excitedly-slash-dreadfully awaiting the new school year. I guess I’m leaning more towards the excited end of the spectrum, but my mind keeps flickering back to the fact that I’m not going to have any downtime whatsoever to enjoy my life until next summer. Oh well. It’s my own fault, really.
For now, I’ll ignore my impending doom and focus on the happy things, like seeing friends and attending football games. It’ll all work out for me. It always does.