Lately, my daily thoughts and dreams have reflected a current trend that runs through my mind: the past. More specifically, people with whom I shared a stronger connection in middle and high schools. Thankfully, I got to see a few last night when I went to Sean's Bastille Day party (a lovely tradition) and post-party swimming at Caitlyn's house (where I learned that a bra and panties can double as swimwear when necessary).
Although I graduated high school a mere year ago, I still have emotional floods of nostalgia whenever I see these people. They have all been cryogenically frozen in my mind, and it is always a pleasure to see them thaw. My class has yet to fling their arms open and run screaming with heads squared towards mystery into "the real world." We have yet take on the toll of age and life and wrinkles, or the lack thereof, that truly indicate just how stable a person is.
Sometimes, I glance at the more "mature" friends of mine, and little naïve me gets the feeling that they have much more to go through before they reach the top shelf of maturity that self-delusion has prematurely placed them on. Perhaps I have absolutely no authority on this subject. I, with undeclared major and lacking motivation and self-esteem in hand, take on "the world" with an open mind, optimism, and the absence of pressure which time adds slowly as the calendar spins.
I am immature and I repeatedly open myself up to crushing blows and reality bitch slaps. I am youth, and I'm full of it. I eat all of the cookies you hand feed me, and when I try whipping up a batch, it's not quite the same. However, I do try more than half the time. I know it's not enough, but I'm working on it. I think this coming school year will be a vital turning point in my life, if I have anything to do with it. I need to push myself along, cut back on distractions, and try to focus. It's truly easier said than done; focusing is one of my biggest problems, especially when I know I can do something. I'm not even going to pretend that it makes sense.
My craned neck and arched back are a bit fatigued, so I'll end this post with a clip from dreamworld:
(Jacquie and unknown guy - with whom she's curiously comfortable - are kissing in staccato.)
Mr. Man: Would you like to have sex? Jacquie: Uh huh!
(Man and Jacquie kiss up a storm. Man pulls out three green condoms.)
Jacquie: You should probably go with the medium. The others would definitely fall off. Man: Yeah, you're right.
(Tazmanian devil kiss action while couple moves to bedroom.)
Jacquie: Is this your parent's bedroom? Man: Yeah.
(It doesn't matter. They furiously kiss. They're about to shred their garments when someone walks in...)
Man: OH! Heh, hey mom... (Boy, did he have a death grip on those rubbers behind his back.)
Mom: What are you guys doing? Man: Nothing. Jacquie: Yeah. Mom: Ok, well, (says something and everyone walks into another room)
Blast that woman! I would have had my first ever sex dream had she not barged in. A romantic comedy, go figure. Insert Jennifer Aniston and watch it become box-office gold.