BACK 2 SKOOL

Welcome back to Life of Sky I hope you had a fantastic and eventful summer. For me it is still summer. At least right now, while I write this, It is still summer. Barely, but nonetheless. I can proudly say that I have beaten my record for doing the least amount of “stuff” with my time this summer. If you think I’m lazy and unmotivated, you have it all mixed up.
These last few weeks of summer are like being in the eye of an enormous storm: I understand that I am going to have to work hard in a couple weeks. I know that the sun will go into hiding, the clouds will grow darker, and life for the most part will suck. But for now, all is well. Lets not rush things.
It’s like this: I am on death row. Tomorrow is the big day where I will be put down, my soul sent to judgment, and probably condemned to an eternity of hell. But tonight, I enjoy a last meal of all my favorite foods. No reason to get all sullen and lose my appetite. That said,

MOM and DAD– if you ever read this, LET ME ENJOY MY LAST F***ING MEAL.

Yes, I will do my college applications. Yes, I will take out the trash. Yes, I will take a shower. All on September 4th. So as of now, I am enjoying my last big bucket of kfc, and no one should interfere for any reason.
On a similar note, summer reading: not only tedious- cruel. The teachers see all of the gleeful expressions on students’ faces as the end of school and beginning of summer near, so they give us these books to read in order for them to get the last laugh. Students must have looked especially merry, because WE ALL HAD TO READ FARENHEIGHT 451. Whoever assigned us this book either didn’t read it or just loves making children unhappy.
Seriously, why did we have to read that? Why couldn’t we have just ripped pages out of Orwell’s 1984 and read that? I’m sure at some point you have gone to CVS to buy some Gillette ® shaving cream and saw the CVS brand sitting next to it. You know that the CVS brand will have a worse texture, work less effectively, and be overall crappier, but it’s cheaper. Congratulations, Ray Bradbury, you are the CVS brand of George Orwell.
Senior year engenders a bizarre effect on members of other generations. This effect grows exponentially intense with a person’s age. My parents’ friends and other people their age, for example, approach me with a contrived playful “slugger-like” manner, mess with my hair, pretend to hit me on the shoulder a couple times and ask, “are you excited for your senior year, big guy?” After I catch my breathe from their oppressive jolliness, I realize they are asking if I’m excited to go back to school. What do you think? Are you excited for old age and arthritis? No. But it is going to happen anyway.
Senior year is an inevitable right of passage into the better part of young adulthood. I don’t want to do it, but it looks like I have no choice. I am going to have to work hard for one more year. Just kidding, one more semester. But until then, I am going to enjoy every last bite of my last meal. Welcome back.