Last summer

For the past few days, I've been thinking about the future, almost to the point of excess. In the midst of what I originally pictured to be a fun-filled, relaxing kind of summer, I find myself working nearly as hard as ever. This phenomenon has drained me a bit, and it's also taken some of my usually-philosophical nature away as well. Bear with me as I depart from interpretation and stick to the bare bones of what's going on in my life at present.

It's the last summer of my life in which I am still a child of sorts. Granted, I'm nearly twenty-one, but I'm in the last phase before I'm completely, totally, and irreversibly--gasp!--an adult. This time next year, I'll be a college grad. I'll be prepping for grad school. Trying to find a decent apartment. Looking desperately for a job.

And all of this scares me more than a bit. But somehow, I'm okay with it. I have this feeling that I don't get very often; the kind that says I can accomplish whatever I damn well please. With this in mind, I'm studying for the dreaded GRE, polishing up my résumé, poring over apartment listings, and writing cover letters for internship possibilities.

Sad as it sounds, it really isn't so bad. I feel almost productive. And the way I see it, I'm earning my vacation. God knows when I'm in Florida in five weeks, résumés, internships, and busywork will be the last things on my mind.