my life now operates around a basis of routine. i get up in the morning at promptly 7:15 AM, i ready myself for school, i make my breakfast (which consists of cheerios in milk and a mug of earl grey tea), i pack my lunch (which consists of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread, a banana, and a juice-box), and i leave my house roughly around 7:50 AM to meet my carpool.

at school, i have my first three classes of the day (which consist of women studies, early american history, and american history in the twentieth century). i then take my hour lunch in the women students’ lounge and complete my latin assignment for the day. i have latin and english class after that. and then i go home usually on the bus or i hitch a ride with a friend.

are you getting the picture yet? work is just as monotonous, and i won’t bore you with the details.

nothing new happens. nothing exciting. in fact, the only thing i really look forward to is seeing alan on the weekends, and sometimes that’s just enough. i have no money to take a vacation and, even if i did, i would have no time to do so.

and in this realm of repetition and routine, i find myself stupidly happy — it’s a sort of satisfying contentment that lasts me through the months. i am just planning for that day when my university years will pay off, when i will have a job that i enjoy, when i will have the time to do something exciting and out of the ordinary. but when i hear about all these people i graduated with on backpacking trips across europe, asia, and australia, having the time of their lives, i long to have the time to do something so daring and fun. but i wait. i’m always waiting, wasting away in a shell of contentment.

time stops for no one. it’s one of those boring cliché that definitely rings true in my ears. the world will not stop for me to catch up, and i am in no hurry to catch it.