She Lives

 The most daunting task ever was posed to me today.
There it stood, menacing from the chalkboard :
"Pick up a 3x5 card and write down your name, major, year and a hobby."

Since I passed basic writing and arithmetic (although begging to differ, as it seems that I had to look up how to spell "arithmetic") the first three questions were simple enough. "Rebecca--noting how odd my capital R looks--, Environment & German, junior, annnnd... nothing." I got a whopping nothing. I sardonically scribbled "Work." then scratched it out. No one is that lame. Or in the very least admits it.

I think I turned in something sidelined like, reading. Or whatever. I need a life.

I'm not taking a dance class anymore, so nothing fun ever happens. Oddly enough, that takes the wind right out of my blogging sails. Ugh, cliches, avoid those like the plague. (If you smiled, give yourself two points.)

What my painful deliberately slow start to the semester has shown was only that I have very little to look forward to and even less of what I'd like to speak of and when I don't have that to draw a blog from, I tend to look back. And this is what you lovely folks get.
Reminiscing is the first word to comes to mind, but there is no affection in my thinking. A bored Becca brain goes to darker places and it leaves me caught between blogging what's really happening or what I'm comfortable with. At this time I choose the latter.

Time is a crooked bone. Set in its ways and not likely changing until I take a sledgehammer to it, bandage it, and let it heal. But that's a lot of work.

So the semester has begun, life has again found a routine, and I'm no worse for wear. Still kicking myself to get on my resolution to write more; it's coming. Slowly, but surely.