The Difference

This is the kind of day that was created specifically we me in mind. The kind of perfect, December Sunday that is characterized by overcast skies and a chill in the air. The kind of lazy Sunday where church ends and noon and the rest of the day is begging to be spent in bed with a book, a pen, and a never ending cup of hot chocolate. If only I didn’t have this 6 page paper {due tomorrow morning} standing between and me and my Sunday.

In theory, it doesn’t sound so bad. Writing 6 pages isn’t really that many, and it’s not like writing isn’t one of my favorite things. Because it is. It is not even like I am uninterested in the paper topic, because I am. It is more like I quit reading a few weeks back, so I am not entirely sure what I am going to be writing about. And it’s the fact that it is my favorite month of the year and I would rather be watching Christmas movies. It’s the fact that my mind has been so distracted by other things this week I can’t even begin to tell you what went on in most of my classes. It’s the fact that while I have spent the last 15 years of my life being a model student, this semester I absolutely collapsed and would love nothing more than to put it all behind me. It’s the fact that I feel cheated out of my weekends when I have to spend them working and doing homework, and when I do go out, I don’t get to go out with the people {person?} I actually want to spend time with. Not to say that this weekend was all bad, however. If I look at it in separate chunks, it was actually pretty ok.

Friday night I went to a bonfire. I don’t think it was a planned YSA thing, but it definitely had the crowd of one. I generally had a good time, and I met some semi-interesting people, but it just cements the fact in my mind that YSA activities are not really my thing. I don’t expect to meet people there who I will actually want to spend time with. Besides, like I mentioned way back in August, making small talk is exhausting. And I don’t really care for it.

Saturday morning I was a missionary! And it turns out I was right about that experience. Knocking on doors is scary. Even when you have a companion nice enough to let you stand there nervously smiling while he does all of the talking. Will I go again next month? Maybe. Am I glad a dragged myself out of bed yesterday morning and actually went? Sure, why not. Does it increase my admiration for the young men who actually spend two years of their lives doing this? Absolutely.

Saturday evening I worked, and my shift was fine. Nothing spectacular, but I made money and people were friendly. You can’t ask for a lot more from a weekend shift waiting tables. I finished work about 9:30, and {briefly} considered going out, but in the end I opted for my pajamas, a movie on TV, and a bowl of captain crunch.

So that was my weekend, until today. And like I said, it was not bad. But it feels unsatisfactory for some reason. I think if I would have had things my way, it would have been completely different. And that’s the difference. That’s why I am writing this instead of my paper. Well that and I’m a glutton for punishment. {Apparently.}

I guess it’s time to get to work. I can only complain for so long before I get tired of myself.