Don’t sweat the small stuff

There are two teenagers struggling with learning to skateboard or longboard in the parking lot outside my window.  A feeble push off becoming more and more confident.  “Heeeey,”  one calls out to the other, a feeble plea for help.  I cannot see either of them, the blinds to my window are closed.  The fleeting light in my room is a harsh contrast to the constant calls of noise from outside.  The window is open.  A cool breeze brushes my blinds back.  I flinch as the sound of a car lock goes off unexpectedly.  Quiet car, or loud surroundings?  My phone chymes.  Another text.  Don’t get me wrong – I would love to give my time and attention to those who ask of it – but why the urgency.  I should be doing homework.  I should be writing.

My coffee sits beside me.  An ally in a world of non stop energy consumption and time dedication.  Caffeine dependency may be real, needing to be awake is a more urgent matter.  Another sip,  the bitter taste gives me life, the warmth makes me feel whole again.

You should never ask me how many cups of coffee I have had, especially at this point in the evening or any given day that happens to occur after Tuesday.  At any rate, if you were to ask, I’d probably insist on another, this is about to be a tedious semester.

Still sporting my riding breeches, my legs are criss-crossed on my desk chair – the swivel kind, with arms.  Beside me is a paper containing an attempted outline at the article I’m drafting for next week’s issue.  Actually, the paper contains a drawing of a flower, a reminder to grab my roommate’s Student ID card and a note that says “DUE tomorrow NOT do tomorrow.”  In other words, my article is due tomorrow.

The sounds of keys hitting the ground and a soft breeze combing through the trees draws my attention outside.  I’m tired of writing in the same outlined format.  Tired of taking ownership of topics I know zero to nothing about.  Tired of the overly subjective nature of seemingly everything around me.  Over and over, I am told you get out of something, what you put in to whatever it is you are doing.

If I am currently working on mentally, physically and emotionally barring myself of any human features, it’s working.  I feel like a robot.  Riding is quite possibly, the only thing keeping me somewhat sane (and human).  It reminds me that there is no person too ‘big’ to make mistakes, no reason that you should ever stop learning, and there is no such thing as being ‘the best’ – there is always room for improvement.

My water bottle sits beside my coffee.  It seems best to line up allies, they tend to work best for you in some kind of order, some kind of plan. There seems to be a general understanding that if you have some kind of plan, it reduces stress.  Forcing myself to sit in my chair, thoughts of how ridiculous this whole idea of how stressed people were over issues like homework, the cheese that was just spilled all over our stove or struggling to skateboard while in quite a few other countries, people are fearing for their lives.  How petty it all seemed.  Considering how frequently stress solved an issue (never) made the idea of it all, completely crazy.

Dad, you’re right –

it’s all small stuff. 

I should probably stop procrastinating now.

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