The weather’s warmer, Prom’s over, tennis has started and is coming to an end, AP exams are in a mere matter of days, the word “final” has been tossed around by many a teacher. AKA: the school year is winding down. Summer’s so near I oftentimes feel like I can feel that summer vibe. You know the vibe I’m talking about; the lazy, green calm of outside, broken only by the sound of an occasional lawn mower, flip flops, sweat, sunglasses, bed at 2 rise at noon, smell of sun tan lotion, and constant, never ending relaxation and fun.
Knowing that these will all be characteristics of my daily life in a couple of weeks makes it hard to bring myself to sit down and buckle down. I’ll peek out my window and the grass will look so lush and welcoming. My phone’s on my desk and I’ll text up my tennis partner and suggest a quick match of tennis. Homework? Pshhh, I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m sitting in my photography class, and we’re having an interesting conversation on the making of heroin, and whatever photography assignment I’ve got on my mind nags slightly: I’ll get it done sometime soon, no big deal. Paying attention in class, but it’s just too dull. I’d rather think about my plans for the weekend, and text everyone to make sure the bonfire’s still going down. Who gives a hoot about what electrons do and why they do it. I need to find out if I’m in charge of bringing hot dogs. I’ll just call up (insert name here) and get the notes later. No big deal.
Except tomorrow comes and my homework’s still not done. Project due dates slip by and yet my assignment grade remains a zero. Later comes, my phone’s in my hand, and I choose to get on Netflix instead.
I am on a one way track to failing my junior year. This is so unlike me. The girl who scores in the top percentile or two on standardized tests, the girl who was the head of countless committees in middle school, the girl who passed freshman year and most of sophomore year with a 4.276 GPA, the girl who was a hard worker, who could buckle down and GET STUFF DONE.
Well, good-bye, studious alter ego of mine, and make room for the new procrastinating, disorganized, mess of a pupil.
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