I remember them. Those skinny light brown barley pebbles picking away at my not so permanent retainer. I took them with a heavy pour of two percent milk, two spoonfuls of white sugar, and a minute forty seconds in the microwave.
Something is wrong when you've been back one day and you already feel the crunch. Or maybe something is horribly right. Depends on the person you are. Or how much you weighed at birth. Or how many extra curriculars you collect.
Some people don't work. How? Just tell me. How do they not work all day. Who pays their rent? Jesus? Tinker Bell? Trust fund? Chase bank? Grandpa? It's OK. We all come from different socio economic backgrounds by some chance whisper on a wind. No judgement as always. But, I'm violently curious. Instead of going around the room and introducing our pets and a book we read over break, I want to know what you do all day. Is that crass?
Have I been emotional blogging? That is a good question to ask.
The truth is you're never ready.
No one is prepared to chew on their own teeth at five in the morning at fifty below.
Skin and Jam