Thursday, September 09, 2004
"Do you have homework already?"
"Yeah, I have a lot of homework tonight"
Staples teemed with prep school kids hunting for back to school supplies. The shelves were decimated, and when my mother and I (printer paper and thesis binders in hand) get in the elevator with a father and two teenaged sons in tow, he and mom exchange weary looks. one of those the joys of superstore shopping looks.
except and then he says, well if we're lucky they'll work hard and do well and it will be worth it.
my mom didn't correct him, but looked amused.
I just truely noticed the gap between then and now, here and there. High school never felt farther away, yet I had to suppress the urge to act too cool for school (like there was anyone to impress). And I couldn't stop myself from whining "I don't want to go baaaaackkkkkkk"- clean notebooks and a new box of pens hold such a familiar ambivalence, promise and dread. But when the alternative is this utterly grown up world....I just don't know. Quilmes and martinis or colored pencils for history maps? How to navigate?
Recently reminded of the following, can't believe I forgot it:
"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except the memory of the smell of smoke and the presumption that once, our eyes watered" -R&G
"Yeah, I have a lot of homework tonight"
Staples teemed with prep school kids hunting for back to school supplies. The shelves were decimated, and when my mother and I (printer paper and thesis binders in hand) get in the elevator with a father and two teenaged sons in tow, he and mom exchange weary looks. one of those the joys of superstore shopping looks.
except and then he says, well if we're lucky they'll work hard and do well and it will be worth it.
my mom didn't correct him, but looked amused.
I just truely noticed the gap between then and now, here and there. High school never felt farther away, yet I had to suppress the urge to act too cool for school (like there was anyone to impress). And I couldn't stop myself from whining "I don't want to go baaaaackkkkkkk"- clean notebooks and a new box of pens hold such a familiar ambivalence, promise and dread. But when the alternative is this utterly grown up world....I just don't know. Quilmes and martinis or colored pencils for history maps? How to navigate?
Recently reminded of the following, can't believe I forgot it:
"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except the memory of the smell of smoke and the presumption that once, our eyes watered" -R&G
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