Change

It's spring out. I like the spring time. Today the clouds dispersed after torrential rains displaced all the mulch from every flower bed on campus. That's the trouble with mulch in a garden on a hill. It floats away everytime it rains. The clouds left too, the wind picked them up and moved moved them, just like the mulch. Nothing stays the same, there is no such thing as consistancy. The mulch will always be moved and the clouds will always move on and then it will be sunny and the sidewalks will be muddy, and eventually it will dry up there dirt will be encrusted in between every little pebble in the rough concrete. There is no consistancy.

I woke up at 11:30am, not quite lunch time yet. I'm not exceptionally lazy, although I suppose one could argue that point if they liked, but sundays I like to take my time. Not that I refuse to work. Once I'm awake and moving Sundays can often be my most productive days, but sunday I take time to relish those moments where I don't have to be up right away. You could say this is a problem. I've relished that extra sleep to much on a school day before and missed a class. That behavior might make your point on the laziness case. But Sundays it isn't laziness, just leasuredness. I made my way over to the village market to get food, scrounge up a breakfast burrito before the dinner across the street closed. I got my food and saw a few people I knew, but their table was full. I wasn't going to be the one to sit a table by myself. So instead I went back to my room with a purposeful stride. After all I had intended to go back there all along, that's why I was leaving. It had nothing to do with the fact that there weren't any open seats. I was busy, it was sunday. The relishing was over.

Grades have been a struggle. I usually do well. Well enough anyway, but this semester it wouldn't be far fetched to say that I'm failing. I'm not failing in the sense of an F. I don't believe in societies definition of what failing is and is not. You are either suited for a task or you are not, but failing is judged entirely upon capability and potential. For that reason I say I'm failing. My capabilities are not being fulfilled. I'm getting lazy. The kind of lazy that makes one relish sunday mornings on a tuesday. I haven't always done poorly. I have been known to, on occasion, have 3.9 semesters. Not recently though.

I walked outside after being a shut in all morning. I'm not as anti-social as I sound, believe me. I am as extroverted as an introvert can be. But silence and solitude are also friends who require plenty of time. Being a writter doesn't help either. I can't write in the presence of people. I have to be secluded, cut off from what's around me in some way. At the moment I'm in the library surrounded by people, but there is a social iron curtain between us. You can be as cut off as you like even surrounded by warm people. Soon though, before long, I will need companionship, conversation, words of affection. Solitude isn't a constant comfort. Soon I will seek out other people.

And so the seasons changed. The clouds dissapeared, the cold was banished. Yet there is no consistancy. Sometimes it returns in bursts, but it is on it's way out I suppose. And one day it will return. Perhaps consistancy only exists in the inconsistancy of it all. Sundays will not last forever, I can be sure of that. Solitude will not last forever, I will make sure of that. And summer will have to go. Mulch won't stay where you put it, and clouds will move on or move in regardless of what you do. All that's left for me to do is accept it. Things move on.