crayons are spilling everywhere

I tend to be an objective-type person, and can usually make a decision without too much bias. Yes, emotions sometimes get in the way (I mean, duh, talk to me for like 3 seconds and you'll see that's evident), but I don't usually let them sway me. If something's right, it's right. And if it's wrong, it's wrong. Black is black. White is white.

Right. Well. That's how it used to be for me at least.

I miss my clear-headedness. I lost it somewhere along the way. I don't know when. The beginning of college? The past year? The last couple of months? I don't know, it's hard to say. A gradual sort of thing. Now the things I thought seemed so obvious, really aren't. The clarity is missing and the clouds are rolling in.

I've been doing a lot of reassessing lately. If you don't know, reassessing is when you are in public and all of the sudden you remember/dwell/re-dwell on something in the past/something coming in the future that was/is/will be upsetting, and you stop right in the middle of wherever you are and just stare at the sky/ceiling and look completely unstable.

It's great. You should try it sometime.

Mountains and plateaus and mudslides.
Challenging. Discouraging. Dynamic. I guess that's my life right now.

I'm not very peppy today am I? I guess I have my reasons.

Here's one of them: I've been smelling the same half-full cup of stale coffee on my bedside table for about 3 hours. It's slowly driving me insane. At least I call it "half-full" instead of "half-empty," right?

And another reason: Two Mondays ago was the first day of my last year of class, and I just want to take a moment to appreciate the finality of that.

I've been attending some variation of school since I was 4 years old. 19 years. 19. Do they offer therapy for this sort of thing? I'm kind of afraid of what will happen in the years to come. How will I cope without The Man telling me I need to stare at pieces of paper for umpteen hours at a time, and then regurgitate that which I have neither learned nor retained on another piece of paper? The freedom will be confusing.

But it's more than that.

No longer black and white.

It's not that I'm upset that my life is gray now. I mean, it is. And I am. But my life is also yellow and blue and kelly green and magenta. There's more than one color muddling up the previously clearly-outlined picture.

It's a coloring book. And I'm like a toddler just scribbling everywhere. WHAT LINES.

Color isn't bad. Most people love it. Can't live without it. Color is what living is. I get it. I really do.

But now there's too many choices. I mean, have you seen that giant 120-count Crayola crayon box? It's magnificent, but how on earth is a person supposed to pick the right colors to create the right picture? I can't even decide if I want a plain or cinnamon-sugar Mall pretzel.

WHAT IS THIS METAPHOR. Sorry. I think I got carried away. As per usual. I always know it's time to stop metaphoring when I even lose myself.

I don't know. I really don't. Everyday, I learn that I know less than I thought I did the day before. It's really confidence-boosting.

I started running again though. I stopped back in May because I'm a wimp and heat makes me wilt. Already I feel better. If you haven't run down country roads through cornfields on a late-summer evening, then you should. I'm not a sappy person, but I have to tell you that it's kind of arresting. Affecting. Alleviating.

Basically it's nice. And I'm happy.

I'm excited about the crayons. The color selection is a bit intimidating, but full of potential. If I feel unnerved about something, the situation usually turns out better than I anticipated in the end. So I am optimistic.