the old college try

I've been pensive during nights lately. thinking about the day to follow.  when I have big days on the morrow, I often plan everything out the night before, as I'm sure most of  you do.  I always always wish I could just skip sleeping and instantaneously arrive at the following morning.  this is because I am excited to do what I have planned for myself, and also because I have lived with myself long enough to be slightly scared that I won't do whatever it is I planned tonight tomorrow when I wake up.  as this barren blog proves, I have not had anything on my schedule so exciting that it results in sleep lost and wishes for morning.  

no, I have been spending my late nights musing on not the following day, but on all the days to come.  thinking about me.  I have these lists in my mind: things I have done, things I am doing,  things I need to do, things I want to do. the former two haven't given me much to work with.  and the latter two are becoming fuzzy as I entertain the thoughts and question, do I know myself at all?  what I mean by this--there was a time not long ago when I was certain I was going to get married very young.  I don't even have a remote preference on this matter, let alone have any form of certainty upon what the future holds.  but I was certain.   there was also a time when I was certain I was going to do things to change the world, help people.  I wonder, though, if I must trade in such sophomoric ideals for levelheaded career outlooks.  or just sheer laziness and lost time. the question that overcasts my sky of thoughts tonight is not will I reach my potential, but remains, what is my potential? 

tonight, I am certain that I have taken everything St. George has to offer me.  I miss those blue mountains.  when I am near those blue and vegetated mountains, I'm arrogantly proud of the red and rocky ones which currently adorn my view.  but I don't recall missing them as I do those blue, snow-capped.  I love blue.   my summer in St. George has been so meaningless to me.  how can it be?  what I am now hoping to be my last summer at home was supposed to be memorable.  but I have associated St. George exclusively with home. with childhood. with my mom.  perhaps it is so with childhood.  but since I have decided to bloom where I'm planted, St. George cannot be the only place I call home.  and I may not always have St. George, but I will always have my mom. 

and as I lounge through my summer days, in between a term and a semester, I hope I find a way to crawl inside of me again.  to be myself and get something worth doing done. I'm having a hard time materializing the something that's worth doing. regardless, it's time I gave something the old college try.  because summer has found me a foreigner to hard work and happy plans.   I long for the day when me and myself say sorry and make up, then reunite like old friends always do.  

"be not simply good; be good for something."

- Henry David Thoreau