The One Where She Talks About Ye Good Olde Days (Or, Last Year)

We have established that I miss being in school. I have finally figured out that it's mainly because I can no longer nap at random hours of midday.

Which doesn't really make all that much sense, since I had an internship last year and couldn't really nap midday then, either. But anyway.

But also, it's because my Post-School-Distress-Disorder is like a weird ghost that comes back to haunt me with glimmering memories of things that used to make me go out of my mind with raging stress. Take finals, for example. Why am I jealous of everyone on Facebook updating their statuses with things like "F(...) YEAH I AM DONE" and "SECOND SEMESTER SENIOR, B(...)" and "HOME!!!"? Is it because I miss the sweet, sweet sense of victory that comes after 10+ hours of scribbling essays into Blue Books? Is it because I miss knowing that I'll have an entire month to relax and hang out with my family (when, today, I was worried I actually gave myself more vacation time than my alotted hours)?

No, friends. I think I actually miss studying for exams. I miss waking up with a purpose and snacks, being the first one in the library, distilling weeks of notes into a single page study guide, hanging out with Carly in one of the private study rooms, how nice the Caf and UC workers were when they reminded you to eat protein, the small pride in being able to sit still for 6+ hours each day... glimmering, glorious. But really? I came out of every finals season looking like I had spent the past two weeks living in a crack den.

By the time I graduated, I had this routine down to the point that it was slightly less pathetic than my freshman and sophomore years (when I slipped and fell down the library stairs because I was carrying 25 books and my laptop). So I think I miss it not because I like it, but because my brain reactivated "STUDY MODE" last week and has been in a state of general confusion about why it's not really getting much of a workout.

I remember that Carly's roommate said she used to pretend that she was Hermione and that she actually LIKED studying to make it through the dark days of endless papers and projects... but clearly I must have a little Hermione in me if I spent most of today lamenting the fact I no longer have access to the JSTOR database. Not because I need it to research my next story (though, really, talk about handy), but because I miss randomly cruising it for interesting articles.

People assure me I will overcome PSDD. It certainly helps that I'm not wallowing in unemployment and that I have my very! own! health insurance plan!

And then college will maybe just become that place where I learned a lot and once had to febreeze my roommate while she was sleeping to rid her of Frat Stench...

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