And here we are again

So, once again, it's summertime and I am playing Little Red Riding Hood as the heat sets in and the drudgery of classes dissipates. There's something very exhausting about the dichotomy of summer. It's considered (for students) to be a vacation, but it's expected that we do something with that time. It's a chance to explore opportunities that aren't possible during the academic year, but it's depressing if none of those opportunities come to fruition. As eager as I was for the summer break to begin, now that it's here, I can hear the time bomb ticking; waiting to drop another great big shell of FAIL on my life. This is the way it's been for me. Will it change this time around?

The last time I had a major change in status quo, it was my job at Fund for the Public Interest, and my high hopes were dashed less than a week later. This time around, I have a more promising position, one I won't lose based on other people's personal prejudices and one that I'm not likely to lose due to poor performance. I'll be doing something I enjoy, so there won't be the dread of calling strangers that came with Vector or the resentment over how much effort I'm putting into it. Although I hesitate to jump for joy at the implication of progress, I do find comfort in at least saying that I'm not in the same place that I was last year.

This will be my first summer in Tallahassee and, consequently, my first summer on my own. I sincerely thank God that I won't be doomed to rotting at home under the confines of geography and lack of transportation at the same time that i wonder what I will do when I have options. I can take the bus; call a friend; walk a bit depending on the heat. I can do free things like go to the park and enjoy a good book or some things that cost like see a play or take a dance class. I'm actually dealing with advantages rather than compensating for disadvantages and it makes me feel excited (well, excited and scared). What will I do with myself? I know where I would like to come into the fall semester, but I know how to get there about as well as I know how to get from Covington to Tallahassee: the route is only familiar when I've gotten into it. I have to ask myself if I'm going to end up trying to figure out again where it all went wrong.
I'll have the answer in about ten weeks.