The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Several years ago, I remember watching an ad on TV showing an energetic parent dancing down the aisles of Office Depot to the Christmas tune, "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." Two sulking kids, around 10 years old or so, followed in their father's wake, heads low and faces drawn into deep frowns. I used to feel this way. It usually happened around the end of July. The beginning of August was the unofficial month to mark every office and school supply 20-30% off. Suddenly, swimsuits, shorts, and beach bags were sent to the back clearence racks and sweaters, jeans, and turtle necks were in the forefront of every display. Buying new school clothes was an amazing deception. One could buy an entire wardrobe of woolen, long-sleeved items in the midst of an air-conditioned store, believeing they could be worn the next day while the highs were still in the 90's.

But, to be honest to myself, I was one of those kids that dreaded the beginning of school. Not because I was opposed to new clothes, shoes or pencils... but I hated change. I hated going to a new classroom with different kids and decorated walls and I felt homesick. The beginning of Junior High was the most appalling change I ever endured in my education. Short, chubby, and terrified, I was shoved up and down the hallway, knowing how powerless I really had become upon turning 12.

College was probably the easiest and most welcomed change. It was like High School except, one could choose to go to class or not and no parent was required to give written consent. The first day I sluffed Beginning Badmitton to study for my history test, I could barely sit still. I felt like I had broken some unforgivable rule. When I dropped the class out of convience, no one argued with me. I was paying for school and I owned my decisions.



Going to college became so comfortable, I took my time. In fact, not only did I not want to leave, but the music department seemed to do whatever they could to prevent me from graduating. I am happy to say I am a college graduate, English major, music minor and all. But, I can't say I feel too fulfilled. Why is that when I walk into a Target or Smith's Market Place and see walls of school supplies on sale, a lump catches in my throat and I suddenly feel so sad? Many would say I am a masochist. I would have to disagree. I loved school. I loved my major. It was like one big book club. We all read the same books and shared everything with each other. The only formal part was putting it all in writing, which was something I rather liked since I needed the practice. However, no matter what I say here, nothing captures how I felt except something my professor said to my class.

By the end of my education, I was left with one class to take the fall of 2005. One literature class... Russian literature to be exact. It turned out to be one of my favorites. One day, my professor reminded those of us who were graduating that semester to get our proper papers in on time. Then he sighed and said "those of you who are graduating will have a hard time. You will have an identity crisis and begin to doubt who you really are." He smiled afterwards as we laughed at him. Something on his lips told me he was telling the truth. I swallowed hard. I couldn't think about that. I had spent so much time trying to organize myself and I was already graduating about 2 years after I should of. I needed to focus forward. But, I can't begin to tell you how true his words were. It all comes back to fear of change.

I had spent most of my life being a student. I never took a break. I knew if I stopped school I wouldn't go back. So, I kept going. It wasn't hard when I majored in what I loved most. Reading, writing, and singing everyday was far from a punishment. I kept going and then, one day it ended. I kept my part time job after my lofty plans of grad school fell through. Then I tried to take another job with full time benefits and it was horrible. I wasn't happy. So, I took a different full time job that was easy and relaxed and that is where I have been eversince. Floating. Comfy in my cubicle, looking all around me, but never straight ahead. I didn't want to see.

Now the sweaters are emerging again and I am feeling a need to buy pencils and paper. It is time for the rest of the world to return to school. I am feeling like it is time to make a change. Time to take a journey. September was also the time Bilbo and Frodo left on their journey. in Tolkien's "The Fellowhip of the Ring." Frodo doesn't want to leave. He knows he needs to leave the Shire, but he is scared. I want to go back to school, grad school. I don't want to return to school because I am homesick. It is that I figured out what will make me happy and now, it is up to me to make that change.

I am scared. I hate rejection and I hate not knowing anything for sure. I really hate change... feeling like that chubby 7th grader again, being pushed around the halls by people who know what they are doing. I know all too well the power fear has to paralize and leave us with the worst punishment of all... regret.

Ray Bradbury wrote a book called "Something Wicked This Way Comes." It is all about the Autumn People who are drawn to those who live in misery. They feed off of the regret and pain of others. The end of the book is all about lifting yourself from the chains of pain and regret. Courage comes from action. "The witness only comes after the trial of your faith."

So, now at work, in my comfy cubicle... I quiz myself with words from the GRE like "abscond" and "alacrity." I revise poems and read novels and write stuff like this to remind myself no one ever got anywhere who stayed in their living room, watching out the window.