Tales of a Senior: Takin’ a Chill Pill

My mom always told me that when things get rough, sometimes you have to “just be.” I never understood that, really; I’d just nod and agree and then go back to freaking out over whatever I was doing right beforehand. But you know, the more stuff you have to do, the more you realize that yeah, you do have to just be. Calm down. Chillax.

After a week filled with tests, papers, about five gallons of coffee, and way too much spiked apple cider (Quickie Recipe: Apple cider + apple brandy, varying the amount of brandy for the amount of drunk, is f*ckin’ delish), a few of my friends and I decided to be a bunch of kids. We hunted down a corn maze and got utterly lost in it, went to a pumpkin patch, and picked apples.

We didn’t do anything particularly stupid or sophomoric — unless you count getting in a fight with a 10-year-old over the existence of infinity. No, we just had fun. Fall is my favorite season, and I hadn’t properly enjoyed it in years ’til last weekend. The only thing missing was a hay ride…

This week was/is slightly worse, with a ten-page-paper that was due yesterday (that still isn’t done, shhh) and a psychology test tomorrow I haven’t really studied for. But this weekend, after dealing with trying to write a paper for an outrageously vague professor (who I think really only teaches because he a) likes to hear his voice b) likes to make students feel stupid) and studying for a test in a class I sometimes think I’d enjoy more if it weren’t for the tests, we’re doin’ it again. No, not the corn maze and pumpkin bit. But hey. Come on, you guys. You honestly mean to tell me that you wouldn’t go to FrightFest if given the chance?

I’ve also done yoga twice this week. I have yet to work up the balls (probably because they’re still ovaries) to actually go to the yoga class my school offers, since I’m not sure how I feel showing up in an old band t-shirt and a pair of $5 Target sweatpants when everyone else is wearing stuff that I feel like they could go out on a date in. I know you’ve probably heard all of your gym-buddies say it, but yoga really DOES get those happy-endorphins flowing. I found a nifty little 15-minute routine that I’ve been going by, and while I’m not saying that I suddenly have the ability to breeze though War and Peace in about three hours, I do feel…well, lighter. And that’s a hell of a change from last week.

So. Moral of these past two weeks’ story?

Calm the hell down.