November has been a month. It’s been this blur of music and coffee and papers and sleep and no sleep and illness and emotion. But I need to put on the brakes for a second.
Because here’s the thing.
It’s 1:30 a.m. and I have class in six hours. I have a paper due at 5 p.m. tomorrow and a lot of shit I need to do for that to happen.
But I’m blogging. Because I just spent an hour eating an order of breadsticks with friends and what’s an hour more?
I went to a choir concert this afternoon. It was two and a half hours long. I went because a friend asked me to go. Sure. A friend that I’ve known for less than a week invited me to a choir concert, so clearly I went. So I sat in a packed auditorium, surrounded a sound I’m used to producing and I closed my eyes and let goose bumps cover my body and let a sound enter me that I haven’t heard in almost four years. And those were two and a half of the best hours I’ve spent in a long time. They weren’t the most productive, but it was time well spent.
No one ever told me this was OK. No one ever said I was allowed to save a paper for the last minute; to consider not sleeping; to go to Paul Revere’s at midnight on a Sunday. No one told me I was allowed to spend money like I have it. Maybe it’s not OK. And yet?
I’m in college once. I have senior year once. I will not have the luxury actually being able to live with $44 in my bank account, nor will I always have the luxury of frivolously depleting it.
And “you only live once” is not a philosophy I traditionally subscribe to, but here I am, three weeks past one of the hardest things I’ve ever dealt with that would confirm that you do not, in fact, get do-overs.
Here’s to slowing down and enjoying life in all its sleep-deprived, choir-loving, friend-filled, procrastinating madness.