
Well, as today warms up to a balmy 56 degrees (literally three times warmer than it was a couple of weeks ago) and God starts using Head & Shoulders so that we don't get 8 inches of dandruff every damned morning, I start to think towards summer. I remember back in elementary and middle school, whenever we were apparently feeling especially masochistic, we'd play Marco Polo. For those of you who don't know the game, I'm jealous (and also unsure if you had a childhood or access to a pool). Basically you pick the kid in your group that you all secretly hate the most would be "it." You'd all be in the pool, and then that poor, unfortunate soul would close his eyes and call out "Marco" and everyone else would yell out "Polo" and the sucker would try to find and tag another player, who would then be it. This would last about two rounds until everyone started cheating and stopped playing, someone swims into a wall (eyes closed + swimming = idiot), or the lifeguard whistles that it's adult swim (thank God).
Life can be like that (without the giving up part, of course). It can be an incredibly frustrating journey in which we try to find out what the hell we're supposed to be doing with ourselves while awkwardly trying to find the best match for us academically, socially, professionally, and romantically. Life is a game that is frustrating as hell when we're not winning but indescribably rewarding when we finally do.
Life can be like that (without the giving up part, of course). It can be an incredibly frustrating journey in which we try to find out what the hell we're supposed to be doing with ourselves while awkwardly trying to find the best match for us academically, socially, professionally, and romantically. Life is a game that is frustrating as hell when we're not winning but indescribably rewarding when we finally do.