Butterflies

image from here

For the first time ever, the beginning of September has no meaning, since I’m not headed back to school. I’ve got the degree that I’ve been working towards since grade 6, and my life should be on its way. At least in theory. In reality, I’m still going to sleep every night and waking up ever morning thinking about all the things that I should be doing before September arrives. Things like making a list of textbooks, printing my course outlines, scoping out classrooms, planning a first day first class outfit, and buying blank notebooks and pens (Bic medium stic round) to fill them with.

But I don’t have to actually do any of that, even though the butterflies in my stomach beg to differ.

My theory is that brians react to muscle memory the same way that the rest of the body does. By repeating actions your body will react in a predictable way, and grow accustomed to said action. So 19 years of spending every August with mixed emotions of excitement and anxiety becomes a hard habit to break, and Schrodinger’s butterflies start their antics again.  

Of course, my life will change again in September – either with a return to my dustbowl of a hometown or a journey to somewhere new for a job – and slowly but surely my excitement is changing from school-anticipation to unknown-anticipation. I may seem to protest change on the outside, but inside my butterflies are thrilled. They know that change brings planning, and researching, and novelties, all things which give me an adrenaline rush to start my neurotic-planner brain going.

So while I may be sad that I don’t get to do any of my typical back to school activities I am comforted by the fact that I get to plan a whole new adventure: one where there are two paths, but both journies are totally unknown. And that’s just what living life means.