One day, you will live on your own.

Oh yes, 'tis indeed that time of year wherein teenagers across this fair earth lament their sorry situation as second-semester seniors (or the international equivalent). Both members of the Squad find themselves in this quandary, though it's safe to say that one (S, being the more responsible of the two) is handling it far better than the other (Z, who secretly wants to move to New York City and live as one of CFTPA's Young Shields).

And here in the real world where we speak with more practical diction, this time of year fucking blows. In a matter of months we'll know where we'll presumably spend the next four years of our lives, and yet (a) we as of yet don't know precisely where this mystery location is, and (b) our teachers continue as if this were not the case. I for one am finding progressively less motivation to bother with practically anything, opting instead to fantasize about the exceptional lineup of shows coming down the proverbial pipe. I mean honestly, what sane person would focus on calculating momentum when said person could instead imagine the sheer adrenaline that accompanies a Jus†ice show? Seeing as I am said person, and I am (arguably) sane, I am indeed focusing on the latter item, though it represents a short, distant event rather than something immediate. Then again, physics homework is complete drivel no matter how immediate, so I generally see no reward in persistence regardless of what other fantastic distractions there are to be had.

And writing this blog post? Why, this is what I'm doing instead of composing an essay on Death of A Salesman! In all seriousness, that overly adjective-laden previous paragraph is nothing more than evidence of my current state of mind: distracted, prone to tangents, and living mainly in anticipation of events that, while scheduled to occur, may in fact not take place. In "Soft & Warm," Voxtrot lament the agonizingly slow passage of time: "God shake the sickness, won't this decade ever end? It's been going on for years, been happening for years." While I can't manipulate that into a clever form applicable to my specific situation, I can say that I have similar sentiments: the closer I get to the end of school, the slower time passes and the farther away that end seems. It's going to kill me, but I am gonna make it through this year. In theory, at least. Fingers crossed-in case we die.

Awaiting silent Tristero's empire,
Zoe

Side note: today I discovered that the boy I admire from afar not only likes the Mountain Goats (possibly the biggest plus ever) but also raises goats. Double goats=double awesome? Let's hope so.