equal parts wishful optimism and foggy remembrance

i remember quite intricately the feeling that i get upon coming home after the end of the fall semester. the first thing that happens is that you get used to staying out till 5am every night because you're over in your friend's basement playing video games all night. then eventually you go home and sleep till 3, at which point you wake up and realize that it will only be daylight for approximately 2 more hours before the december darkness, with its constant reminder of its inherent unnaturalness, creeps back over you again, at which point you start the cycle all over again. its a wonderful time; a responsibility-free rebellion against the past three months of being locked into the ever-greuling cycle of the intellectual life, and a desperate attempt to soak up each and every moment before the cycle begins once again. i remember losing track of the days, each one bled into the next, nothing to differentiate the weekend from the weekdays.

and now i think about it here, at thanksgiving, as the semester is almost over, but not quite, as if its leaving me one last oppotunity to make a significant mark upon what will be most remembered from fall 2009, and i come again to the realization of how much i want to share the carefree and completely childish experience of running around this town that is my home with someone else. it would just be you and me, and we might not get the phone call till 11 oclock at night, but when we did, we'd head on over to greg's house, and the three or four or five of us would watch a movie, and maybe id fall asleep, or maybe you would, but we'd have a hell of a time. the next night we'd do it all over again, except we'd call him or her too cause they're back and we haven't seen them since september and hey they're good people and we want them around us. i'd want you to experience how exhiliarating this life is; the magic that comes from having so many anxious youths back in their proper context. and you would jump right in and say "YEA!," and then we'd drive off into the timeless night and suddenly remember how to forget who we are.