Spring semester was ending, but spring felt like it would never come.
We chimed around town looking for an internet cafe that was still open and would let a couple of ragamuffin Americans in who looked like they would push over anybody who got in their way. Registration day is love and war - but mostly war.
We nestled into the warmth of a hundreds-year-old building, crowded together in a mostly-empty room. We waited. We prayed to the internet gods. We prayed to the One True God. We held our breath as we clicked "enroll" as if we were enrolling into the rest of our lives.
Three of us.
"Yes! Done!"
"Oh! Yes! Wait... No... Crap."
"Oh no! Dangit!"
I have mixed emotions about registering for classes.
I love the excitement about a new teachers, new friends, new books, and a new pace of life.
I hate the anxiety of being thrown outside of the rhythm I have established.
I love dreaming about the future and ticking off requirements.
I hate the uncertainty and knowing my time here is almost done, only to be thrown into a world that I do not understand.
But mostly, I hate not having control.
I hate not knowing if I will get what I need. I hate being at the mercy of something or Someone that I cannot control.
It's better this way.
If I made schedules, we'd all be getting up at 10am to study cookie recipes, traveling plans, and small furry animals - only to expect a high-paying degree in Social Work. (Only part of that statement is a problem.) Y'all, I can't be in charge.
Rhythms have to change.
To remind us who is in charge.
To remind us what little control we have.
To show us new things, new ideas, and new people.
To keep us on our toes and far away from the most dangerous pace of all: contentment.
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