The Lie of "Spring Break"

I'm sure if I was younger, living off my parents' money and waking up from a hangover on South Padre Island, I wouldn't be writing the same things. But I'm not, so bear with me for being a little bitter.

I really can't complain too much, I'm getting work out of the way at the beginning of the week and I don't have to feel guilty for falling asleep during class. But I have to work on a case study (15 pages) for class (I wish I only had tests, I HATE homework), and I do have to go to work, though I do have the weekend off.

I suppose my bitterness is fueled by sleep deprived depression, which is helped a bit by trazadone (my favorite side-affect is a priapism, ask and I'll tell you), my beautiful sleep drug. I'm lucky to have a wife who loves me, and gives me permission to have fun and take time for myself.

I know that might sound odd, that she "gives me permission" but it is vital to my psyche. I sometimes feel crushed by expectation and thoughts of the future, to the point that I let it drag me down into inaction, so I need her to tell me it's OK to chill. Again, inaction sounds odd for when getting out there and doing something would make all the difference, but that's just the way I am, so deal with it.

Anyways, even though I will be unable to really enjoy the first half of the week, I plan on doing the most I can to make the second half of the week to feel like a real break. With any luck I'll be able to get a little fishing in with Paul (Emily's friend Melody's husband, and my constant source of temptation to play World of Warcraft) and play soccer on Saturday with church guys, which would be awesome.

Anyways, I suppose that Spring Break isn't so much the lie my bitter side would like it to be.