I'm currently listening to: "The People You Know" by Robyn Ragland
It's a blessing and a curse. I don't strain my shoulders like I used to when I had my messenger bag, and I think I'm getting visible biceps for carrying the damn thing up and down stairs. You see, it's a rolling bookbag... but let's start at the beginning.
I don't have a driver's license. A friend of mine actually pointed out that I wasted the wish by not asking for the innate ability to drive. Don't get me wrong, I have a permit- it's just a matter of getting my dad to take me out driving- but, to be honest- I'm scared. I guess it comes down to facing my fears.
Why am I scared? Because I crashed not too long ago... on my second lesson. So, yeah, I have a small right to be scared. But because I'm not driving, I have to take other transportation.
So, how do I get to school? The bus. The best thing about the bus is also the worst. It takes f o r e v e r to get to school. At the same time, I can sketch, read, or drink a cup of hot chocolate while waiting for my connection. I can watch the sun glimmer through the trees. I can smell the crisp air. On the bus itself, I can listen to the banter between two passengers, or three, or listen to music.
And so, since I can't leave my four books in the car that I don't have, I require a rolling bookbag. It's not an awful thing, really. Not particularly. Sure, corners are generally tough to get around, but I can deal. I have to.
That's an effect of personal strength. Right? Of course, it appears that whining is too.
But this morning, I just realized how much I'm going to miss the clouds at six a.m., watching my blue shadow striding across the cold pavement when I get my license. When I start driving, will I miss out on the aerobic exercise from walking half an hour each way? Yeah. But will it be worth it to stave off colds? I don't know if I'll be able to by snow season, anyway. But I can try.