I like the clink my new heels make as I speedily walk down the sidewalk, over the brick road roundabout, through the cracked pavement, and up the hill that leads to Jesus (and Bardwell). I feel adult and professional. As adult and professional as a nineteen year old wearing ripped jeans can feel. A tired nineteen year old who never gets enough sleep and is rushing to be on time to her bio lecture because she forgot how long it takes to eat cereal alone.
My heels are new. Because of them, I heard about a job opening, and my mind has already gone to the place where the job is and has been mine for months and I'm asking for a week off to visit my roommate in the summer.
My heels are also "pewter." To me they're a metallic bronzish silver gray. I guess pewter is more concise. And precise.
And now this tired, heeled, nineteen year old Education major is going to buy a quesadilla and triumph over her anxieties of the past week. And then she will use a table saw and not chop off her hand or finger or anything, really. (Even if that just means her prof has to show her time and time again how exactly you cut at a 64ยบ angle.)
I like the way this post is written. A lot a lot.
ReplyDelete