peeled

First day back at school.

I remember dreading the day. Summer officially over. Teachers, desks.

Other kids.

It was never easy stepping down from that little yellow bus and walking through those tiny doors that seemed so huge. I guess when you're only 3 feet tall, huge is a word that descibes many things.

I feel momentarily naked and unprepared now, without new shoes, a barely recognisable ET lunchbox and a pencil case full of eye-gougingly sharp HBs. Instead I walk into an auditorium that smells of recently washed carpet and fresh paint. It's been over three years since I've been in a classroom. I'll admit I'm a bit nervous, carrying only a small notebook and the mostly-dead ballpoint pen I won't get rid of for sentimental reasons.
I get attached to my tools like that. Funny how people rarely stick, but the tools always feel right in my hands.

I always prefered auditorium lectures. I feel more at ease, sitting back in what turns out to be quite a comfortable seat. I feel immediately like I might be there for a movie, or to see Karen the giraffe-necked girl and the amazing flying Vanzetti Brothers. My anxiety is decreasing.

In fact, when the little guy behind the podium starts to talk, I almost hear an audible click. This feels good.
Ahh, University. What a wonderful little bubble you are. It's the kind of class that would drive a lot of people nuts: Art theory; all ism's and name dropping. This one's full of flakey goodness, too. I love this stuff.

It's nice to be back.