Remember that summer jam from what, early 2000? Here, let me refresh your memory.
It's okay. I had completely forgotten about it until it popped on the radio while I was out driving, doing my thang, yo. (Okay, okay. I'll lay off the thug style. But I just couldn't help it. Too tempting).
They don't call them oldies but goodies for nothing. I am proud to say, I turned up the volume and started busting moves in my seat - as well as a safe and responsible driver can - right there in the middle of traffic.
Yeah, people gave me looks. But you know what? I didn't care! I was having fun! A whole host of summer memories came back to me, and that's when it happened.
The Epiphany. (Cue in chorus of Angels.)
(Fine. A choir of adolescent British boys will do. I guess...)
Anyway. I realized that I am wasting my time. I am so busy trying to get Jackson's attention, trying to make something out of this, that I am losing the whole point of summer. And I am a teacher for crying out loud! I should know this.
The summer is not for playing by the rules. The summer is about taking a vacation. I need a vacation from myself. Staid, play-by-the rules Elsie will be back in September folks. Gettin' jiggy with it Elise is here to play! (Well, maybe not gettin' jiggy. That phrase kind of freaks me out).
But I will wear a bikini and not want to gouge my eyes out! I will stay out past 12:00 on a Friday night, and go dancing with my girls! I will meet lots of guys - tons of guys - and enjoy basking in their admiration! (Or at least dance with a few guys and not obsess over his feelings towards me). Yeah, reasonable, baby-step goals are good.
And who knows? Maybe I'll be wild and crazy enough to hit the Jersey Shore. You never know. A Guido or two, or a hundred, just might be the distraction I need.
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