Summer Break

Ever wondered what the word “Break” meant? By the definition provided by the English language, it’s a span of time when you have no pressure of work or school. No parents hovering, no teacher detaining you for cutting class. It’s just all about you and how you want to spend the only most thrilling 6 weeks of your life where you can design and create your own heaven.
I knew exactly what I want to do this summer. Go to Goa where I can actually relax on a beach without being too hawked and watched and having about a ton of conservative opinions thrown at my face by the “elders”. Relax on a beach chair under a wide yellow umbrella, listen to the waves with a fruit punch in m hand and watch the sunset. Then go over to LA to get some more beach fun and fly down to Manhattan and get myself some awesome designer wear like in Gossip Girl and 90210. And probably think about my next trip to probably somewhere in France or Venice or something. That’s my dream of a perfect summer.
Unfortunately, some dreams are just meant to remain unrealistic hallucinations; like summer break. 6 hours before breaking the good news of holiday fun, teachers start breaking some bad news about what to do DURING the holidays. So I was dumped with about 25 worksheets of Math, 2 English assignments, a 4000 word essay on a Portuguese India, another essay on how truth rules our lives, some phony business assignment and of course some français to do. So instead of having some fun on the beach I’m going to be stuck at home consulting the ghost of Newton and asking him what he was thinking while inventing calculus; converting a disgusting Greek mother-rapist skank’s life history into an English autobiography; cursing the Portuguese for having come all the way to Goa when they could have actually just could have stayed home and celebrated Vasco-da-Gama’s Day or something and thus, having saved me the trouble of doing research on own my fellow countrymen eventually just drove them away so technically it was a shameful thing for the Portuguese too; then I have to understand the whole cosmic meaning of truth and how it dominates and eventually crushes down my world; collect some stupid business advisors’ advice; and of course express my gratitude to my French professor who just made life so much worse by handing over a task of comprehending about 8 lives of some nasty French maniacs and then essaying how I spent my “Summer Break”, little does she know that she’s going to have some very unrealistic ideas from my side. And then to give myself a “break” of about an hour or two, I’ll be catching up with the latest episodes of GG and 90210, which by the way are also approaching their respective season finales. Wonderful! This is the most ideal summer break anyone could possibly ever have.
That’s my side of cribbing about it. Your most welcome to share your summerside story too.
(P.S. Don't answer that last bit, unless of course your summer turned out to be phonier than mine)