The Curse of the Green Grass

Whenever I'm at school, worn thin by the demands of unreasonable classes which imposition such silly requirements as showing up, doing homework, and even participating in class discussions, I find myself extolling with my peers the virtues of just "sitting on your ass" and "doing jack-shit." In fact, I yearn with strong earnest for that day of the last deadline to pass, so that I may immediately commence with such underappreciated and neglected "sitting on my ass" activities, like checking my Gmail every three minutes, revisiting the same websites I know will not be updated again for at least another twenty-four hours, changing my AIM away message, organizing my iTunes library, or simply zoning out to Microsoft's eternally trippy "Starfield" screen saver while listening to the appropriate space-rock stylings of Pink Floyd, perhaps for the length of an entire album.

This gets old after about a day, at which point I begin to wish I was back in school again. This phenomenon is what I now term the cheery appellation of the Curse of the Green Grass. This expression is categorically derived from the adage, "The grass is always greener on the other side," and it is an affliction marked by its ingracious regard for the benefits of "the moment," and over-hyping of the former, now "contra-state" of affairs. I've been diligently performing all the "sitting on my ass" activities for weeks now, and all I want to do is go back to school -- I fail to appreciate the virtues of my current situation I had previously dreamed of with the hope of a soon-to-be-liberated P.O.W. In fact, I yearn for another tour of duty, back in the trenches where the action is, while I feel my brain slowly melt and dribble out my ear in this warped world of domesticity. I suppose the choice comes down to this: to have my brains blown out in a grand explosion, or to have them rot slowly from the inside and leak silently away? Indeed, school or home?