August 24, 2011 was the first unofficial day of being a college student. Suddenly dropping into a place I was only partly familiar with, seeing approximately 900 new faces and speculating as to which to wave back to with my awkward, wilting shake. For a few days, we could choose to have a name tag around us, a handicap for those of us incapable of saying, "Hi, what's your name?", or not wear a name tag and say nothing, if anything. Later that night, as we amassed in groups at Case Western's football field, we learned a few things about the Class of 2015, such as how more desirable certain people were than most of us, how many people were from Ohio. Despite the exciting activities the Orientation leaders "put us through" that night, most of us were skeptical about the "college" experience, including yours truly. The next few posts, coming every Friday at 9pm, is but one person's perspective on a universal escapade that we're privileged to be a part of, but one that continuously challenges that privilege. Day 1...
August 30, 2011...
“College is going to be terrible” is a quote I continue to repeat. After seeing how much the university is offering in terms of support, such as first-year advisers and counseling, it’s baffling how in just three days, I still have little faith. It was a problem I knew I was going to be facing just as I was about to graduate from high school and it really doesn’t surprise me that the problem has popped up so suddenly. It’s only been three days and I have a tendency to be really impatient when it comes to making endurable connections with people. I think a worse fear than thinking college will be terrible is letting myself believe that. When I get into a depressing funk, only the most optimistic self-realization can pull me out of it. That or Seinfeld bloopers. Course, there’s also the fears of college being much more difficult than previous years of education, but that’s to be expected. As I’ve been working out my schedule, I can see the amount of time I could be spending studying for each class, which is a major advantage, compared to the claustrophobic hours in high school. There’s also the new responsibilities regarding money and food, things we students didn’t take very seriously before. Thankfully, the meal plan ensures a full belly without the costs. Later on, we’ll have to start thinking about going out to dinner, tickets for events, and other important utilities, but if we think about it conservatively, it won’t be a damning problem. My personal fear is laundry, the first responsible assignment I’ve been given as an adult. Unless you’ve done laundry in the past, the only thing you’re sure about is that you will have to wear that pink shirt for the rest of the semester...not that there’s anything wrong with that. Overall, I know that college will be amazing, and when my mind believes it, it will be.
Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts
Friday, February 3, 2012
Thursday, October 20, 2011
The Twentisecond One
Citrus Providers
When life gives you lemons, do the obvious. When life gives you grapefruit, throw it back since you don’t like it. Sometimes, the grapefruit has rotted beyond repair, and catching it means getting the rotten, sticky pulp all over your hands. You go to the bathroom to get the pulp off but the unbearable stench remains, so you douse yourself with many different perfumes and finally, the awful stench disappears. You’ve had the stench for almost 2 weeks, and very little people have decided to stick around and suffer through the stench with you. But those are the good guys, the defiant ones; they’re the ones who’ll stick around longer than the terrible smell. You can never predict the whereabouts of the grapefruit; some of them appear out of nowhere and hit your chest incredibly hard, others are coughed up and spit out (luckily, they’re not rotten), and others have just fallen from the sky, splattered all over the floor. You recognize that these aren’t your grapefruit and take a moment to wonder if you should care about the floor grapefruit. Your first instinct is to clean it up, and throw it in the dumpster or in some kind of compost heap. Once you’ve done that, you can’t help but wonder about the other grapefruit that makes up the compost heap. You realize that people might’ve been hit by the exact same grapefruit, but it’s such an embarrassing thing to happen to a person, getting hit by grapefruit, that it doesn’t surprise you that no one else ever talks about it. In fact, upon realizing the amount of grapefruit in the compost heap, you get sick of saying the word grapefruit and resort to calling it “Citrus provider”, but oranges and tangerines are also “citrus providers” so now you’ve blurred your understanding of the term. You start having dreams of “citrus providers” raining from the sky. Upon seeing the rest of the world take advantage of the “citrus providers”, from practical juice-making means to ridiculous robot making means, you start attacking everybody and stealing their “citrus providers”. In the dream, you create an enormous basket and with your imaginary strength, you succeed in taking away everybody’s “citrus providers” and decide to jump into the basket and dwell within the pulps and juices of the “citrus providers”. You have the time of your life within the basket until others realize the existence of the basket breaks various zoning laws and have the basket destroyed by missile fire (since it’s a dream, you know). No one considers the explosion causes all of the “citrus providers” to pour out of the basket at once and engulf everyone in sight. You’re the lucky one, however, and are the only one alive after the missile fiasco, but you look around and clearly see how everyone perished, by the means of your precious “citrus providers”. The thought makes you insane and you wake up, before any further damage is caused. At this point, waking up in a moistened bed, you think about all of the grapefruits of the world and wonder why the grapefruits come and go that easily. It’s been two weeks since your last grapefruit hit you, but you start yearning for the grapefruit, praying and making ridiculous ceremonies to bring it back. One summer afternoon, the clouds are the same purple-orange that led to the “citrus provider” storm, and you smile and wait patiently, only to be disappointed by the rain, saddened by the reaction from others, and furious from being tricked by Mother Nature again. You go into a crazed madness that leads you to a farmer’s market, still open at Midnight, apparently, and smash up every “citrus provider” you can see. Lo and behold, the cops have arrived, forgotten their training, and hurl a grapefruit right at your face. The grapefruit smashes and opens up immediately, covering your whole face like a ski mask. You’re sitting in the back of the cop cruiser, having refused to remove the grapefruit from your face. The cops think you’re the most ridiculous lunatic they’ve ever had to arrest, but you’re not listening. You have your grapefruit back and that’s all that matters. After a while, the grapefruit slowly slides off of your face, and lands onto your handcuffed arms. It’s not the same grapefruit you remember, just a convincing impostor. Your eyes, filled with grapefruit pulp and tears, burn savagely, and your body crumbles. Your time in jail is thankfully a quick one, as it’s your first offense. As you sit in jail with the grapefruit mask next to you, you consider the grapefruits in the compost heap again. You look at the grapefruit mask again.
When life gives you lemons, do the obvious. When life gives you grapefruit, throw it back since you don’t like it. Sometimes, the grapefruit has rotted beyond repair, and catching it means getting the rotten, sticky pulp all over your hands. You go to the bathroom to get the pulp off but the unbearable stench remains, so you douse yourself with many different perfumes and finally, the awful stench disappears. You’ve had the stench for almost 2 weeks, and very little people have decided to stick around and suffer through the stench with you. But those are the good guys, the defiant ones; they’re the ones who’ll stick around longer than the terrible smell. You can never predict the whereabouts of the grapefruit; some of them appear out of nowhere and hit your chest incredibly hard, others are coughed up and spit out (luckily, they’re not rotten), and others have just fallen from the sky, splattered all over the floor. You recognize that these aren’t your grapefruit and take a moment to wonder if you should care about the floor grapefruit. Your first instinct is to clean it up, and throw it in the dumpster or in some kind of compost heap. Once you’ve done that, you can’t help but wonder about the other grapefruit that makes up the compost heap. You realize that people might’ve been hit by the exact same grapefruit, but it’s such an embarrassing thing to happen to a person, getting hit by grapefruit, that it doesn’t surprise you that no one else ever talks about it. In fact, upon realizing the amount of grapefruit in the compost heap, you get sick of saying the word grapefruit and resort to calling it “Citrus provider”, but oranges and tangerines are also “citrus providers” so now you’ve blurred your understanding of the term. You start having dreams of “citrus providers” raining from the sky. Upon seeing the rest of the world take advantage of the “citrus providers”, from practical juice-making means to ridiculous robot making means, you start attacking everybody and stealing their “citrus providers”. In the dream, you create an enormous basket and with your imaginary strength, you succeed in taking away everybody’s “citrus providers” and decide to jump into the basket and dwell within the pulps and juices of the “citrus providers”. You have the time of your life within the basket until others realize the existence of the basket breaks various zoning laws and have the basket destroyed by missile fire (since it’s a dream, you know). No one considers the explosion causes all of the “citrus providers” to pour out of the basket at once and engulf everyone in sight. You’re the lucky one, however, and are the only one alive after the missile fiasco, but you look around and clearly see how everyone perished, by the means of your precious “citrus providers”. The thought makes you insane and you wake up, before any further damage is caused. At this point, waking up in a moistened bed, you think about all of the grapefruits of the world and wonder why the grapefruits come and go that easily. It’s been two weeks since your last grapefruit hit you, but you start yearning for the grapefruit, praying and making ridiculous ceremonies to bring it back. One summer afternoon, the clouds are the same purple-orange that led to the “citrus provider” storm, and you smile and wait patiently, only to be disappointed by the rain, saddened by the reaction from others, and furious from being tricked by Mother Nature again. You go into a crazed madness that leads you to a farmer’s market, still open at Midnight, apparently, and smash up every “citrus provider” you can see. Lo and behold, the cops have arrived, forgotten their training, and hurl a grapefruit right at your face. The grapefruit smashes and opens up immediately, covering your whole face like a ski mask. You’re sitting in the back of the cop cruiser, having refused to remove the grapefruit from your face. The cops think you’re the most ridiculous lunatic they’ve ever had to arrest, but you’re not listening. You have your grapefruit back and that’s all that matters. After a while, the grapefruit slowly slides off of your face, and lands onto your handcuffed arms. It’s not the same grapefruit you remember, just a convincing impostor. Your eyes, filled with grapefruit pulp and tears, burn savagely, and your body crumbles. Your time in jail is thankfully a quick one, as it’s your first offense. As you sit in jail with the grapefruit mask next to you, you consider the grapefruits in the compost heap again. You look at the grapefruit mask again.
Some grapefruits are the lucky ones.
-To my sister.
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