A Reflective Start to the Year

Classes have started in College Station and since arriving in Texas from Orlando I have done my best to avoid anything resembling responsibility or the acknowledgment of its necessary hold on me. I have not written, because doing so signifies the end of each day, breaks up the flow of time, gives it a start and a finish, and I did not want that, and still do not. I have a passive dislike for my cell and Facebook and even email. I was home for a week and change, and it was the best visit home I have had. I think this was for the sole reason that I did now know when I would leave, and had no organized schedule, and was still sufficiently worry-free after seven months of Latin American culture and a Bob Marley fixation that I did not overload myself with things to do or people to say hi to or ridiculous plans. I let the flow simply do so and it let me spend more time with my siblings and parents than it has ever previously allowed. Then the day to leave came, and I left. I loved my time with my family but I can’t say I wasn’t ready to get to College Station, where my crew of old friends and a new apartment awaited me (along with classes chock full of potential lady interests). The only developments of note were a ticket given me by a dandy police officer in Bremond and a subsequent week spent catching up with the inner circle and unhealthy but nonetheless impressive amounts of Wii Golf and Scrubs. We equipped the apartment and classes came as the twilight period before their commencement whispered away without much fuss. I say without much fuss purely in the detached observational sense; we of course gave the mandatory complaints about the end of summer and anyone (particularly of the female persuasion) who happened into our apartment would surely give a great deal of fuss at the decorations with which we have so embellished it.

To some extent I feel that this leg of life hasn’t started yet. I couldn’t tell you why. These last few days have been a pleasing mush of catching up with old friends and syllabi-day classes, and my thoughts have had no centering relationship, no anchor. But I have learned scattered lessons, like learning to be okay with letting a best friend go. Or, learning to accept the fact that though I am doing nothing, accomplishing nothing, crossing nothing off my to-do list, that might not be bad per se, but rather a little piece of the simple life I have previously enjoyed, and believe exists, somewhere deep down.

I talked to a few of my close friends, members of the Crew, and they feel similarly, like this semester in particular just hasn’t had that distinctive cut off, the cut and dry ending of summer and beginning of classes, of college life. My roommates and I have had fun, and I’ve been able to see a lot of old friends, but it’s different this time. After a few days, I’d have to say I start it not somber, not melancholy, but a gray tinge of reflective. There have been a few bright spots; today I got to help a freshman find a library, and we’ve had a few of those Wow, remember when we first… talks. This whole transition thing just means stuff is changing, and I don’t doubt that something great and even profound might await.