“Any man with a microphone
can tell you what he loves the most.”—The White Stripes, “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground”
A sneeze. At first, I compared college to a giant sneeze in my life of normalcy, as if it were a glitch in the seamless perfection of my blissful existence.
A four-year sneeze.
And for the first couple of weeks, it had been. I said goodbye to my friends, who departed for destinations as close as Georgetown, Texas, and as far as California, New York, Minnesota and Harvard (that’s a state, by the way). And sad as I was, I accepted it as the onset of the sneeze that in four years would be remedied by some sort of graduation/real world antihistamine.
But soon, I felt completely congested. The lack of constant comfort and familiarity spun me into emotional overdrive, to the point where I would forgo seeing the greatness that is Austin and its population in favor of sitting in my room and watching Dr. Phil. It was empty nest syndrome combined with friend-sickness (not-home homesickness), and it kept me from being open to meeting the phenomenal people I was constantly surrounded by. See, I understood that the “bonding with other people” part of college lay in commiserating with people who knew exactly how it felt to be me at that moment in time…but I continued to edge to the center of my comfort zone rather than stretch its boundaries.
So now I’ve decided to stop being a schmuck.
I’ve realized that I’ve known and loved all these people not to be weak without them, but instead to have drawn strength from having known them at all. And this strength is one of the many things we can share with each other. I am a person of intense insecurity and flaws too numerous to count; despite that, people have been kind and welcoming to me, and the times I have made myself vulnerable have given me only positive results.
In the end, I guess I’m out to prove that if I can do this, anyone can. Even the meekest, most un-extraordinary of Joe Schmoe-ettes can find a home among giants. Instead of looking at this as if it were an inconvenient interruption to my ideal life, it is time for me to realize that it is exactly what will lead me to everything I’ve always wanted. Optimistic? Perhaps. Regardless…
It’s time to let go.
Random Moment of Goodness
Andi, our damsel in distress, finds herself awash at the sight of ants in her dorm room. Desperate, she files an online maintenance request (sends out the bat signal, if you will). Within minutes, mighty figures in Housing and Food Department polo shirts descend, and with one valiant spray, the evil pests are vanquished. Andi searches for words to thank her rescuers, but they depart with the swiftness they had come.
Superheroes do exist.