I did not know that there were two air and space museums in Washington D.C. until my second time visiting. The first and most popular museum is right on the National Mall near the Capitol. The National Mall is the symbolic center of Washington D.C.
I was coloring a cartoon turkey in a color book app on my phone when I told my mom I couldn’t come home for Thanksgiving. This was the fourth year in a row, and the brightly colored feathers on my little gobble friend were the only thing distracting me from breaking down and crying.
I miss my family. I miss the house I grew up in and the sun-filled California sky. I miss my mom’s cooking and my dad’s jokes. I miss talking with my sister and hanging out with my brother. I miss my four dogs--even when every piece of clothing I owned had hair on it.
Halfway through the fall semester of my senior year, I realize that I have spent an entire three years in college already. I appreciate that I am now interning in Washington D.C.; that I have traveled to New Orleans, Portland, California, and Indonesia for school or extracurricular student activities in that time; and that I've had the opportunity to DJ and chair committees for school. When touring The College of Idaho during the spring semester of my last year of high school, I asked professor Jasper LiCalzi what was the most challenging aspect of attending of the C of I.
One afternoon last week, I decided to tackle some homework. I made my way to the upstairs of KAIC and bunkered down for a few hours or so. In midst of balancing chemical equations I was suddenly hit in the face with a flying object. The pain inflicted on my forehead was by...a Reese's peanut butter cup? I was irritated. I was confused. I was…hungry? I glanced around and my eyes fell on a woman who I had never seen before.
I’ve never reached enlightenment. At least, I’m not sure I have. One time, I realized the machine that returns bowling balls blows air so you can dry the sweat off your hands, giving you a better grip when you roll that gutter ball. But, when I went to share this finding, everyone seemed to already know.
Looking back, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t even close to being an enlightened moment. Like I said, I’ve never reached it.
Warning: I am attempting to write in a spooky fashion. It will either be incredibly frightening--in which case, keep the lights on--or just another thing you read while waiting for another page to load. Like Netflix or something. Either way, thanks for reading.
In the spirit of Halloween, I would like to tell you about some spirits (it is okay if you were not prepared for that joke. It’s kind of a work in progress). Gather round your computer screen, unknown reader, because I’ve got some scary ghost stories.
Imagine this: It’s a Friday afternoon. Soft gray clouds are calmly floating along, taking a brief intermission between answering rain dances. You’re a fledgling workaholic, trying to stay afloat in a semester of chasing transient moments of serenity that sleep between deadlines, and you’re feeling that you need another fix; that the weekend is coming a bit too soon.
Last spring, one of my good friends who was once a political economy major told me that Washington D.C. is the equivalent of Hollywood for people in our area of study. I imagine that in similar ways to Hollywood, D.C. is mostly a mythology. There are many ways that Washington D.C. is different from how I expected it to be, despite the time I've spent studying about the area.
Depending on when this is published, it is almost that time of year again. It’s time to consume a staggering amount of caffeine, sleep a clinically indefensible amount, and test the bounds of your immune system as a thick, sweaty wave of stress and despair floods over the campus.
I entered college with a couple goals. Amongst them was gaining a mentor. Many of my first classes consisted of silent judgement toward professors, deciding whether or not they were mentor material. One fated day, I made my decision in the form of a classy journalist: Alan Minskoff.