I have been very fortunate as a student here at The College of Idaho to have two majors that I’ve loved in such a way as to make my probable future as a waitress somewhat worth it (I’m kidding Professor Schaper, I know how much you hate the waitress jokes). When I made the choice to major in Literature in English and Theatre, I knew it would likely be challenging, as both degrees rested within the same PEAK category.
The thing about being a senior is that your so busy doing stuff for class, for clubs, for real life, that you don’t really have time to cry as much as you’d like. I mean, that’s a problem I hear people have. Not me, though. I never cry, especially not right now as I write this.
Well, this semester certainly threw me back into the swing of things quickly. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, since it is the spring semester of my senior year, but still. The first week of class, my professors kept saying, “Since you’re not that busy yet…” and I would internally hyperventilate because I was just as busy as I had been in the middle of last semester.
As someone who is always in some degree of panic, I cannot express how much Winter Term means to me. Winter Term is quiet. College, like your Aunt Tammy’s personality, can only be described as much a lot; people are always expecting things from you, there’s shouting, and more often than not you’re crying. Winter Term is a break in the song, the instrumental jazz bridge before the swinging upbeat of the final refrain.
…we’ll conjure for a storm”…of singing! Winter term is often a time of relaxing and low stress – with only one class, you can take it easy. Alas, this was not to be for me this winter term. I am taking 4 classes, with a total of 5 credits. Two of those classes are Chamber Singers and Chorale (the two choirs I’m in), which both rehearse for two hours every day. Then, in the fall, I auditioned for C of I’s opera this year – Dido and Aeneas. I was thrilled to get the part of Second Witch.
It’s a name that brings people to all sorts of memory. From the well-known Ziggy Stardust to the more obscure Thin White Duke, Bowie has always been beyond this fickle Earth in his character and manner. Visionary is a word that is often misused, but Bowie had a vision that he could only express to us, never explain. That said, I am by no means a devout Bowian. His passing has, however, been directly connected to the mood of winter so far.
When I volunteered for the Thespian Freeze Out it was under the sincere impression that I wasn’t going to be going into the dunk tank. There were lots of people volunteering, and way better targets than me. I had no enemies that I knew of, and most of my friends were broke. What did I have to fear?
Chanse Ward and Eric Wakeman apparently, who, in an act of betrayal the likes of which I have never known, conspired against me to place more money in my jar than had any business being there.