There are lots of things I love about October. The blustery weather, the changing colors of the leaves, pumpkin flavored everything at Trader Joes, and not being able to change the channel without seeing buckets of fake blood spilling out over a new B list Hollywood actress.
One of the many perks of being a writer is that you are forced to do things you would never in a million years want to do. While that sounds bad, it isn’t. I mean it in the best way possible. Let me spin ye a story, traveler.
The scene: Friday of midterms. The air is thick with the scent of stale sadness and coffee. No birds are in the sky, no children play on the streets.
The protagonist: Me, a plucky young ne’er-do-well with a heart of gold, face down on the floor, broken yet alive.
When one spends their time primarily glued to The College of Idaho campus there is no greater treat than a visit to Boise. This is no insult to our home, for I do find myself lost in buildings and courses for hours on end, with a mind hungry for the atmosphere and a soul cozy in benches far and wide. I cannot, however, deny that Boise is a cultural explosion of experimentation that is bubbling more and more every day. I have been in the valley for about half of my life now and every year throws the horseshoe of creative freedom forward further.
The professors at the C of I are some of my favorite people ever. They are smart, witty and downright hilarious. Welcome to Quotes from Professors, Round 3! What kinds of things to professors talk about in class?
They comment on their colleagues:
“Loners, but well-behaved…that describes about ¾ of the teachers on this campus.” – Dayley
“For some reason, Hunter teaches all political philosophy revolves around prostitutes, I don’t know why.” – LiCalzi
As a senior, I’ve adopted the habit of giving out unwanted advice. Like your grandfather at family events, minus the inability to grasp basic technology. And my advice has more to do with college and less to do with The War. The problem, as my mom and her church group sees it, is that my advice is not exactly “good”. It’s more what you’d call “misguided” and “no thanks”.
Homecoming is a very strange time rife with the realizations of mortality smeared into your brain with a dash of melancholy. Alumni wander more frequently, from all ages and classes. Their eyes hold flashbacks to days long and short ago with a freshness that expresses itself in smiling mouths or stoic gazes. There is no greater way to see the strange oddity that is The College of Idaho and, really, anywhere on the planet than to witness paths and stories coalescing on familiar landmarks ranging from Berger’s Bench to the Kirkpatrick block of McCain.
It’s so weird being a senior. I mean, I know I’m a senior, but it hasn’t fully sunk in yet. People keep telling me “You’re graduating this year? That’s so exciting!” and I’m like “Actually it’s terrifying, because I have no idea what I’m doing.” My roommate and I have determined that the s-word (senior) is officially banned from our apartment because we are in denial about the fact that it actually applies to us.