Reminiscing

I would not say that I am a fantastic student. I am simply an attentive one. But students of life tend to have good fortune. I have been not writing of personal stories or experiences on this blog much lately but as a student of life I feel compelled to tell a story of a memory.

I did not intend to go to the college I am at now. The fall of my senior year my mother became upset that I had yet to decide on which college I wanted to attend. She did not seem to understand that my peers and I were not particularly ready for this choice. We had been taught how to get in to college but were given no clues as to where. I settled on University of Idaho, a college which in retrospect would have been equally as good for me as the one I at now. But perhaps, and what if I had been equally displeased with where I was. Perhaps, I would have been overwhelmed by a campus so large and a student body so broad. Having known no different worked in my favor. But I will say this, nothing gave me the creativity that living here did.

As fall term progressed I kept off the weight I would have normally gained eating from the cafeteria by walking with my best friend. I did all the things normal dorm rats do. I watched Sponge Bob, ate cornflakes every day, wore my pjs, and stayed up late doing nothing. Occasionally I studied, but not much and neither did my friends. We would call our parents once a week but most times we zoned out or played Rock Band.

It was glorious this freedom we had attained. After fall term we felt cocky and satisfied. We had survived our first term of college! As I returned to the dorms the night before the winter term started I found myself with a map. We were planning spring break in January, three months ahead of time. We would go to Canada of course, because none of us were 21, and so we knew that by taking a venture to the grand Canadian frontier we could legally acquire the forbidden (albeit plentiful) drink.

What resulted after was a wanderlust that planted itself so firmly within our bones that we could not shake it and then it was suggested: we should go to the coast. With a three day weekend close at hand we sprang into action. We found a car, booked the hotel, mapped the route and stayed up late planning.

This event marks a huge turning point for me in my life. I suddenly felt like I was in control, not my parents, my teachers or anyone else who had forced me to do what I had not wanted all my life. None of us had responsibilities beyond school. And so we set off five of us in a truck, with a few backpacks, a guitar, a map, and some of the "forbidden substance".

The specific events of the adventure are to a point meaningless. They are full of a simple innocence and irresponsibility. They are of ocean, and sea air, late nights and lazy days. Of ice cream for breakfast followed by fish and chips and later by munchies to counteract the affects of young intolerance.

I fell in love with what I could do that weekend. I felt unstoppable and inspired. It awakened some stirring effect and every February since it haunts me still. The fact that the feelings that I came across that weekend, the freedom, the nirvana as one of my freinds said, has yet to be conjured in my life again makes me sad.

What have I done with my life since then? Chopped it into small bits and let it go? Left everything that does not further me? Lost a part of myself? This I am uncertain of.

Those on that trip? We have gone separate ways. Some of us live in other countries and some live here but have not been heard from in months. And maybe they look back on that weekend with the same fondness that I do, but maybe not. I do not think it matters. The lesson here is that what we have is fleeting and sudden. It may never be seen or heard of again. However, it cannot and should not be lost. The traces of it should always be dredged, if not unexpectedly, as a reminder of what we have had.