Things are always crazy at the start of the school year; there’s the new workload that makes us wish we were still vacationing in Europe, juggling a part-time job with couch time watching the Olympics or taking care not to know exactly what day of the week it is or make too many marks in our planners.
Only two weeks in and I already dread the biting cold of that trickster the air conditioner that is constantly trying to convince me that I live in a white box void of seasons. (It won’t work; every chance I get I find a bench or table outside so I can experience the fleeting summer days).
Personally, I don’t know what kind of ambitious trip I was on when I planned this class schedule of mine in May. It must have been something – I wish it would show itself now. I could use something to get through these reading lists.
It is a suffocating feeling when you have to consult your calendar to find out when you can pencil in lunch with a friend, a conversation with your mom or sleep, which is never overrated.
When I am actually at home with the “Age of Innocence” tucked up under my nose so that I might finish it by class the next day the animal population of the house seems bent on denying me the end of the story: Will Newland end up with May or Countess Olenska? Can the old and new money families ever come together to further extort the lower classes?
I woke up the other morning to the pleasant sound of one of my cats projecting his breakfast onto the new bathmat. My dog’s eager sniffs at a corner in the den told me the same culprit was also busy “marking his territory” the night before.
If any of you live with a male cat you know that cat spray is one of the worst smells. It is second only to an overnight train I was on in Italy this summer. Luckily men don’t make a habit of claiming parts of the house in this way. Then again, they find other ways of trying to claim ownership.
Sophie, my Rottweiler, chose that particularly messy morning to have a little indigestion. Make that three piles of indigestion. She gave me the honor of picking it up when I arrived home later that day and discovered the gifts. Now I’m out of paper towels and I still need to buy some more ba king soda to get rid of that smell.
My furry friends have made it up to me though, alternately sleeping under my desk to keep me company while I plow through my homework.
And now that I think about it, the work won’t be that bad this semester. Already I have had some very interesting class meetings.
It never ceases to amaze me how my classes flow together each semester. I am even able to apply stories about historical Lordsburg College and ULV’s origins in my honors senior seminar to my magazine class and pitching story ideas.
How is it that disciplines coincide so nicely yet our workload does not relect this overlap in material?
It is a good thing I got to use this space to whine incessantly so next time I can get down to business and write about issues of significantly more importance.
How refreshing fall is with its ability to jolt us back into routine but always with a promise of newness and possibility. I think I like it so much I’ll stick around for next fall.
Bailey Porter, a senior journalism major, is editorial director of the Campus Times. She can be reached by e-mail at porterb@ulv.edu.
