To Be a Bachelor in the Promised Land

I haven’t written in some time, and though my excuses are many, my reasons are few. Now that we have that out of the way, college has been something spectacular. I would say it has been everything I ever hoped it could be, but that would indicate I had any concept of how absolutely crazy life at a university could be, and I’m quickly learning that my scope was pretty narrow going in. It’s sort of similar to the way people in the ’60s thought the turn of the century would bring with it hover-cars and robot-maids (I watched The Jetsons once) but instead we shoot birds at pigs and poorly built structures (poorly structured buildings? I seriously re-wrote this sentence a dozen times and I still hate it) and land remote-controlled science labs on comets — that last one happened in real life. I’m not saying I’ve been flying by the seat of my pants through a world of equal parts debauchery and cold-hard-science, but I could, and it would make for an interesting story.

To be honest, not much about me has changed, and I doubt it ever will. Everyone grows up and gets better at suppressing their urge to act like Huck Finn in public, interests broaden or narrow, but I’m still pretty confused about everything. I had this idea going into college of how wise I would become, how it was this wealth of knowledge just waiting for me to plunder it; and once I got my hands on that knowledge, hot damn look out. This isn’t entirely untrue, but as with anywhere there is as much misinformation as there is information, and I tend to fall in love with all of it regardless. I’m a boy who loves stories, fiction as much as fact, and I’ll weep bitterly on the day that changes.

Anyway, it at least feels good to exercise my fingers again, perhaps I’ll do it more often.

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