October 2006

I have become completely consumed by cerebral speculation, which has left me slightly overwhelmed by work, worries of graduation (or lack there of), as well as left me stranded betwixt the hours of 2am and 6am struggling to complete things I may have overlooked during hours of daylight. Considering all of these things, my months of "seniorism" have yet to be dull, and October is no exception.

Candidly, I have lost the ability to separate myself from my regimented lifestyle. Not to say I lack spontaneity, but I have dedicated myself to a loose structural system that leaves me constantly exhausted and moderately inebriated. For better or worse. There are 168 hours in any given week and I squeeze approximately 200 hours worth of activity into it. "Oh Eavvon, you are clearly over exaggerating". Perhaps, but it feels like the attempt is being made.

October began much like other months, on the first, and then crescendoed into the 31^st with deliberate force. During that time I had the usual bouts with exams, papers, and radio stationing, while still dedicating my time to weekly Taco Tuesdays, and weekend debauchery. Nothing excessively decadent, but a release of some sort from the perils of student life.

While traipsing through my sweet October, I made an attempt to try not to let my work completely consume me, which has resulted in the feeling that November may be worse than October. Outside of my academic arena, social life is remaining constant, yet consciously separate from scholastic endeavors. These two realms then met on the last full week of my month.

On the second to last Monday of my last full week of my last collegiate October (hopefully), I abandoned my aforementioned responsibility, and literally threw caution to the wind as I prepared myself for an adventure to St. Louis, Missouri. The official purpose of this trip was to help build the media organizations of West Chester University and bolster the staffs' knowledge of the industry. My intentions laid elsewhere. Yes, learning is good, but to be in the home of the St. Lunatics, I felt obligated to act in kind, and proceeded to "make it do, what it do, in tha Lou". Unfortunately, a portion of my travel companions objected to jovial merrymaking, and instead insisted on expressing complaints to past time.

Although the constant pejorative slinging of my counterparts was a downer, I did find other like minded individuals with whom to pass the time. While walking the streets, I became increasingly more aware of how slow and empty the mid-west is. Devoid of any real nightlife, outside of the provided chaos of the World Series, St. Louis has the structure of a major city with a lack of the culture that I have become so spoiled with here on the east coast.

Needless to say, I was more than ready to return to my beloved right coast, and by the time we arrived at the airport, my yearning for home was becoming more and more apparent. My month’s worth of stress was not relieved at all, and mayhaps was amplified by the trip, and then compressed to fit the area of a small plane cabin. But then, once we were sailing somewhere between heaven, hell, and New Jersey, we flew aimlessly into a huge cluster of cirrus and nimbus clouds (Please refer to your middle school science books or http://www.almanac.com/outdoors/clouds.php). These clouds stretched far beyond the horizon, and resembled small fires that could have potentially been started on the floors of countless homes of delinquent children. These miniature conflagrations grew quickly, but then morphed into large snow forts with buttresses and intricate architectural structure unique to each mound. These forts continued to grow until they enveloped the plane itself.

Inside the plane, I experience a surreal calm, slightly offset by turbulence, that made my monthly stresses evaporate quicker that the water from within the actual cloud. And although I knew that the moment I touched down, reality would be brought back with all of gravity’s calculated force, but I was ok with that. I was temporarily suspended by irresponsibility and upward trust, and that made everything a little easier to deal with.

As I look back on my month, I hold no qualms with those things that pushed me toward the precipice of sanity. Nor do I conjoin my internalized angst with the other negative memories of the past thirty days. In fact, I will most likely remember very few events that transpired during those days. Shit happens. But, far above the world, I did learn to appreciate the fact that “plant earth is blue, and there’s nothing I can do.” I only hope I don’t have to take a flight to bumblefuck to every time I lose sight of that.