OK, I’ll admit it. I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been wandering the campus, kicking piles of leaves and brooding. Not to mention indulging in the traditional end-of-term rituals — big gatherings at restaurants with pushed-together tables, and cookies and soda in creative-writing class, along with the festive announcement that the teacher’s husband won a big Hopwood award. The heat of last weekend has abated for more seasonal temperatures, but I’m back on the bike again, which always gives me an excuse to stick around; the last mile is all uphill, and I look for every excuse to avoid it. But! Quadriceps! They’re emerging from the winter fat again, so it must be true: The world is coming to life again.
Yes, but it’s dying, too. Today’s was the last Daily of the term, or close. The graduation issue was steeped in nostalgia, prepping the kids for the most important emotion of the rest of their lives. I’m trying to stave it off; the most valuable piece of information I got in the last week was news my fave history prof will be teaching a summer-term class starting the first week in May, which I’ll be able to attend at least a little of — War in the Modern World. I won’t be a Fellow past Thursday, but I figure no one will care if I slip in the back of the lecture hall for a few weeks. I suspect lots of people do this, and as long as they don’t turn in blue books or ask lots of questions, it’s probably possible to get a fairly good seat-of-the-pants education this way.
Someone could make a movie about this. Oh, I forgot: Someone did. A lousy one.
ashley said on April 21, 2004 at 12:34 am
Back in the old days, before dormitories became as secure as Trump’s private hair shellac station, you could enter lobbies freely to pick up your date, watch TV, or eat old Domino’s crusts.
I used this to my advantage.
In 1985, after my startup company went belly up, I traveled across the country, sleeping either with friends or in dorm lobbies.
I’d go into a dorm lobby with a calculus book and a pillow, and crash out on a couch. Nobody, anywhere, EVER said a word. Ever. On more than one occasion, a security guy would come up to me, and I’d feign studying the calculus book, and he’d instantly turn away.
Occasionally, you could get a shower, too. I’d bring in my tiny toiletries bag, and somebody would let me into the main corridor. Then, saunter down to the community shower, do my bidness, and leave refreshed, without having spent a penny.
Now, everybody seems to think that dorms are the next target of either Osama or the second coming of Ted Bundy. My guess is that nobody can do this anymore.
Also, now most dorms have either individual or shared suite bathrooms. Damn soft kids today.