I like to think that I don’t feel stress, but my dreams indicate otherwise. I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking that large objects were falling on me. I kept flinching every time I got into a happy little sleepy place. And then, slowly and from directly above, there was another car coming to crush my bones and leave me a pulp on the bed below. My sister looked this up on the internets and found out that I am supposedly under stress. I don’t believe in letting things stress me out, but maybe I am. I have become good at ignoring emotions and feelings.
So, after not sleeping well, I woke up early to take my final final. Said final was in my sport and event marketing class and I wasn’t too concerned. I could’ve probably passed this test with a vehicle on my torso. I parked my car in the usual Monday, Wednesday, and Friday spot and began walking to class. I walked by the new nursing building and around the corner I found myself looking at the Brophy building where my final was and down the walkway at the Murphy Center – the building that housed much of my trip through Viterbo classrooms.
I remember my first class with Leanne Carlson. It was a hot day; trying not to stand out too much, I was dressed pretty casual. I remember sitting in the back corner by the window. Leanne started the class by having all of us ask her a question about her – so we could get to know our new teacher. I didn’t know anyone in class and was an elderly stranger in this foreign land. At this point I really had no idea what I was doing at Viterbo. It just sounded like a good idea, I guess. Anyway, Leanne was asked what book she would bring with her if she could select one to tote with on a desert island. She answered that she would bring a collection of Emerson’s work. I thought about how that would suck because he is so wordy; there is nothing succinct about American Lit circa 1840. This I knew from my readings the night before.
I had been preparing myself in my own way for college by going to the library and reading books I didn’t understand. I read a book of William Blakes poems because a singer (M. Ward) mentioned him in one his songs – “death is just a door, Blake said it first.” At the advice of my 16 year old friend, Alex, I also picked up a collection of essays from Emerson. Upon hearing Leanne say that she loved Emerson, I felt as though we could really connect. So, I said the following – “You know what I’ve found about Emerson, he rarely gets a point across in less than a page. I mean, my friends little brother loves the guy, but I just don’t get why he has to say so much to say so little.” That is not the way to be cool on your first day of school. I walked out of the Murphy building and a buddy of mine was standing there talking to a kid from that class. Dude from class said – “Way to sound like an idiot up there.” I did sound like an idiot. Later in class, I tried to make amends for my stupidity by asking Leanne a really great question. I believe that came out as… “what’s your favorite kind of ice cream?” I’m pretty sure I wanted to quit school and hitch hike to Paraguay.
After the first day or two I called my friend Kelly in Portland. I told her that school sucked and that I didn’t make any friends yet. This drove me nuts and I was frustrated – I always make friends, what is wrong with me?? I didn’t say much in class and tried to make pals at the Mathy Center (where I worked for a little while). But, I didn’t have a lot in common with the couple of people I worked with. I was upset; I was questioning a question that I was already questioning.
My friend Barry called me one day as I was walking to another class and reminded me that I was located in the middle of the greatest place on earth – a college campus. I agreed with him, sort of, but didn’t fully believe him. I still felt like an elderly stranger – like Billy Joel in at a dance party.
I can’t recall the moment that I really felt at home at Viterbo, but there was a definite transition. I know that it didn’t take me long to find my groove in making friends and connections. Leanne had a lot to do with that. Pat and Paul helped me out tremendously giving me the opportunity to write this blog. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like I got lucky meeting one person and all of the sudden three good things would happen. I would make one friend and instantly I was friends with 20 people. I guess I just got over myself and started thinking about how I could be the nicest dude that other people would ever meet. And I suppose it helped that I found people who recognized my sense of humor and laughed with/at me from time to time. It’s definitely the people, not the brick buildings that make Viterbo great.
I’ll never understand people who don’t have fun at college. I’ll never understand people who are chomping at the bit to get out – as if college is their problem or their prison. College waits for those eager to take advantage of it; it waits for kids to enter through its gates and suck it dry. It’s a place that is begging at every turn to be abused. And that’s how students should treat it. Like a rented mule or a great wave off the coast of Hawaii. Ride it for all its worth because the mule won’t last for ever and eventually that wave will drop you off at the shore.
I don’t know if I’ll write on this blog anymore. For those of you who have read my posts, thanks. It’s cool to think that I can extend my thoughts to any person who might care to read them is pretty humbling to me. Anyway, if I don’t document graduation, and even if I do, these are some words that I would like to leave with…
“I shall pass this way but once; any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.” – Stephen Grellet
