(Actually now with PhD, but Doctor of Philosophy just doesn't have the same evil ring, does it?)
[I've started using a PDA again to eke out a few posts while on the bus from time to time, as that's my "me" time.]
I've started walking to (and sometimes from) work in addition to busing it. It takes about 25 minutes if I walk really fast. The experience reminds me that a lot of the meat of my life has occurred while walking: the observation, the nature, the emotional processing. I've missed it more than I realized.
The first blooms here were the magnolias near the Counseling Center, and as they faded the cherry blossoms and then lilacs exploded all over campus. That explosion was at its height around Mother's Day. Except for a few late-blooming shaded lilacs, those are now gone, succeeded by the sweet trailing black locust blooms and cottonwood fluffs. The combination of blooms, scent and fluffs drifting on the breeze gives campus a "Legend" meets Maxwell Parrish feel.
It's weird thinking that this will be my last spring in this town. It's the first place I lived after leaving home. I've lived here (or within an hour or two's drive) for the past 21 years. I didn't even mean to do that: I wanted to actually seek out a place to live instead of "ending up" somewhere. Well, I've finally done it; finally planned a place to be. But I'm sentimental, and any "the last ever" is melancholy.
The familiar smells this spring bring back my early twenties. All the freedom, all the angst. All the cruddy jobs just to pay rent. All the skinniness! At this distance even the depression seems romantic in memory. But I sure am glad to be older.
I've started walking to (and sometimes from) work in addition to busing it. It takes about 25 minutes if I walk really fast. The experience reminds me that a lot of the meat of my life has occurred while walking: the observation, the nature, the emotional processing. I've missed it more than I realized.
The first blooms here were the magnolias near the Counseling Center, and as they faded the cherry blossoms and then lilacs exploded all over campus. That explosion was at its height around Mother's Day. Except for a few late-blooming shaded lilacs, those are now gone, succeeded by the sweet trailing black locust blooms and cottonwood fluffs. The combination of blooms, scent and fluffs drifting on the breeze gives campus a "Legend" meets Maxwell Parrish feel.
It's weird thinking that this will be my last spring in this town. It's the first place I lived after leaving home. I've lived here (or within an hour or two's drive) for the past 21 years. I didn't even mean to do that: I wanted to actually seek out a place to live instead of "ending up" somewhere. Well, I've finally done it; finally planned a place to be. But I'm sentimental, and any "the last ever" is melancholy.
The familiar smells this spring bring back my early twenties. All the freedom, all the angst. All the cruddy jobs just to pay rent. All the skinniness! At this distance even the depression seems romantic in memory. But I sure am glad to be older.
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