This semester, I am taking a course called “Campus Environments.” Designed to help us examine college campuses more closely, the course began with a simple journal writing activity: Write about your first time stepping onto your undergraduate campus. What did you notice? What was that experience? Thinking back to Ball State, I opened the journal and stepped into a memory.
Author: Michael King
Writer. Chases joy. Working to share the mess and the magic.
in comes the snow.
It happened like this: Break came to a close. I moved through my house, scooping my things from their random whereabouts: iPhone charger by the kitchen table, Wii U in the basement, best hoodie in the laundry room. Skated out to my car, loaded everything up. Took a victory lap or two of the house. Said goodbye for a bit. Slow-going, snowy drive under a dark sky. Pulled back into Charleston, parked my car with flashers in the Lawson drive so as to unload, then stopped by McDonald’s for a Diet Coke before settling back in. Netflix, laundry, sentimental apartment times. Bed.
winter broken.
If I were to boil my fall semester down to a single word, that word would be “rigorous.” The opening of a residence hall, the building of that community, the formation of individual hall staff members into a group. 120 hours of internship. A thesis to hit the ground running on. A group of talented and ambitious student leaders to support and challenge. It was a beautiful blur, yes, and it left me feeling exhausted. Wiped. When I arrived home at Mom and Dad’s for winter break, I needed to simply pause for a bit.
It’s been about three weeks, somehow. As I sit at this computer, I face the familiar feeling of wonder. How is it possible that I am about to embark on another semester-long journey? Thanks to this winter break, however, I know that I am ready.
the “find-your-voice” year | shrinking 2013.
The purpose of this blog is to look forward, but it’s not in my character to do so without looking back. A lot can happen within the time frame of a year. There are victories and setbacks, significant moments and fuzzy stretches, wild adventures and small joys. The idea of reducing a year into a single, digestible entity is most likely implausible. But, were I to do so, were I to shrink 2013 into a chunk of significance, I think I’d call it my “find-your-voice” year.
Continue reading “the “find-your-voice” year | shrinking 2013.”
time to begin.
It’s time to begin, isn’t it? — Imagine Dragons
Here we are again. The obligatory first blog entry. The prologue of a digital journey. The one I’ll travel back to in three or four years and cringe a bit at. These kinds of things don’t come with an instruction manual. Maybe that’s wrong. I won’t read an instruction manual for these kinds of things.
