It entered my mind today that the first time I visited what would become my undergraduate institution of choice (default) was in the 8th grade. I was there for the teen arts festival. I was on the writing committee for the spring musical. I wrote some terrible terrible scenes that got in, almost verbatim. (for those who know what I’m referring to, the “Sherry Swinger Show” scene was probably the start of my I-think-I’m-funny psychosis)
I remember a few things from that day:
A) I attempted to take a dance class somewhere on campus but ended up fleeing after the instructor asked everyone to shake…something. The details are fuzzy.
B) There was a condom dispenser in the Student Center. I told everyone. No one was nearly as impressed.
C) It was raining all day. And all I could think was, “This place looks sooooo miserable.”
Five years later and the condoms were gone, the dance studio was eliminated, and, well…I do recall saying something like “this is where dreams come to die” on more than one occasion.
But I do miss it.