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Thursday, October 19
Remember back to the first day of kindergarten, when your mom lead a frightened five-year-old you into the room, assuring you that "mommy will come back." And you believed her. And accordingly, she came back. You learned that, as much as you loved your mother and father and brother and pet salamander, you didn't mind going to kindergarten, even if it was only for half a day.
In fact, you enjoyed kindergarten. Sometimes you enjoyed it so much that, like-oh-my-god, you didn't want to go home.
As startled as I am to say it, I have that same feeling
here. I don't have this burning desire to return home. I am
not homesick. Does this mean that I never loved my family
and that I'm a callous, heartless girl? Of course! In all
seriousness, I suppose I've been preparing to go off on my
own - whether it be college, joining the circus, or fighting
consumerism as an anarchist since that first day of kindergarten.
As I was telling my roommate, I suppose I had my first bout
of homesick for the full two (miserable) weeks of violin camp
after the summer of seventh grade. I recall writing postcards
with ink smeared with tears to my mother at least every other
day, as phone calls were not allowed to help all campers enjoy
the "full camp experience." But surely, I progressed onward,
like developing children do. The summer before my junior year
I spent seven weeks conducting research in Michigan, and this
past summer I lived in Chicago for three weeks while taking
classes with an art scholarship. And so on. And so forth.
La-dee-da. And look at me now, mom, I'm away at college! And
I don't miss you!
In reality, I'm actually not some unfeeling robot (despite previous misconceptions), but an experienced human being who has adapted well to life at Macalester and away from home. But like I said, I'm no machine, and I miss my mom's cookies and sometimes my mom herself. But it's never like violin camp again. I'm ready to be at college, yada yada, and so it's working like clockwork. And look at the time. I cannot believe I've been here for nearly two months... and likewise, at least once a week, "I cannot believe it's 3am!" Time is certainly skewed. Maybe it's that I'm so busy, or that I'm enjoying myself, or perhaps generally that something is always happening:
Last Thursday evening our first-year chemistry class (Discovery
and Development of Drugs - aptly referred to as simply "Drugs")
ate dinner with our professor and two alumni at their house,
which proved enlightening, entertaining, and delicious. And
then in my other chemistry class (Advanced General Chemistry),
I'm in love with our new textbook, "Introduction
to Molecular Thermodynamics," and how lecture and
lab fit in seamlessly. My roommate and I bought a pumpkin
and corresponding carving knife today, hoping to roast the
pumpkin seeds and carve our precious squash. And just last
week two of our fellow roommates in "Drugs" had to cope with
their beta-fish committing suicide. We attended the funeral.
So with so much to think about, and so much to do, it's
no wonder such happenings provoke distorted time. Although
I enjoyed my family visiting this past weekend for the appropriately-named
"Family Fest," I feel fine with them gone. Yup, like that
day in kindergarten, I don't have that burning desire to return
home. I suppose I am looking somewhat forward to Thanksgiving,
but I don't feel like leaving for it now. Not only is Thanksgiving
in November, so it wouldn't make sense for me to go home in
October, but I'm not a fan of monochromatic and mushy Thanksgiving
food.
posted by Laurel
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