May 17, 2004

Good-byes

I still hear trains at night, when the wind is right, I
Remember everything, lick and thread this string
That will never mend you or tailor more
Than a memory of a kitchen floor, or the fire-door
That we kept propping open
And I love this place; the enormous sky
And the faces, hands that I'm haunted by
So why can't I forgive these buildings
These frameworks labeled Home
-The Weakerthans

I didn't think I'd make friends at Marlboro. It's hard for me, caught in that vicious cycle of not talking to people I don't trust, and not trusting people I don't know, and not knowing people I don't talk to. I went almost a whole year without interacting with anyone at Marlboro on a personal level. And I hated it.

People sometimes ask me why I came back after my first term, if I hated being here so much, and I don't really have an answer. Maybe I didn't want to disappoint the people who believed I could make it out here; maybe I didn't know where else to go; maybe it was, as I oftentimes think, just a big mistake. I certainly wasn't happy about the beginning of my second term:

I have to go in and register tomorrow. (First, though, I have to get out a map of the campus and find out where I'm supposed to go.) I usually like new beginnings, particularly the start of a new term: new classes, new professors, new things to learn; they usually outweigh the anxiety I feel about new places and new people.

Things are different this term. For the first time I can remember, I'm not excited about starting anew. I don't know if it's just depression, or if it's apathy, or if I have just gotten tired of walking the same old streets for so long. I slept nearly the whole day-- this, after sleeping for twelve hours last night. I'm worn out, and I need a break. Not from school, or work, or "this;" I need a break from me.

It turned out to be a really shitty term. I hated most of my classes-- especially the ones that left me crying. I hated the walk up the hill to the library. I hated having to go to the dining hall to have meetings with my professors over lunch. I hated it all.

I love my computer
You make me feel alright
Every waking hour
and every lonely night
-Bad Religion

I found things to love, though: books that weren't assigned, 130 hours of the West Wing... the Internet. I've always loved the Internet, of course. I remember those late nights in middle and high school, getting lost in the wealth of information available to me over that boxy 9600 modem with the string of Christmas-colored lights. I remember the shiny new 33.6 modem that slide into the empty PCI slot and let me load pages like there was no tomorrow. I remember my first cable modem, bright and white, and how I thought I didn't need anything else in the world.

I've read blogs all along-- even before they were called blogs. Something about the humanness of the interaction, being able to read into someone's life, learn about someone's personality, has always attracted me. How people shroud emotion and learning and life in words and metaphors and glimpses of silent moments. How there's never enough, and always too much. How they make me laugh, and cry, and fall in love. How I meet people who turn out to be closer than the solitary digital connection might suggest.

Random comments about auditory crack, Christmas presents from far away, cookies and chocolates and feelings that come, and go, and come again. Connect the dots, fill in the blanks, fast forward.

The sound of packing tape being pulled off the roll, the heavy lifting of boxes and junk down stairways and dusty roads, the good-bye hugs that never last as long as you want or hope or need them to last, the tears that are hidden until the words form themselves here.

The downside to making new friends is, of course, the good-byes. Good-byes to the people, good-byes to the buildings, good-byes to the life that coalesced while I wasn't watching. There's still one more good-bye, too-- one that I'm not ready for, and probably won't be when the time comes. I'm sad to leave Vermont this summer.

I'm excited, for sure, to see Oregon again. To visit LB, and eat brunch at the Interzone, and live in the same city as my best friend. To see the mountains, and the ocean, and all the places I miss. To just be there, again. And I'm sure it will be nice.

But I'll miss this place. I'll miss home.

Posted by Sean at May 17, 2004 11:57 AM

Comments

Posted by: Jennifer at May 22, 2004 02:56 PM

Posted by: Jay at May 22, 2004 06:19 PM

Posted by: Jennifer at May 22, 2004 08:13 PM

Posted by: Sean at May 23, 2004 01:00 PM

Posted by: Jennifer at May 23, 2004 04:25 PM