A feel good memoir
By: Riley Kross
Issue date: 3/27/09 Section: Opinions
This past week I got pretty annoyed with the little lie Furman believes or at least abides by regarding spring break. The Monday after, you walk into each class and each professor says "hope your break went well" while giving that sly little grin of get ready here comes the work. The whole time, I was thinking 'Break? Really?' I had to write two papers over the "break." I know other people that had tests, lab reports due, and presentations on Monday. A break? Not exactly. And then I got pretty annoyed because a paper, on which I thought I was going to have a week to do the research for, got moved to an earlier due date, leaving me with only two days to do the research. Hope spring break was great. Welcome back.
But let's not forget everything else going on. I still have three other classes. I still have extracurricular commitments. I still have to make a little money by writing articles like this. I still have friends to spend time with. I still have personal thoughts and issues I need to work through. School can slap hard. Life can slap hard. And I still have to find time to complain about it all.
Then the other night, around 12 p.m., I went to Waffle House in Traveler's Rest. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing for which I really didn't have the moment to spare. However, one of my roommates was hungry, so two of my good friends and I tagged along. We walked in to Waffle House and guess who was there - the infamous Dr. Shi. Yes, Dr. Shi was in Waffle House after midnight. Apparently, he had just gotten done swing dancing. He still knew each of us by name from when we met him at White Oaks freshmen year. He asked us about our spring breaks and wanted to hear stories. He was lively, joking around and talking to us about things on campus. It was great.
Soon after talking to Dr. Shi, I found myself sitting in a booth with three of my good friends, but we were all looking back at Dr. Shi in his booth. Everyone was laughing because we thought it would be funny to have our waitress take Dr. Shi a glass of water and say it was from our table. It was funny. Dr. Shi laughed and waved us a thank you across the diner. Then I turned back around in my seat and saw the faces of my three friends - big grins and sleepy eyes. And everything paused like a still frame. I felt like I was in a sitcom. And a quick thought flashed through my consciousness like a voiceover, like a brief enlightenment or epiphany. It was so cliché it hurt a little bit. This is college. These are the memories I will always have.
But sometimes a cliché, though painfully cliché, is exactly what we need in order to remember what is really going on. Sometimes we need a feel good story like "Slumdog Millionaire" in a time of economic turmoil even though it's not your typical Best Picture type of film. Because so often we forget what college is all about when it slaps us. I think it's the same with life. We need those feel good memoirs. Sometimes you need to laugh late at night with good people, and you need to joke with your university's president, and you need to eat a waffle covered in a little bit too much syrup. Sometimes you just need to bite in to that overindulged cliché. This is college. Welcome back.
But let's not forget everything else going on. I still have three other classes. I still have extracurricular commitments. I still have to make a little money by writing articles like this. I still have friends to spend time with. I still have personal thoughts and issues I need to work through. School can slap hard. Life can slap hard. And I still have to find time to complain about it all.
Then the other night, around 12 p.m., I went to Waffle House in Traveler's Rest. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing for which I really didn't have the moment to spare. However, one of my roommates was hungry, so two of my good friends and I tagged along. We walked in to Waffle House and guess who was there - the infamous Dr. Shi. Yes, Dr. Shi was in Waffle House after midnight. Apparently, he had just gotten done swing dancing. He still knew each of us by name from when we met him at White Oaks freshmen year. He asked us about our spring breaks and wanted to hear stories. He was lively, joking around and talking to us about things on campus. It was great.
Soon after talking to Dr. Shi, I found myself sitting in a booth with three of my good friends, but we were all looking back at Dr. Shi in his booth. Everyone was laughing because we thought it would be funny to have our waitress take Dr. Shi a glass of water and say it was from our table. It was funny. Dr. Shi laughed and waved us a thank you across the diner. Then I turned back around in my seat and saw the faces of my three friends - big grins and sleepy eyes. And everything paused like a still frame. I felt like I was in a sitcom. And a quick thought flashed through my consciousness like a voiceover, like a brief enlightenment or epiphany. It was so cliché it hurt a little bit. This is college. These are the memories I will always have.
But sometimes a cliché, though painfully cliché, is exactly what we need in order to remember what is really going on. Sometimes we need a feel good story like "Slumdog Millionaire" in a time of economic turmoil even though it's not your typical Best Picture type of film. Because so often we forget what college is all about when it slaps us. I think it's the same with life. We need those feel good memoirs. Sometimes you need to laugh late at night with good people, and you need to joke with your university's president, and you need to eat a waffle covered in a little bit too much syrup. Sometimes you just need to bite in to that overindulged cliché. This is college. Welcome back.