One month and seven days…
And it’s all over.
Category: life
It’s April.
You know what that means, don’t you? The school year is drawing to a close. The first school year. I am as yet faced with the prospect of Northwestern, a prospect which has been looming in my reluctance to enjoy or appreciate U of I for a good majority of this year. Yet the closer it grows, the less certain I become that NU is perfect for me – or, at least, more so than UIUC.
For one, the school itself really is nice. The more I let myself, the more I notice what an ideal college atmosphere Urbana-Champaign has. It’s funny, I think, how much control your mind has over you; how little you notice this control. I wonder now if UIUC was unappealing because I refused to accept anything less than NU, or if it really…was. What I do know, however, is that there’s a certain spirit, a certain devotion, a certain love for the school which makes the campus comes alive.
And then there are the people. There are the people here, the people that have contributed to the memory of that first unforgettable year in college; a memory which would be irrevocably altered without their presence. They are people I am eternally grateful for, and people who indeed make me grateful for U of I. There are as well the people that are coming, some that I’ve been friends with for ages now, and some that owe me food credits I will never be reimbursed with if I leave 
.
I’ve realized, however, there will always be forks in the road of life, no matter where you are. And with each fork you take, there will always be the lingering thought in your mind that maybe you took the wrong road. That maybe your choice is wholly a blemish on your record of good judgement. That maybe twenty years from now, you will look back on where you were, and regret that decision.
Or that maybe, just maybe, you’ve made the best choice of your entire life.
A chase down University Ave
Ayyaaaa woooooow–groogggggy!!! ::rubs grogginess out of eyes::
I just woke up form my first nightmare-ish dream in months! I love how daytime nap can be so action packed and amazing in less than an hour! I don’t remember a HUGE portion of it, but the last five minutes are seared into my memory. I was Jack Bauer, and at someone else’s home probably protecting it, there was a golden retriever at the home, I was playing with it, when the doorbell rang. It was a sunny day, awesome to go outside in, but I wasn’t expecting any visitors.
I half-openned the door.
The dude was white, with long, pale blond hair. About 5’10” with a gray jacket, gray-blue eyes. “Are you ______?” (I couldn’t remember what he called me) “Yes,” I said–to which he instantly replied, “Thank you for your vehicle, sir!” and TOOK the car keys from the key rack by the door. (personal note, never put a key rack by the door).
This was trouble, that much I knew immediately. I picked up my cell phone (from a coffee table behind me) and kicked the door into his face, but for some reason, I felt incredibly weak and failed to knock him down. In the struggle that ensued, I managed to get the keys out of his hand, saw about eight armed guys in cars and motorcycles, in the road in front of the house. Needed to get out of there! Blondie didn’t cry out as I stomped on his body and got into my car (which was a blue Honda Odessey) and started the engine. Blondie scrampled up, just as I found the doorlock. “You’re not gonna get far Mr. Bauer.”
This didn’t seem an idle threat, he seemed very convinced. But I didn’t care, I backed a yard, and rolled over the lawn and got the car moving! Or at least as much as a minivan could get by the end of the cul-de-sac. The bikerboys got on their rides, and they were after me! Which way?! I didn’t know where I was or where I was going, but i had the distinct feeling that I was in southern Naperville. Large trees provided a canopy of shade, but just across the road (which read “University Ave”), large fields of tall green grass swayed in the pale golden sunlight. And the bikers were coming up fast. I got out of there.
Horrible acceleration on the minivan btw. Absolutely pitiful. I was stepping on the gas as hard as I could and waited a full 10 seconds to get to 50 MPH. I suppose I was more panicked than I am now I’m writing this because I remember barely being able to dial 9-1-1 before dropping the phone, and it was as straight road but something was nagging at me, saying that I was going the wrong way. I needed to turn the car around. The bikers and their cheap pickup was gaining in the rearview mirror. Up ahead, a road–much like 75th street was ahead. I needed to slow down to turn, but…
Getting closer… 400 ft… … 200 ft… 100…ah whatever! I slammed down the brakes, and made a WIDE angle, getting ready to make a big turn, praying that the stupid minivan wouldn’t go into a roll… JUST as I turned completley around, ONE biker dude sideswiped my car in a terrifyingly loud scraping of metal and glass…
That must have triggered my consciousness and I slowly regained control of my senses… the fear and sounds were still there, but I awoke and looked around. And was in Urbana once more…