Tying Up Loose Ends

[illusionofjoy]

Today I paid the SUNY Potsdam campus a visit. It was one in the many "final instalments" of the tragicomedy known as my college career. I honestly thought I would like saying goodbye to this place so much more than my actual level of enjoyment at this moment.

Today was the day that I moved all of my possessions out of the dorm. They had been resting there quite comfortably since the winter recess began, and I had been living at home with just the bare necessities. Since the spring semester starts after this weekend and since I apparently have no hope of attending the school for that semester, I decided that it might be a good idea to retrieve my possessions.

A friend of mine drove over with his van and helped me pack everything up and ship it out. The whole process ran fairly smoothly, though we weren't finished until after 5:00PM. This just means that I'll have to wait until Tuesday to return my room key to the residence life office during regular business hours - no big deal.

Yesterday I said my final goodbyes to WAIH. I went into the station, took a few photographs for future nostalgia bouts and then tied up loose ends there. Basically, the ends I tied up involved sending an email to promoters saying, "I'm not the music director anymore" and composing a letter for the general manager that said, "I'm not a student anymore." I then walked to the building manager's office and turned in my key.

This week has gone by very quickly for me. When it began I was still trying to get back into the damn school. Now I'm accepting that I won't get back in. As a matter of fact, I'm almost embracing the fact that I can't get back in as perhaps the best thing that could have happened to me (a pity that it couldn't have happened earlier).

Still, I prefer to concentrate on my issues in a solitary sense. I may discuss it online through my writing, but that does not mean I wish to discuss my dismissal one on one. This desire to be closed manifests itself most strongly when what I like to call, "small town syndrome" strikes. Small town syndrome is a condition wherein the residents of a municipality of 15,000 or less feel the need to know everything about one another's business. They feel that it is their right to do so by virtue of the fact that the low population allows for closer connections and easier recognition.

Small town syndrome hit while I was riding the elevator of my former residence hall. I was fairly certain that either my friend or I had been seen taking boxes out of the suite that I used to live in and depositing them in one of two vehicles parked nearby. Still, the person I was riding the elevator with - one of the hall janitors felt the need to strike up a conversation.

"So, you're moving back in," I was asked.

"No, actually," I replied, immediately wanting out of the conversation.

"Oh, so you're moving out?"

"Yes."

"Ah, you're done with school then?"

"Yes, I am.

"Did you graduate?" I really wanted this conversation to end.

"No."

"Are you taking a semester off?"

"No."

"Umm, ah..." The janitor seemed flustered and immediately abandoned me as a potential small-talk partner to speak with the person standing on the other side of the elevator. I silently lamented that people whom I have no real connection with should not be so nosy unless I deign to put the information out there in the first place.

It is bitterly cold out tonight, the thermometer reading -25°F. Last night there was a heavy snowfall, but tonight there isn't a cloud in the sky. The moon is full and it is shining brightly upon the snow, now made crisp by the –25°F air. As I gaze out the window, it seems that the snow is glowing. It shines in a lovely deep shade of phosphorescent aquamarine. The sky mirrors it in much darker hues, save for the halo around the moon.

Had I a higher threshold of tolerance for the cold, or more layers of warm clothing to put on, I might go out walking on a night like this. It is simply beautiful and it is that beauty that I would I would wish to bathe myself in.

Still, at such harsh low temperatures, the show does not come without a price. At –25°F, if the wind picks up even a little bit, it is like a thousand tiny knives shearing any flesh unlucky enough to be exposed. This means that your face stings and you suddenly find yourself overwhelmed with only the desire to get inside where it is warm.

Last night I was browsing through online classified ads for apartments in Pittsburgh. I wonder, once I move away...what will the view outside my window look like? And how many random people will ask me questions they needn't know the answers to?