Let’s not be over-sentimental now...it’s just the end of first year university.
Leaving JC 208 this morning at 5:30 was kind of difficult. It felt like that last episode of friends when Ross, Rachel, Chandler, Joey and the gang all left their keys on the counter of the apartment knowing they would never return to that place again. In silence. You know all their fond (and not so fond) memories in that place were flashing before their eyes.
Except this time I didn’t cry like in the episode.
The friendships I made this year far exceeded my expectations. Like someone (who exactly, escapes my mind at the moment) said once, when it comes to friendships, “a month in res is like a year outside of res.” I guess you could say that I’ve been friends with some of these people for 8 years than. It’s funny to think that I’ve only known Chris, Nat, Zoe, Jo, Audrey, Aaron, CL and Andrew since September.
I need to find the password to my old blog that I started in September to document those drunken nights on the beach, in the mystic vale or in “cuddle puddles” under the chill autumn sky.
Another thing that is hard to comprehend is how we all ended up staying alive. If you want to start pushing yourself to see what the human body is capable of, just live in res for a year. Especially during exam period. You learn to function on 4 hours of sleep a night. Consume idiotic amounts of coffee. It’s no longer weird to drink a beer (or two) during the day or find your friend drinking wine at 3 in the afternoon while watching Sex and the City reruns because she can no longer read Geography.
Oh, and Sawmill Creek has had one loyal customer this year. Nothing like an $8. 75 bottle of wine once a week.
We lean on each other to pull through. Cry on each others’ shoulders when things get hard or we lose our ground. And laugh for no reason at all. Jake and I know about that. We did discover that, “You just have to crumble it,” is the hardest phrase to detect by lip reading. Then laughed about it for half an hour (sober).
When Audrey left us on Saturday it felt like a piece of our whole was gone. Also, that morning Chris mentioned this sort of “elastic theory.” It’s true that no matter where you are bumming around campus, you seem to always attract your friends to you. All our paths intersect at many different points many times a day and there is something comforting about that.
Texting to coordinate plans is utterly unnecessary sometimes. Jake and I are a good example of that. We pretty much see each other everyday without planning it. Even if we are downtown. Funny how that works. Our true test is going to be at Sasquatch...we planned to not make plans and see if we can sift through the hordes of people to find each other.
Sasquatch makes leaving not so bad. So many wicked people are attending the festival in a couple weeks so I didn’t have to say “goodbye” but more “farewell until May 22!”
Now I’m on the ferry. I’m that little kid who runs up to the top deck and basks in the rising sun completely oblivious of the high winds that tussle my hair. There is something serene about being on this huge boat as it slices over the cresting waves that lap up against it. Something tranquil about the way the sun’s rays chart out a glowing path over the ocean. I always wonder about the people who live on those little islands. I want to go there and talk to them.
Well, the ferry will be docking shortly and I will begin my landlocked summer.
Farewell Van Island. Until next time.
Leaving JC 208 this morning at 5:30 was kind of difficult. It felt like that last episode of friends when Ross, Rachel, Chandler, Joey and the gang all left their keys on the counter of the apartment knowing they would never return to that place again. In silence. You know all their fond (and not so fond) memories in that place were flashing before their eyes.
Except this time I didn’t cry like in the episode.
The friendships I made this year far exceeded my expectations. Like someone (who exactly, escapes my mind at the moment) said once, when it comes to friendships, “a month in res is like a year outside of res.” I guess you could say that I’ve been friends with some of these people for 8 years than. It’s funny to think that I’ve only known Chris, Nat, Zoe, Jo, Audrey, Aaron, CL and Andrew since September.
I need to find the password to my old blog that I started in September to document those drunken nights on the beach, in the mystic vale or in “cuddle puddles” under the chill autumn sky.
Another thing that is hard to comprehend is how we all ended up staying alive. If you want to start pushing yourself to see what the human body is capable of, just live in res for a year. Especially during exam period. You learn to function on 4 hours of sleep a night. Consume idiotic amounts of coffee. It’s no longer weird to drink a beer (or two) during the day or find your friend drinking wine at 3 in the afternoon while watching Sex and the City reruns because she can no longer read Geography.
Oh, and Sawmill Creek has had one loyal customer this year. Nothing like an $8. 75 bottle of wine once a week.
We lean on each other to pull through. Cry on each others’ shoulders when things get hard or we lose our ground. And laugh for no reason at all. Jake and I know about that. We did discover that, “You just have to crumble it,” is the hardest phrase to detect by lip reading. Then laughed about it for half an hour (sober).
When Audrey left us on Saturday it felt like a piece of our whole was gone. Also, that morning Chris mentioned this sort of “elastic theory.” It’s true that no matter where you are bumming around campus, you seem to always attract your friends to you. All our paths intersect at many different points many times a day and there is something comforting about that.
Texting to coordinate plans is utterly unnecessary sometimes. Jake and I are a good example of that. We pretty much see each other everyday without planning it. Even if we are downtown. Funny how that works. Our true test is going to be at Sasquatch...we planned to not make plans and see if we can sift through the hordes of people to find each other.
Sasquatch makes leaving not so bad. So many wicked people are attending the festival in a couple weeks so I didn’t have to say “goodbye” but more “farewell until May 22!”
Now I’m on the ferry. I’m that little kid who runs up to the top deck and basks in the rising sun completely oblivious of the high winds that tussle my hair. There is something serene about being on this huge boat as it slices over the cresting waves that lap up against it. Something tranquil about the way the sun’s rays chart out a glowing path over the ocean. I always wonder about the people who live on those little islands. I want to go there and talk to them.
Well, the ferry will be docking shortly and I will begin my landlocked summer.
Farewell Van Island. Until next time.
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