Here I am again. Typing to a blank screen for CC. I have to admit, blogging on this platform is weird. It was weird when I was in London during those sticky summer weeks. It was weird when I sat in this same campus bedroom, at my desk facing west, trying to make sense of that amazing course that took me to South Dakota and brought me back altered in an intricate, unable-to-define sort of way. And it’s weird now, sitting on my too high of a bed, Monday morning of 2nd week of 5th block inching closer with every letter I hit.
Sunday, Sunday, Sunday night. I never know what to think of Sunday nights.
I’m used to writing for myself, scribbling in secret pages, in password-protected documents, or on anonymous blogs. I’m used to writing for my mother or my father on holidays, or for professors, with the knowledge that only their eyes will scan the page. Or in creative workshops–where it’s grilled into our little minds that the circle is a safe space. My older sister got married in June. At the reception, I read a poem of a toast that I’d scrawled the night before and I nearly collapsed as I spit my words into the microphone. Blogging with my full name on a public space is like the moment your plane hits the runway. Breath held. Feet firm on the sticky carpet. Wait, wait, wait. Heave a sign when no unanticipated impact is made.
Point I’m trying to make, I’m not used to exposure–the vulnerability of thrusting my words onto a public space. I’m unsure if I’ll ever find blogging (especially on my college’s website) normal, and yet–yet–I find this space–this dashboard, this little not-so-hidden-but-somehow-feels-hidden-section of the website–soothing. As made evident from my past posts, despite my intentions (or, perhaps more accurately, my hesitations), I always manage to compose freely here–always punch my keys far more times than anticipated.
If you’re wondering why I’m here again (you’re probably not)–why I’m blogging once more despite the fact that I’m not in a Featured Course, that I’ve already been a Blogger twice before–I’m now the Spring 2013 Student Curator. What does that mean? I’m still grasping the idea of it myself. By definition of the term curator, I suppose it means oversee Colorado College student life (haha–me?–really?). Realistically, my position involves aiding in the construction and management of the blocky Featured Courses and giving little blurbs in regards to events and people that strike my interest and I think will strike the greater community’s as well.
Here though, on this blog, maybe–just maybe–I can give even deeper insight into the CC mind.
That sounds odd. I take that back (kinda). I don’t mean the CC mind. No. I mean, a CC mind. A glimpse into the non-academic (though surely my courses will leak in from time to time–I’m currently in Introduction to Poetry, FYI) side of a CC life. Fair warning: this is a rather introverted, too busy for her own good, often-hibernating fool of a CC mind. But I think that’s okay. I personally adore my day-to-day race, and if I can offer another view of CC, another opinion, another chunk of absurd writing to read, then I’m your girl (until my boss tells me otherwise).
A few weekends ago, I had the pleasure of speaking on the student panel at the Winter Start Orientation. The night fell on my one year anniversary of becoming an official CC student (transfer winter starts unite!) and, gosh, was it dizzying to sit up there–Bemis hall rocking below, a sea of tables with parents and new peers and professors roaring in the thrill. My throat spiked and my eyes burned, and man, I’m so often cliche (get used to it), but I almost cried. I wanted to hug every Winter Start. Every student. Every professor and parent and person associated with this absurdly invigorating place. Life here is not always easy–CC is rarely easy–but every week, day, hour is so worth it–every block a step on this absurdly exhilarating path to wherever it is we are all going.
Anyway. I have many things to write about (that’s an exaggeration). A certain wintery ball that occurred last weekend. A hike I dominated. A secret oh-so-fabulous CC commercial that was filmed in single digit temperatures. But for the sake of brevity (or for the sake of eventually finding some sleep and passing that gnarly scansion quiz tomorrow), I’m treating this as an introduction to my next phase as a CC blogger. The possibilities of what I’ll share here are seemingly limitless (not really), but–really–I just hope to do that: share. Share one’s student rambles of the college so many of us (rightfully) claim as home.
