Spring Apocalypse

My spring apocalypse started approximately fourteen hours ago.

If I’m going to be poetic and weird I’d say that everything melted, but since we barely had winter, it’s not that applicable.

(Thoreauvians, this one’s for yall)

We drove out of town with ice on the rocks by the side of the road (mysterious, given it was 50 degrees out) and discussed the GPS. If Thoreau wanted to know the distance from Middletown to Mamaroneck (pronounce it correctly), he’d use string. And he’d be accurate. We used the GPS.

It may seem ridiculous to drive 80 miles and ride two trains and run a couple blocks just to listen to someone talk for fifteen minutes, but for us it wasn’t. It was probably the best decision I’ve made so far this year (and 2012 isn’t as new anymore).

I felt like we were transported back, weirdly, to freshmen fall, and that feeling of closeness. After Abelove’s closing remarks, we talked over dinner fairly frankly (because we’re among friends).

I wish when we all said goodbye, it didn’t feel like we were saying goodbye to someone we hadn’t seen in a year and a half. I wish it felt like we all live within a mile of each other and inhabit the same tiny bubble that is Wesleyan. Which we do.

Although at the same time, it’s really only coincidence and the mysteries of WesMaps that brought us all together in the first place so there’s really no inherent reason for us to feel close and god it’s such a weird situation and…

write deliberately, read deliberately, disobey (civilly) when you need to, know that the spring apocalypse will come. Drive home in the dark listening to Oren and Leo debate philosophy/identity/theory of self and be too tired to join in. But know that you are among friends.


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