The Greatest Game Ever Played

"Make some room," I said, and fell onto the couch beside Anna. The room buzzed with anticipation, while still being deadly silent except for the fluttering of our hearts. The air itself was charged, electric.

This would be our last game for a while. The weekend would be over after tonight, and classes would start. No one would have time for this: Gerig Hall's greatest pastime. Mafia.

Arrival!

My first impression of Indiana was of color.

In Denver, I thought I knew of color; I knew the blue of the mountains and the blue of the sky, the white of winter and the green of pines. The first thing I learned at college was that I hadn't even encountered color yet. For Colorado is naturally mountain-scape, and its people imitate it in their architecture: grandiose spires of silver steel that blot out the sky. Quite by accident, Denver is a gray place.

The Illusion of Permanence

I'll admit it; that's definitely the most pretentious blog title I've ever used. I blame it on stress because--oh look!--it's time to move out. Time to move on, and say goodbye, and let go.

I've never done anything on this scale before. I've "left home" several times before--for retreats, and missions trips, and all manner of other things. The longest I've ever gone without setting foot in my home is about two weeks.

This one looks to be a little longer.

I Kinda, Sorta, In A Way...

...salsa danced tonight.

Officially, it's the first and only time in my life that I've voluntarily and cognitively participated in any kind of dance, ever. To the few who witnessed this extraordinarily rare event: congratulations. More people can swear to seeing Bigfoot than can swear to seeing me dance. You're practically a new species. Decide on some nice Latin words, and you can have your very own secret society.

Blood on the Velvet

The last man on earth heard a knock at the door.

Tap, tap, tap.

His head jerked toward it, his eyes twitched to narrow slits and his thin, pale hands tightened on the knife in his lap.

Here already? Night hadn't yet lifted; there was yet a lurid moonlit gleam spilling through the splintered glass of the window.

Tap, tap, tap.

And the Claws of the Beast Stretched Out...

And that poor, stupid, almost-college student was ripped to shreds.

Under nine days [8 days, 5 hours, 57 minutes and 30 seconds as of this writing] are left to me before I leave for Indiana. It's really looking more terrifying at this point. Two of my friends have had their going-away parties. This Sunday I'll attend my last church service in Colorado for three months (at least). Everyone else that's leaving the state is leaving, this very week; I'll be the very last one to go.

Whew. It's really happening, folks. I'm really going to college, and I'm really gonna be in Indiana.

Ready to Be Gone; Not Ready to Leave

College dorm life is now 16 days away. I've been wondering what it'll be like. Right now I keep drifting back to "terrifying," "impossible," and also "necessary."

I'm not ready yet, of course. Is it any surprise that whenever I try to prepare, I search for something else to do? Anything. Nothing in me wants to leave. I just want to stay here, and skip college. Why not? I'll just live in my parents house, forever and ever, earning money at Chick-fil-A until I make enough to rule the world, or at least buy a house. And it would certainly make life easier socially; I'd be able to stay with my friends, and stop forcing myself to check my advances when I want to chase a relationship. What would it be like to just forget it all and stay here?