Eighteenth Post / Rocket-man

I have finished. I have finished reading a list of books; a task claimed impossible by one professor, and sarcastically deemed "ambitious" by another. As much as Washington University is able to prepare me for my English major and Writing minor, it has. The rest, of course, has yet to unfold. My one weakness, which I'm told will take time to repair, is symbolism. So, for the purposes of this post, I have asked for Alan's help. He has given me a song : "Rocketman" by Elton John.

In the morning, I will leave for home. I have already packed my bags and they are standing by the door, waiting for their orders. My flight will last 13 hours, with a connection in New York. There is something very calming, to me, about air travel. There are some, I understand, who have a great fear of it; they think of all the ways it can go wrong, and bite their nails. It's strange, perhaps, that I should take comfort in precisely that which worries so many.

What I know, and what I am comforted by, is the simplicity of the risk involved. If something goes wrong, death is almost certain. Perhaps this is a Russian outlook, but I am happier standing on a line between life and certain death than standing on a line between two greater unknowns. Perhaps I am just strange.

All that remains for me, in St. Louis, are my suitemates. Though Alan is studying for his Russian exam, my hope is that we can gather for at least a short while. I'm not sure why I want this; I have a latent expectation that, somehow, if I gather those I am closest to together, we may summon the spirit of the good times gone by.

I am borrowing Alan's car, for the time being, and going in search of Alfonzo.

Please, wish me luck.

-Vlad

Seventeenth Post / Going Home

I was sitting on the third floor of the library, brushing up on my Tolstoy and watching today's magnificent snowfall, when I realized that I must return home this Winter. Upon tasting the opportunities at my command, I quickly lost sight of that which has always been my inspiration.

I will redouble my efforts and catch the first plane out on the 23rd.

Snow is such a beautiful thing, yes? Had I a mind for it, I'd learn every language in the world just so I could wax poetic about snow.

-Vlad