23 Credits... and yet, a blog...this one hurt.

I took 23 credits this term... every time I tell people they like bug out their eyes in shock and usually say something along the lines of, "Oh my gosh... 23?? How can you even DO that?!?"...

Easy. You register for classes at your full time college, and then fill in any lower-division classes at your trusty local community college (which, btw, is like SHS(my high school) with ash trays...) The trick is, don't buy all that "dual enrollment" bologna they feed you. If you really want to overload your schedule(and you're sure the community college classes directly transfer over) just go both places, and TA DA.. 23 credits. It's pretty intimidating, to be honest. I have like hundreds of pages of reading each night, but lucky for me, I don't do any of it... so it never really bugs me much.

Ok, I do SOME school work. I write papers, read Cliff Notes and such. And when I say Cliff Notes I don't mean like just the summary of the work, I mean the summary, some of the analysis and even the character write-ups. I guess you could call me a diligent student ))I wonder how much time I am actually saving...((

Why would an able-bodied individual such as myself choose to overload to this extent... well, frick it, I wanna graduate. I am SO ready to finish at school (and then start grad school elsewhere) because I guess I have the romantic notion that after I have my BA I might be a human being, and stop being a "college student". Like I said, it's a NOTION... and entirely inaccurate, considering I'm planning on getting my MAT(Masters of Arts in Teaching) directly following my graduation this year.

I guess my current university is an institution which represents some really awful times in my life. Although I have a FEW good memories there, I also have some deeply real and painful associations with it, too...

It was the place where I realize how truly hurtful people can be, for no reason.

Where I was first shown that some people truly ARE evil, and will use any way possible to stab the soft underbelly of a seemingly innocent, tender and naive creature.

I was introduce to the idea, for the first time, that people might not always like me.

I dealt with my first heartbreak there, and however insignificant it was, I was deeply hurt by it.

I was used, and hurt, and mistreated...

But the hardest part about the place wasn't from years past, it was from recently.

On a Thursday night last January, I was in my bedroom of a small apartment I shared with a dear friend, down the road from campus. My room mate was at work, and I was just futzing around doing anything but school work. I got a call from my dad(Pip) that would inevitably change my life. "Are you sitting down?" he said..

"Why??"

"Just please be sitting down"

"Ok, ok..." I sighed as I crouched down onto my blue exercise ball, I knew it wasn't good, but I had no idea how truly bad it would be.

"Geoff had an accident... he was hiking today and fell, and they haven't gotten him yet, but it doesn't look good."

"Wait WHAT???" as the words sunk in they turned my blood to ice... stunned, I am not sure how I responded or how the conversation ended, but I hung up the phone and began to scream. I screamed from pain, I wailed from shock... I didn't know what to do as I simultaneously switched positions in a strange rotating dance of sorrow. Crouched on the ground, my arms squeezed tight and clenching every muscle I could, I screamed. Extended to standing, arms outstretched and head facing Heaven, I howled... my body ceased to be controlled, and began to react in ways you never quite see in movies. It hurt to much to consider the possibilities...

For years leading up to this day, when asked about my "biggest fear" it was always that something would happen to my brother... my hero... My head pounded with words that would haunt me.

"...but it doesn't look good."