Sand. Sun. Surf. This is what I grew up with.
From the time I was born in sunny San Diego until the age of 18, I could drive to the Pacific Ocean in less than two hours. So you can imagine how hard it was to transition to the hot, humid, unpredictable weather that Indiana so graciously offers. Not to mention all the toothless, backy chewin', rednecks that have overrun the countryside. Thankfully, my family managed to avoid most of that by moving to Lafayette - yes, I am a Boilermaker by association - where I was able to secure a job that I held for the two years I lived there. It was at this job whilst working for the corporate bigs, and training all the naive newbies that came through, that I met some of the funniest people and my most sincere friends.
This job also taught me that there are more polite people in the city of Lafayette than in the entire state of California, where it is borderline illegal to hold the door open for somebody. And I dare you to help an old lady cross the street, boy scout or not. It seems that without the bustle of big cities and the special treatment that comes with it, people here have found more time to stop and smell the corn as the case may be. Or maybe it was that Californians have become so accustomed to the smell of pollution and new cars that nothing else holds any special smell. Whatever it was, it sure was a nice change from the life I had grown up with to be able to actually have time to do things other than work and school.
But just as I was beginning to understand and appreciate my new home, December came, and with it a cold that I had only experienced during the five days or so each winter that we took trips up to the Sierras for snowboarding. Indiana's bitter, lingering cold was one more thing I was not used to and just one more thing that reminded me that I wasn't in Kansas - I mean California - any longer.
So I swallowed my pride, learned how to drive in eight inches of snow and I learned how to scrape ice off a car, something that few Californians ever have to do, and gradually I began to respect Indiana once more.
After three failed attempts to join the Purdue University gang and two years of Ivy Tech, I changed majors and took my application elsewhere. The following fall I applied at Ball State University, knowing only that its English department was far superior to Purdue's - that, and the David Letterman bit.
After I finished my last semester at Ivy Tech last spring, I focused on the only thing one can focus on between June and August - I don't believe it needs an introduction. For me, summer started in Manchester, Tenn., for a week-long funk fest called Bonnaroo. Once I had washed the stink of hippie and spilled beer off myself, I focused on working, writing and saving what money I could for the fall, when I would venture out into the "real college world." Upon arriving at Ball State, I knew it was going to be an absolute blast, and I haven't been disappointed yet.
From the start it has been a wild ride, and even though there have only been a week of classes, I can already tell that the next 15 will be nothing short of pure, unadulterated excitement. To the freshmen, I say: Good luck on your first year of big kid school; study hard and get involved. To the transfer students (like me) who are just as green as the freshmen, I hope that Ball State is much more exciting than wherever you were before. And to all the returning students, I say welcome back and continue the good - or the not so good - habits that have kept you here.
So now here I am, eight months after opening the letter that everyone here has received at some point in time. Classes are underway, dorm rooms are decked out in the most random display of feng shui-ness and we are off to what will surely be an exciting and interesting year. So as we say on the West Coast to all of you readers: have a hella fun year Ball State.
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