College Oh College.

It's a Monday morning; approx 7:56 A.M.  

I step out of my car.  Lot 26, behind the Track Stadium; within close proximity of the campus of University California Riverside.

I can't believe it.
Yesterday I turned Seven.
Today I'm a working college student. 
First year.  First Day.

It's going to take awhile to reach the populated buildings of campus--the parking lots are quite a bit away.  I see a boy with a messenger backpack and brown scruffy hair begin walking towards the campus, just a few feet from me.  Immediately, I catch up to him and without hesitation, give a friendly "Hey, what's up?"

Our conversation carried through the 13 minute walk to the campus.  His name was David.  He was an interesting fellow; with a heavy accent of some sort and a passion for politics.  As we departed shortly after reaching the campus to go our separate ways, I stopped to take a look around.

Large, complex buildings.  Vast open spaces with trees and green lawns.  A scatter of students making their way towards their early classes.  It wasn't crowded--not yet anyway.

So here I am I guess.  I've left High School behind.  I'm here now.  In this large facility dedicated to the purpose of learning--enhancing one's understanding and knowledge of the world around him/her.  It's a beautiful place.  On the outside, I can feel myself start to shake a little.  Feeling a little overwhelmed.  My God, what am I doing in this place?

But deep down I feel a part of me that is silent.  That never moves.  And that is always centered.  He refers to me as "Kid."  I don't know what to call him--I just listen.  Though he doesn't say anything now, I can feel that he is overjoyed and ready to encounter what this new stage of life has to bring.  I trust him, and feel a little more sure-footed.  I keep walking to find my classes.

My drama class slowly fills up to 90 students.  It's a little intimidating at first--but I find that I really like it.  It's new.  It's refreshing.  What's going to happen next?  The instructor asks for a few volunteers and I feel my hand shoot up.  For some reason my outside isn't so shaky as it used to be.  And my center seems to be taking over more and more as I actually do the things it tells me to do.  With some of my peers, I stand in a line in front of the class, facing the ocean of faces of those who would rather watch the demonstration.  Spotlights overhead illuminate all we are.   I have no idea what's going to happen.  But I stare up, and don't feel so small.  I don't feel scared.  I don't feel nervous as much.  I just feel...happy I think. 

So the drama instructor walks toward an empty student's chair, and stares at us.

The entire room is quiet.

85 pairs of eyes fall on us.

Quiet.

The threat of an awkward tidal wave threatens us. 

I look at the instructor's expression.

She's grinning.

Lightbulb. 

I whisper to the guy next to me:  "Hey, I think we're performing right now." 

So I ask him in a clear voice

 "My name is William!  What's yours?"
"Oh, my name is Aaron.  Nice to meet you."
"Great!  I'm a first year."
"That's awesome."

So I turn to the remaining volunteers who were utterly quiet and ask

"Hey guys!  Have you met Aaron!?"


And so we all proceeded to introduce ourselves--completely forgetting about the audience.

At the end of the "demonstration" our instructor taught that performing is easier when you concentrate --not on the audience, but the relationships and the scene itself with the other actors.  We had passed her little "test."  Damn, this place was interesting.

I walk out of my Drama class--time flew by--as I would learn later.  All my lectures flew by.  It was nothing like high school--where periods would drag on--seemingly forever.  In this place, lectures were intriguing.  And they all seemed so short--despite that they usually lasted at least an hour. 

I reach one of the main central areas of the campus.  And take a look around.

Teens, students, everywhere.  Walking to places.  Running to places.  Biking to places.  Skateboarding, rollerblading.  Everywhere, everyone was headed somewhere.  There were literally thousands of people all over the campus.  It was an eternal "passing period" in this place.  When students got to their classes, new ones would come out of old ones, and be making their way to the next.  People making their way to the cafeteria with friends.  Individuals finding empty tables to do some reading.  People on benches with laptops, scanning for some quick information.  Sorority sisters walking in groups, tall guys with tattoos smoking at the entrances of the library, a boyfriend and girlfriend having an animate conversation about a party last week passing by.  A band begins to play at the bell tower.  A scattered 30 sit to watch them while some others start dancing in the front.  Bike racks are everywhere on this campus--and they always seem so full.  Everyone, each with their own story--making their way to their next progression.  It's the Sims here.  It's the Sims on a gargantuan scale.  Everyone is busy doing something.

Damn I'm starving. 

I stop a guy in mid-stride and ask him where a good place to eat would be.  He gives his opinions, his directions, and finally says "The cheapest place to eat though is off campus."  I find out later that just about everyone on this campus is friendly and open.  Not like the scattered douche bags from High School.  They know why they're here, they're motivated, they're ambitious, and they're not afraid to help a fellow student out.   I spend the break between my next classes at Taco Bell.   Just a short drive away.  So I'm eating my tacos, studying the map of the campus, and it hits me.

Wow....it's all me.  Just here.  Completely self-directed.  Doing whatever the hell I want.  This is...weird--but in the best way possible.  

  I find myself filing into a crowded lecture hall--a lecture for British Literature.  It's a room that can hold probably about 300-400 students.  I see an empty seat and ask the girl adjacent to it if anyone was going to sit there.  With the A-Okay, I sat down and busted some note-taking utensils out.  The lecture would start in about 5 minutes.  So there was down time to fill up.  I turn toward the girl next to me and ask:

"Hey what's up?"
"Erhm, nothing much haha."

I realize if I'm going to make friends here I have to open up.  But it's so easy here.  Talking to "strangers."  We're all here for the same reason.  And we are all connected in that way.  It's easy to relate.  And I'm so glad I'm not the nervous wreck I was the first 3 years of high school.  I'm so thankful that in the last year, I at least acquired the confidence to talk to anyone without tearing myself down. Dammit High  School, I'll never forget how you helped me. 

As the lecture proceeded, I noticed some students with laptops in the mid-rows.  Some taking notes.  Other's on completely irrelevant websites.  Others on facebook.  Sometimes during the lecture, people would leave.  Other times, people would just arrive.  I quickly concluded that:

It didn't matter whatever the hell you did during the lecture.  You can be late, or early, or just leave whenever you wanted to.  You could put your head down and sleep--and nobody would care.  This lecture was for you.  And if you didn't want to pay attention--hell, you didn't have to.  Don't want to take notes?  Hell, just sit back, relax, and just watch!   It was this freedom that made the lecture that much more engaging.  The fact that I had a choice made the positive choice much more fulfilling--as I felt.  This is what education was truly about.  About WANTING to find out more.  And not being forced through a tunnel that shoved information down your throat.  This place had so much more leeway, so much vast openness, that it felt wonderful learning.  It felt good listening to what the instructor had to say.  It felt good calling the shots.  And to know that you are only 1 in 400 in the class, sharing this same awesome atmosphere. 

A 50 minute drive back to Temecula, and I find myself at work.  It's 6:30PM, and I'm closing to 10PM.

I'm on the road of education, and I'm making money on the side.  

There's no time to question my worth now.
There's simply no time to be miserable.
There's only just time.

And all the space in between is that much more meaningful.