I give my school a bad rap sometimes. I still maintain my vehement disagreement about trays and funds and the like. And I’ll still believe that my pet name for it, Stepford University, is pretty fitting.
I have a hard time living among lots and lots of people, where there is no place to be alone. While I don’t like it, I can’t deny that it’s a learning experience that will be helpful throughout my life. For example, when I sat on the mostly-deserted quad on a Saturday morning to read, searching for solitude, I learned that I’m allergic to ants.
But really. Social skills and all that good junk.
I admit, I’m growing fond of this place. We have some fairly amazing professors. I have yet to have one that doesn’t care about my dumb questions. Being an opinion columnist for the school paper gives a sense of place, as well. While sometimes I’ve regretting my choice of school, now I can’t imagine being somewhere else. This is my school, for better or for worse.
Birmingham is not my favorite city, and Alabama is certainly not my favorite state (frankly, I’d rather be in the mountains), but I’m discovering its rich and varied history. I have also found a most amazing church, full of fellowship, good worship, and opportunities. Among many things, being a part of this church is helping me rediscover the purpose for love and affinity for music. It’s also good for having friends outside of the Stepford bubble, which is an important thing to do. Many Stepford students go to giant churches in droves, making church merely an extension of the bubble.
But I don’t get up at 8 in the morning to blog. I have to write a topic proposal. Pip pip, cheerio!
“It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems with a bag of potatoes.” – Douglas Adams