I've been feeling very nostalgic lately. Maybe it's because I've seen a lot of my college friends over the past few weeks, or maybe it's because I'm reading a book with a main character who is a student at Columbia. Whatever the case, I've been thinking a lot about my time at Northwestern and missing the days when I was a student and didn't know how good I had it. I still have it pretty good, don't get me wrong, but there's something magical about that time in life when you're independent (ish), but don't really have any major responsibilities other than to learn, have fun, and gain experience.
What's crazy is that despite living just two blocks from campus, I haven't really spent much time there since I've been back. Sure, we've been to football games and to the lakefront, but I haven't done much strolling among the buildings, absorbing the feel of college life.
But today, since my arm's stuck in a sling and I needed to figure out a hands-free workout to meet my weekly quota, I decided to take a long walk to downtown Evanston and back through campus.
It's funny because the part of campus I now enjoy the most -- south campus, near the library -- is a place I never really went as a student. I spent so much time in Tech, the engineering building, that I completely missed out on a big part of Northwestern life. Oh, to do it all over again! I wouldn't change my friends. I wouldn't change my life as it is now. But how cool would it be to go back in time and try another major? Or to have the chance to study abroad in Spain or Paris?
I'm starting to see why people try to live vicariously through their children. As I was walking around this afternoon, I kept imagining Molly in 16 years, starting out on her own adventure. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for her, by living so close to my Alma Mater, we've pretty much guaranteed she'll never go there. My guess is that, by the time she hits 18, she'll have heard enough about my glory days and will be ready to get as far away from here as possible. Then again, looking at these pictures, maybe she won't:
I'm starting to see why people try to live vicariously through their children. As I was walking around this afternoon, I kept imagining Molly in 16 years, starting out on her own adventure. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for her, by living so close to my Alma Mater, we've pretty much guaranteed she'll never go there. My guess is that, by the time she hits 18, she'll have heard enough about my glory days and will be ready to get as far away from here as possible. Then again, looking at these pictures, maybe she won't:
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| The Arch |
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| View from mid-campus |
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