Eight years ago today I was in the office when a guy who worked with us at the time ran in and declared that a plane had hit one of the towers of the World Trade Centre. We hastily found an old TV, set up its antenna and got CBC over the airwaves. We spent the next few hours watching the world change before our eyes. No work was done. We shut down everything, even our websites and put up a simple memorial message in tribute to ‘all the human beings who were touched by this horrible event’.
I settled on a philosophy class. I didn’t even bother hunting around for options after that first class. Our prof seems genuinely passionate about the subject and our personalities seem compatible, though I haven’t really spoken to him yet. I’m taking the class with my cousin, Shyanne, who’s just beginning her first year of university. I’m happy to be playing a part in the beginning of her university experience. I plan to do the same with Jazzy in about eight years.
The campus itself is buzzing. ‘Welcome Week’ is packed with concerts in the academic green, parties, free food, and first year students. They’re wandering aimlessly, eyes wide, wearing their best cloths, best hairstyles and wondering what the hell they got themselves into. In about two months they’ll be in sweat pants and ball caps with bags under their eyes.
It’s a good energy right now. I’m enjoying it.