Entry 8

As the semester draws to a close the unfortunate realization comes to fruition that the line up of the smoke hut next semester will change. No longer will we be graced with the presence of the same faces day after day, week after week. No longer will the same debauch topics climax in the same fashion that they do (well, at least not for the first week or two of the upcoming semester). And, worst of all, the element of the place changes so drastically that it’s almost awkward for the first few weeks of a new semester.
As I’ve said before, the huts on campus are places where people find their release throughout the monotony that tends to plague students during the throws of the semester. If it wasn’t for the people in regular attendance, though, then the huts would be nothing more than places where people went to smoke.
Over this semester I realized that the smoke huts were so much more than just places to smoke. I’ve realized that these are small little communities of people, all with at least one common bond, that come together once or several times a day to facet by facet reveal themselves on a level that complete strangers just don’t do.
I’ve always said that I hated people. This is a true statement. I hate everything about the idea of people, I hate the ways in which people conduct themselves, I hate the outright scummy things that people tend to do. But, what is misunderstood by this statement is that the concept of the individual differs greatly from the concept of people. This semester I was graced with the opportunity to meet individuals, to get know these unique entities on a level that simple passers by could not understand. I obtained a support system that I didn’t think existed outside of the comfort of family. They are even more than a support system… they are now my friends.
Even if some of these faces never make their way into my life again I have realized something very important by their presence over the past few months: everybody meets for a reason. You have all helped me through a tumultuous course in my collegiate career all the while providing me with a reason to want to come to school each and every day.
With that, I leave you all with this:

“A monument to monumental dying thoughts/ Let the currents take us where they will. From this (hut) I can see the world unfold before me. I’m brooding over broken nights/ I break each sentence like a limb. This is my exit.”

- The Lawrence Arms “Fireflies”