The Thoughts and Ideas of My Wandering Mind

I was reading F. Scott's Fitzgerald's, The Great Gatsby , on the third floor of Thomas Library—the window to my right exemplifying the sun beating down on the trees as they begin to change color. Two girls sitting on the long, red chairs as a group of boys push past them in a rush to the dining hall. I hear a sigh out of my left ear that slightly awoke me from the trance of the view around me. It’s my friend, who we shall name Mr. X. “Man,” Mr. X says, “shit is really starting to hit the fan.” He had four thick, from what I could tell, medical books in from of him on the table; his forehead a little sweaty from the walk here I suppose. “Huh?” I said, obviously caught off guard. You see, my mind has been on other things lately, I just don’t know what. “This nursing program is too much,” he says as he hands me over a compiled list of required readings for his classes. “I’m not just reading Gatsby, man” Mr. X says, “this stuff isn’t enjoyable. I’m memorizin...

I had the absolute pleasure to share my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary this past summer on Lake Michigan. The bright pink sunset over the cold water melted my heart. Words do not allow me to show true admiration for how I truly feel about them, but maybe this will do:  I sit on Wittenberg's campus on a gloomy Monday afternoon, I remember the rocks that lay in your driveway outside your home. I remember the warmth I felt as a young boy when I made the final turn on Kelly Ridge Road, seeing the Marine and American flag waving bravely in the sunlight. I would burst into happiness when you two would swing the front door open and welcome us into your home; I can still feel the wood steps creaking under my feet walkingy up to the front door. How about the many nights we sat and listened to the woods creep as we swayed back and forth on your porch swing? Granny, I still feel your arm around me on that very swing--warm and tight. The smell of wood shavings and tools in my grand...

Walking on Alumni Way today and saw something that completely goes along with my last post. Before going on, I 'd like to apologize for the continuance of talk about what makes us free --literally and figuratively--it's just what my mind is stuck on. Anyway, I came upon a, what had to be, Wittenberg student bobbing his head up and down, slapping his books on his waist--not even noticing that his actions had caught my eye--and just walking down the brick path of Alumni; tracing over decades and decades of Witt history with his sneakers. His mind was lost and wound up in whatever sounds were exhibiting themselves from his headphones; for a moment, it was like he didn't even recognize that he was on Witt's campus. A mind so entranced by the way the music makes him feel; his motions were taken over by the rhythm of whatever tune was playing. This is what should make us feel free. Times where you lose track of the things around you and let yourself open the doors of your...