Off the Block (Plan)

Cue the epic music, folks, because IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWNNNNN. Less than 10 days to go!

I left the Springs this morning, leaving behind my first ever apartment, my dear friends, Colorado College, and, of course, the Block Plan. Everything I've come to find familiar, comfortable, and normal is starting to fade away again. For some reason, this round of goodbyes seemed significantly easier than the first set back in April as I was leaving for London, even though this time I am going to be gone longer, will be going into the experience relatively alone (do Facebook friends count as real friends if you know you are going to be friends with them when you meet them?), will have very limited communication between myself and all the people I love, and a myriad of other reasons that would make one think that it would be significantly more difficult for me to peace out of town this time around. Maybe it hasn't hit me yet. Maybe my subconscious mind thinks that I'm just at home for Block Break until next week. For all you Psychology/Biology/Sociology/-ology majors out there, feel free to correct me if my assumption is way off base; I'll just correct your grammar and syntactical structure within your correction of my misassumption. Did you know misassumption was a real word? I didn't until I typed it and didn't see the squiggly red line of error underneath that is also seen on Microsoft Word and the like. At least Blogger identifies it as a real word. I think. I suddenly feel smarter. Cool!

The Block Plan. The defining aspect of my quirky home institution of Colorado College. That is what I miss already more than anything else. That is what is making leaving CC for the time being so difficult. Yes, I certainly miss my friends, but I'll have new friends soon that will be on this adventure with me to keep my social life exciting. A quick reminder to all you readers about the Block Plan, since I haven't really described it in detail since my earliest entries: Colorado College's unique Block Plan, now adopted by two other institutions of higher learning on this continent, challenges students with the premise of taking one class at a time. One class, or "block," is taught to the same group of students by the same professor for 3 1/2 weeks for five days a week for, generally speaking, three hours a day from 9 A.M.-noon. Labs and movie viewings are held in the afternoon. If you're lucky, you might have a professor during a particular block that will start class at 9:15 or 9:30, which may not sound like much, but makes a HUGE difference on the Block Plan. You see, because everything is so scrunched into just under a month, time takes on a different meaning and level of importance at CC. Days are measured by where they are in the block or within the year. 1st Wednesday, 2nd Tuesday, 3rd Friday, 4th Monday, 2nd Block, 5th Block, and more are common terms thrown around on campus. So far, the Block Plan has given my college experience an extremely different flavor and zest than all of my friends at other schools.

The nice thing about my goodbyes back in April was that I wasn't going off the Block Plan for quite some time. Now, after 11 straight blocks of classes, it's time to move on to a new challenge: the Semester Plan. It's going to be weird, I'm sure. I'll be the only person on the ship with this specific challenge. I'm taking a break from a place where the vast majority of campus is out of class at noon and on their way to lunch in Rastall or Benji's. I'm taking a break from being forced, whether joyfully or disdainfully, to pay perfect attention for three hours every morning on one specific subject. I'm taking a break from papers that have to be conceived, typed, edited, and turned in in under 24 hours. I'm taking a break from reading entire novels in one or two days. I'm taking a break from the "First Day Jitters" every month. I'm taking a break from total immersion. I'm taking a break from all the bizarre idiosyncrasies and peculiarities of the Block Plan. So, I suppose it's just about time then to be a "normal college student." Four classes at a time? I can........try it. I hope everything the Block Plan has taught me (how to plow through a paper in one sitting, speed reading, intellectual finesse, among others) will come in handy when I have four different things to focus on at once.

Except I'm not really off the Block Plan. I still have to finish my final paper for my C Block class, an independent reading on Peter Pan in a 19th century context. Guess how interesting it is. Really, c'mon. Guess.

It's not.

Rediscovering Home in More Than One Place and Way

I’ve mused about the concept of home in several past entries now and I still can’t seem to come to a conclusive answer. After these last couple of weeks, I’m more confused than ever. I’ve spent the last three weekends away from the Springs, visiting three very different and very distinct places, each of which played an enormous role in shaping who I am, as well as giving direction to my values and beliefs. And even though I didn't go there in the last month, hearing about the riots in London, my temporary home this past spring, brought a deep sense of sadness to me. I’m having trouble writing this. My mind is ablaze with memories and nostalgia. My spirit has been rejuvenated and refreshed, which I’m certain will make the transition into Semester at Sea all the easier. My heart yearns for the past, but is looking forward to the future and the continued roles these places will play as I experience the inevitable paradigm shift(s) that will come from my experiences this fall. I barely slept these last few weeks, as I have tried to squeeze every last drop out of my pilgramige’s to all of my homes. I’m so happy and sad and nostalgic and a whole grab bag of other feelings all at the same time. I’m everywhere and nowhere. 

Like the Sound of Music says, let’s start from the very beginning, as it is a very good place to start. You can thank the Drama major in me for that musical shout out. I know my mom will appreciate it, too.

July 22-July 24, 2011 in Aspen, Colorado at my house in the Roaring Fork Valley:

Oh, Aspen. My return here was to briefly see my sister to celebrate her birthday, as well to just get some peace and quiet away from the urban sprawl of Colorado Springs. I have an odd relationship with my mountain hamlet of 6,000 year-round residents and 1 zillion obnoxiously wealthy tourists. On the one hand, it is easily the most economically wealthy place I have ever been, and many of the residents are not afraid to show that off. Prada, Gucci, Bvalgari, and every other designer imaginable have stores planted downtown. I often feel out of place amongst the ultra-rich elite; I’m just a lowly college student with an almost non-existent bank account. On the other hand, it is a postcard. By that I mean it is absolutely gorgeous. The sheer physical beauty of where I live is indescribable. John Denver’s song Rocky Mountain High was written about the Roaring Fork Valley and the incredible surrounding mountains, including Sopris, the Maroon Bells, Castle, and Pyramid. I am one lucky son of a gun to have an address there, found on both my license and voter registration. My friends there are also some of the most down-to-earth people I know, the public transit is top notch, the restaurants are varied and delicious, and the recreational opportunities are endless. It’s hard to complain about Aspen when I can feel absolutely 100% safe walking down a dark back alley at 2 in the morning. Though I get made fun of by my “true Coloradoan” friends for finding solace by retreating into this wonderland of glitz and glamour, pomp and powder, and ski bums and socialites, Aspen has become home over the years and has taught me a lot more than just the value of a dollar and parental gratitude.

July 29-July 31, 2011 in Reston, Virginia at my house in the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Area:

The 703. NOVA. The DMV. The District. Whatever you want to call it, Northern Virginia is my original stomping ground, and my retreat back to the East Coast was mostly to celebrate my best friend’s birthday, but also to see my other friends before SAS. Like Aspen, I certainly have a love/hate relationship with the place that raised me from cradle to post-high school graduate. One important life lesson I have learned from going to college is that you should never, ever forget your roots. For all the crappy memories I have of high school and many of the horrendously shallow people involved, I have many wonderful moments I can recall in my mind with sincere fondness. At this point, the majority of my life has been spent in the D.C. Metropolis, so how could I go back and not feel something? Truth be told, this time was no different. I hung out with the same folks from high school and talked about the same things I talked about in high school and went to the same places I went to in high school and did the same things I did in high school, sans for a failed attempt to go clubbing in the city (second time that this has happened this year, first being in London, and I really hope this doesn’t happen again). Little has changed, which makes it so comforting, but also somewhat disheartening because I enjoy the challenge of having to adapt to change. It’s weird. Virginia is weird. Virginia is probably the place I call home that I have the most mixed feelings about, so it’s proving to be difficult to write about. Maybe I’ll revisit this later, but for now I’d rather move on to something that will be difficult to write about in a different way, if that makes any sense at all.

August 6-9, 2011 in Estes Park, Colorado at Cheley Colorado Camps:

My summer paradise where I have spent at least some amount of time every year, whether as a camper or alumni, since 2007, Cheley has been the single most important force in my life up to this point. Its power over people has proven to be palpable. And I did not just type that sentence for the alliteration; the people that allow Cheley to become a profound and important aspect of their being reap almost unlimited benefits, ranging from things as simple as coming to appreciate warm water while showering, to developing the most intense and significant bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood that one can make in a lifetime. Its beauty, both physical and beyond, is sublime and profound. With the obvious exception of campers growing up and growing out of their camper years at camp (which became really obvious to me this year since I have been removed for quite some time now), Cheley has remained almost completely unchanged since I first breathed its air and felt its quiet allure some four summers ago. I know my description of it probably sounds extremely hyperbolic, but I mean everything I am saying with the utmost seriousness. Cheley is a constant, a shield, a blessing, a powerful force, an enigma, and so much more. It’s hard for me to describe what I really feel inside of myself about it to people who haven’t experienced it, partially because of their own lack of experience, but also because I still don’t fully know the extent of what it means to me or what lessons it has taught me. One thing I know for sure is that my years with Cheley have instilled in me a sense of adventure, an undying bold spirit that finds pleasure in pushing my own boundaries. Semester at Sea is a response to that, an outlet for my excess energy and the listlessness I have developed over the last several weeks. The Cheley Experience transcends time and place, as the people I have met and encountered there have shown me that no matter how much time we spend away from one another, we will always return to each other. And even if we don’t as soon as we would hope or like, we carry each other and our experiences within ourselves, and for that I will always, always be grateful. Thank you to my amazing, incredible, and life-changing camp friends, Iron Men of Haiyaha and otherwise, for sharing this past weekend with me; it was by far the best I’ve had all year.

So, now what? I’ve just over a week left in my apartment here in the Springs before I move out and go home to Aspen for a few days with my parents before Canada and Embarkation Day. All’s quiet around here, as Summer Session has ended and most of my friends have moved out, only to return when school starts again in September. All I really have left to do is to finish my final paper for class, which has a deadline of September 30^th (?), and pack up what’s left of my things, mostly consisting of clothes and books. Colorado Springs, though I have many justifiable grievances with it, is becoming home thanks to its undeniable familiarity and my many astounding friends. When Semester at Sea is drawing to a close, I am certain I will be most excited to return to Colorado College because of my enormous passion for the school and its people. I missed it at least a little bit while I was gone these past three weekends.

I’m beyond glad I took all three of these trips. I have a new found appreciation for the familiar, but also am ready to experience the similar challenges and tribulations that each of these places have thrust upon me while I literally embark on a pursuit of global knowledge and adventure. I’ve also been able to think about my intents behind this upcoming semester. I want to experience life on the edge, life without handlebars or training wheels. I want to throw myself headfirst at every plausible experience I can possibly find and reap each and every reward. I want to feel the highest highs and the lowest lows and grow from both. I want every sense of mine to be overwhelmed and confused and excited and scared and nervous and anxious and pleasured and more. I want to be rattled and shaken down to the densest of my bones and feel my core adapt and shift to the world around me. I want to laugh and cry, hug and kiss, eat and drink, dance and sing, and immerse myself as fully as possible. I want to jump into the deep end, flounder and sink, but float back up to the surface triumphantly. I want to be challenged and feel uncomfortable and disheartened and unsure. I want, by the end of the voyage, to look at myself and my reflection in the never ending ocean and see a different person from the beginning of the voyage because my new self is more of who I am supposed to be in this life than who I am right now. And that, my friends, is what travel should be all about.

Thank you to my homes of Aspen, Virginia, and Cheley, and my newest homes of Colorado College and Colorado Springs for everything you have given me. What I have gained from each will be what I utilize on this voyage as I venture and explore the world before me. In just 13 days, everything I find familiar and comfortable will slowly fade away as I fly to Canada. And in 17 days, when the ship is finally setting sail, all I know will be completely stripped away for the semester, and the journey of a lifetime, a journey of incredible global and personal discovery, will begin.

A Completely Ordinary Day

If the title of this post hasn't scared you away yet, then keep reading, because I promise that my clever word play, dastardly witticisms, and florid adjectives will keep you on your toes until the very end. I hope. I mean, I am an English major, so I think I know how to spin a tale or two or five. Anyway, read on about my plain, completely ordinary day!

Like most people, I began the day by being jolted awake at 9 A.M. by the rudimentary buzz of my cell phone alarm clock. "Blast!" I thought to myself as I stretched myself out on the tan and blue sheets of my bed (which isn't actually mine; I'm just a lowly sub-letter [who still needs to pay the utility bill, OOPS!]). I considered skipping class today because I had a horrendous headache, which was obviously caused by a hangover since I drank last night because I drink every night since I'm a borderline-alcoholic (otherwise known as a "college student"). That last sentence was not true, sans for the portion about the headache. I really did have a headache that felt similar to lighting bolts constantly flashing inside my head. I WAS NOT HUNGOVER (you can stop worrying now, Mom). (Unrelated, I feel like I'm using a lot of parenthetical asides. Oh, well. Story of my overly-verbose-English-major life). Anyway, after contemplating drilling something into my temples to get rid of the pain, I crawled out of bed, hobbled over to the kitchen in a blinded fog, took two Aleve, and hoped for clear-headedness by the time I made it to class. Turning around and past the corner of my apartment's little hallway, I made it to the bathroom. I didn't throw up! Now do you believe me when I say I wasn't hungover? I hope so. So, standing there in the bathroom in just my boxer briefs, I flashed my pearly whites at myself in the mirror. Damn, I look good! The MV Explorer won't know whats hit it when I board! But really. To keep those teeth lookin' so fresh, so clean (thanks OutKast), I had to brush. Two minutes of vigorous up and down and side to side movements later, I spat and smiled again. SWOON! Apparently, all of this took longer than I thought, so when I looked at the clock, it was 9:26 A.M. Shit! Class is in four minutes and I'm still in just my underwear! Now, I knew the four girls in my class certainly wouldn't mind if I showed up in (almost) the buff, but they're in high school, and 16/17-year old girls aren't really my steez, so I used my better judgment and threw on some clothes. Out the door at 9:27, I scurried up Cache La Poudre St towards Pikes Peak in a failed attempt to make it to Armstrong for class by 9:30. Didn't happen. Instead, I sauntered into class, as cool and collected as I possibly could, at a solid 9:36. My professor didn't seem to care, so I didn't either. The next two and a half hours was class, so I fed my SAS-addiction further by researching some more about my ports of call...I mean, I was attentive and made excellent points about the dualities found in Peter Pan, as well as the nature of the character of Wendy in relation to the men in the story. Those high school chicks sure wish I showed up naked at this point. "Smart AND sexy AND studying in college? SAM IS PERFECT!" were on their minds during class today, I'm sure, but not really; I just wanted to use some cool alliteration. 

After class let up at Noon, I quickly walked up Tejon St to Central Services to see if I had any mail. Nothing! No letters, no packages, no fan mail, not even a love note. Shucks. Dejected, I walked to the Library to learn how to do a screen capture on a computer from a film for my paper that I have to write for tomorrow. 0 words down, 1,000 to go. Turns out, I already knew how since it's the same as it is on my laptop.  Winning! Realizing I had no reason to be there anymore, I blazed out of the Library. Lately, I've been feeling pretty antsy about my visas and passport. I sent them a while ago, shouldn't Pinnacle Travel Document Services be done processing them? I called them to see what was up. A receptionist picked up, but failed to connect me to the proper person. Annoyed, I walked home to my apartment. I was wearing a tank top, so the sun beat down on my pasty white shoulders, meaning I'll hopefully have some kind of tan soon. Or I'll probably end up looking like a raw lobster. Sup, Skin Cancer!?

I made it to my door and noticed a little slip of paper hanging on the side. It was from FedEx. Somebody came by with a package for me while my roommates and I were out this morning. At first, I wondered what somebody might have sent to me. A letter? A package? Fan mail? A love note? I began calling some friends with the request of driving me to the FedEx location on the slip, a ten minute drive up by Garden of the Gods. After a few failed attempts, I finally got in touch with the one, the only, Mr. Zachary Luna. I explained my plight to Zach and inquired about a ride, to which he obliged. How kind of him! He picked me up a little while later, and the two of us set off on an adventure in the big bad world of non-CC Bubble/Downtown Colorado Springs. WE WERE ATTACKED BY FOCUS ON THE FAMILY! AHHHH! Okay, not true. The drive was really short, actually, but biking there would've probably ended with me in the hospital with several broken bones. Upon arrival, Zach and I meandered inside. I showed my shiny new Colorado drivers license, signed a form, and waited for the mystery package to be brought to me. When the nice lady brought it out, I noticed the label in the corner. It read "Pinnacle Travel Document Services" and came from a Washington, D.C. address. This could only mean one thing: MY VISAS FOR GHANA, INDIA, AND CHINA, AND MY PASSPORT HAD ARRIVED!!!!!!!! The clerk must've noticed it came from a travel service, so she asked if I was going anywhere fun. I humbly responded "Everywhere. Canada, Morocco, Ghana, South Africa, Mauritius, India, Malaysia, Vietnam, China, Japan, Hawai'i, Costa Rica, the Panama Canal, Cuba, and Florida." She was impressed. Zach and I left the store, and as soon as the automatic doors shut behind me, I let out an uninhibited scream of pure joy and excitement. I tore open the package and took out my passport, now filled with the visas of Ghana, India, and China, and held it tightly in my hand for the entire trip home. I returned home feeling victorious, but then I remembered something: I still have 1,000 words to write by tomorrow. Damn.

One month until the adventure officially begins!

There's a picture of and signature from 16-year old Sam. Things have improved since.

How's Your Aspen?

Mine's great, thank you. In fact, so great that I wish I could've spent just a little bit longer in my lovely mountain home. I left early this morning to go to another SAS-related event: a "Bon Voyage/Welcome Home" Reception for students and alumni. There were six Fall 2011 students there, myself included, and, yeah, you guessed it, ALL NERVOUS. Whatev. We're gonna be a-okay. Anyway, ASPEN. I miss it! Yeah, so what if it's a postcard? So what if isn't a real place that's consistent with the rest of reality? So what if I sold Felicity Huffman chocolate last summer (she's SO nice)? IT'S MY HOME, DAMMIT, AND I HAD A GREAT WEEKEND VISITING. I did (almost) all of my favorite things with (almost) all of my favorite people, and I can't wait to be back in August before leaving for Canada.

Is it really home, though? I mean, the majority of my time these days is spent in Colorado Springs, land of the Religious Right, locale to a United States Military installation on all sides of the city, home of gap-toothed homeless drug addicts. Okay, stereotypes aside, the Springs is nice...for a time. Perhaps I'm being cynical. Perhaps I'm jaded. Or perhaps I'm rambling. Pontifications on my aforementioned aside aside (ha), I spend most of my days here in the Springs, but I pay taxes in Pitkin County and have an Aspen address. I grew up in Virginia, though, and I'm going there on Friday (!!!) for my best friend's birthday. That will always be home. Really, though, what is home? What is the concept of home? I feel like I'm getting too abstract and/or metaphysical for this blog, but it's my blog, so for all you logic-y types, I apologize, but you can go look elsewhere for a blog more based in reality, cause goodness knows I am not the most pragmatic thinker in the world.

I'm wondering about home because as Semester at Sea looms ever closer on the proverbial horizon, I expect it will shift my perception even further. Maybe I'll be even more illogical after the voyage is over! I'll try not to be, though, because I'm not sure if I could completely handle that. I don't even know what I'm talking about at this point. I'm really hungry. 

HUNGRY. Also, minimal chest hair exposure. More underneath the shirt. GOD, SAM, YOU'RE SUCH A TEASE. But really.

New Layout!

Hey, goons! I mean, readers! Yeah! Y'all are readers. That is, if anybody still checks this, because I'm certain my entries are far less exciting since I'm not traveling at the moment. I bet my mom is reading this. Hi, Mom! We just talked on the phone. It was nice.


Anyway! Look at my blog! There's a new layout! And if you look over to the side, you can see a little tool where you can enter your e-mail address that lets you subscribe to my blog in order to receive updates as I write entries. Neat-o! Isn't technology just great?


That's pretty much it. I mean, I could talk to you about Human Sexual Behavior since I finished it yesterday, but that could get very inappropriate very fast, so I'll spare all of you the salacious details. 


44 days, folks! 


P.S. I've edited the settings on here so that anybody can leave a comment now. I wasn't aware I had it so only people with blogs on here could. Somebody should leave me a comment on this so I know it works. C'mon. Humor me here. Make me feel like I actually have friends. That'd be nice.

Lunch, Dinner, and Shots

No, not shots as in alcohol. Shots as in immunizations. Five of them. Polio, Japanese Encephalitis, Yellow Fever, Hepatitis A, and Rabies. On Friday. My arms hurt. They're worth it, though, because now I won't be turned away from the ship and/or any of the countries we go to! I also got pills for Typhoid and a prescription for Malaria medication. I hope that covers all the possible diseases that I could get! I'd really rather not come back to the USA with some kind of weird incurable sickness from Southeast Asia, or something.


Last Saturday, I spent the day with other SAS students and alumni. I woke up and hitched a ride with my friend to Boulder and ate at Red Lion, a well-known (and very tasty) restaurant in Boulder Canyon. While I was there, I met two other people I'm sailing with this fall! 

There were also speakers, a band, and some games outside. At the end of the event, I got a world map for my room. Looking at it and mapping out where I am going is quickly becoming my favorite activity. After lunch was over, I hitched a ride with one of my new friends into Boulder, met my friend at her work, enjoyed some ice cream, and walked to the bus stop so I could make it to Denver for dinner. While I was waiting, two other guys met up with me and we all bussed down together. Once we got to Denver, we walked to Rock Bottom Brewery on 16th Street Mall for dinner and enjoyed a nice meal together. There were a total of 6 of us, all from different places and schools (except for two from CSU in Fort Collins), and despite not having known one another at the beginning of the night, we ended up staying and talking and sharing stories and laughing for somewhere around 3 hours. It was easily one of the best meals I've had all summer. Afterwards, we all parted ways and I bussed back alone to the Springs, falling asleep in my seat thinking about how this fall continues to loom closer and closer on the horizon.

From these two events, I realized there are REAL people (not just Facebook profiles) in the exact same boat as me (pun somewhat intended). We're all nervous, we're all anxious, we're all scared, and we're all more excited than we ever have been before. It'll be nice to legitimately know some people upon arrival to Montréal, which will be on August 22 for me!  Summer is ticking away, which I usually would be upset about, but in this case, it's totally fine. I never thought I would say that and actually believe it. First time for everything, I suppose!

Summer in the Springs

Summer is great. You have your own place in a decently sized, albeit painfully sprawling and conservative, city. You are taking a great class entitled "18th Century British Satire," which you believe are doing very well in, and have two more equally awesome classes, Human Sexual Behavior and the Myth of Peter Pan in Literature and Film, to look forward to once this one is finished. You have an internship. More friends than you expected are living within walking distance of your apartment. You found out you were awarded a $4,000 scholarship to basically blog and report back to America while studying abroad. You have a bike and enough friends with cars to get you places. You've started practicing yoga. The weather is great. You are heading to Denver next weekend for Pride. Everyone is chill. The world, dear readers, is at your fingertips.




Except for one painful reality. YOU HAVE NO JOB AND, THEREFORE, VERY LITTLE MONEY. This is a problem. Oh, and also, you aren't in London. Or traveling the globe. Instead, your days are spent doing homework, reconnecting with old friends that you really did miss while across the Pond, and slaving away at an unpaid internship with a very small non-profit. I keep reminding myself that it's a "stepping stone for bigger and better internships in bigger and better cities doing bigger and better things NEXT summer," but that can only keep you sane for so long when you spend your Saturday morning, your delicious hot fudge sundae of oversleep to end off a hard week of class, folding newspapers. FOR FIVE HOURS. 




Ha. Hahahaha. Forgive my contemptuous, acrimonious, and slightly arrogant attitude, but I have bigger things awaitin'. At least I'm realizing that non-profits a'int my steez. At the end of the day, though, at least I HAVE an internship. Plus, I'm working for a good cause. So, in reality, there are benefits.




Truthfully, though, I love summer in Colorado Springs, despite my less-than-ideal job/economic situation. However, I feel like I'm putting less energy into actual, tangible things that are right in front of me, and instead find myself floating off into abstractions relating to this fall. I certainly have been reminiscing about Europe, too.






I got an A- in Drama Away. I got an A- for going to London. I'll take that.