Students

Students aren't perfect. As an education major, I know that.

But there are things that make me wonder: "What are you doing here?"

Franciscan students aren't perfect.

But when an underage student wakes another student at three in the morning so she can get into the dorm, and it turns out she's so drunk she can barely walk?

That's when it becomes clear that there's no logical reason for those students to be at a school like this.

This is a top tier university, academically and morally.

If you're getting so drunk you can't make it to class in the morning, you're pulling down the university in both ways.

On top of that, you're pulling yourself down.

And the rules you follow? You go overboard. "Quiet hours" doesn't mean "Shut up and don't make any noise at all ever."

Why waste the time and the crapton of money that it costs to be here? If you are so desperate to get out that you're breaking the rules that will get you kicked out, there's a much easier way. Just leave. It's not worth your time.

And it's not worth making the other students miserable or making them hate being here as much as you obviously do.

You want respect? You have to earn it.

BitterSweet

You've been gone for months

And when you’re gone, I wander like a zombie, surviving only on sheer willpower and the determination to prove that I won’t let this take me back into that sucking, dark, endless hole

But still

When you’re gone, the light is gone from the day, like in Sweden or Norway or Alaska when the sun forgets to shine in the winter and nothing is alive and all turns to grays and blacks.

When you’re gone, the birds flee from their perches and fly south for the season (spring, summer, fall, winter, or even the in between mix of all three).

But when you come back

The sun shines brightly enough for ever the man blind from birth to see

The birds sing the most glorious songs

And the weather! A day at the beach, lounging in the tumultuous stormy grey foam, rolling about in the sand, mindless of the long long shower that will be needed to clean the sand from every crevice, every strand of hair on our heads.

The days are spent idly lying in your arms, feeling the whisper of your lips on my cheek, shoulder, neck, lips

It’s an endless Indian summer, and I can’t do anything but bask in the warmth of your love.

It’s bittersweet, with the winter of your leaving blowing gently through the trees

But bittersweet is still sweet

And even when you leave

Your scent lingers on the air

Your taste lingers on my lips

And even if I don’t know when

I know you’ll be back.