A White Utopia
It snowed today. It SNOWED today. For those of you who’re going “so what”, this is Tucson. It hasn’t snowed here in a few years. Min looked out of the window and let out a little scream of “it’s snowing!”. It’s her first time seeing snow. Funny, considering that she has been to Canada. The white Christmas atmosphere lasted all of ten minutes, at most. It reverted back to good old rain when the sun peeked its head out from behind the clouds.
Min and I went to McKale Center to watch the Cats play Washington. The atmosphere wasn’t as exciting as the UCLA game as we pretty much maintained a lead most of the night.
Before the game Min had some language experiment at the Communication building. I stood in the corridor, waiting for her to finish it so that we could head down to McKale together. Walking down the corridor of the old building brought up familiar feelings. I had the same feeling when I walked in the musty corridors of the Physics and Atmospheric Sciences building (PAS). I remember peeking into the little rooms and seeing the elaborate setup of test-tubes and thermometers forming a Camelot of crystal. I sometimes wonder if I took the right path in life. Rather, whether I’m about to take the right path. The world of business and the academic world are indeed worlds apart. The stark, clean look of McClelland Hall which was home to the Business College felt rather cold and impersonal. Whenever I walk through its halls I feel a need to watch my back, to be “on top of my game”. The old buildings of PAS and Communications felt so much more homely. It was a utopia away from the real world, where theories were made and tested, sometimes for the sheer fun of discovery.
The more I read about the philosophy of Aristotle, Plato and Socrates, the poetry of Lucan, Homer and Dante I see a world I can manipulate and change. A place where I can make a difference. I’m soon to be admitted into the Management Information Systems program for good, and to be honest, I’m afraid. While I know that I’m not adverse to programming and the like, I do know it does not stimulate me like the arts of dialectic or poetry. I stand at the crossroads, and I really don’t know.