the end is always near...I was about fifteen and I was excited because instead of facing yet another day of social studies, and geometry, and typical high-school stress, I was going on a field trip. Carrying nothing more than a classic black and white composition notebook and a purse, I felt free and light as I boarded the Big Yellow School Bus and took my seat near the emergency exit.
It was Liberal Arts Day at Ball State University and anyone thinking of pursuing a liberal arts degree in college was eligible to go. Ten of us boarded the bus. (My high school had a retention rate of about 40%.) I didn't want to go to Ball State, but I signed up for the trip anyway because I had just read a biography on David Letterman and was very intrigued by him. Since he had once attended school there and was still an active financial supporter, I figured that there at least was a slight chance he might happen to be on campus that day. Plus, my teacher told me that if I wanted to be an English Major when I went to college, that I was considered a liberal arts student, so this would be a great experience for me. (I thought he said liberal artist and that's how I referred to myself until I was corrected much later in life.)
The trip down wasn't very pleasant. For three hours our Big Yellow School bus traveled down the Indiana highway which was in the middle of major construction. We hit every single pot hole and at one point we were stuck in Kokomo or somewhere for half an hour. The fumes from the bus and the sun, which reflected brightly off of the icy snow which still covered everything, gave me a headache. A slight one. At first.
Due to the construction, we arrived late to the program. A total of about one hundred honor roll students from across Indiana were crammed into one little corner of a cafeteria for the "Ball State Welcome". Everyone stared at us as we walked in. My heart was racing; I didn't like to be stared at. As soon as we sat down, they made us stand back up. It was time to attend our "classes". They handed each of us a schedule. To my horror, none of us from my high school had the same schedule. We were on our own.
Of course I couldn't find any of my classrooms and of course, I didn't want to be late, even though they never told us what our punishment would be. So, still wearing my big fat overstuffed winter coat (there wasn't a place for us to keep them) I ran up and down the halls looking for my class. Sweating, head now pounding, somehow I made it to my pretend classes.
I remember sitting through strange lecture after strange lecture in very cramped quarters. With my coat off I was wet and freezing cold. With it on, I was sweating and unable to bend my arms. After each mock lecture we had to take a mock test. Even though they used the word "mock" freely, I was a nervous wreck. I wasn't quite sure if this test could be used against me or not.
By the time they allowed us to have a lunch break, it was time for us to go back home. My head hurt so badly that I thought I had spontaneous brain tumor. Once on the bus, I finally could relax. While everyone screamed and laughed, I leaned my head against the window of the Big Yellow Bus and tried to will my headache away. The coolness of the window paired with the gentle vibration of our motion down the highway, helped to make my head hurt a bit less.
The day was pretty much a bust for me. I didn't see David Letterman and I was put through more tests than the average pre-med student takes during finals. To make matters worse, I never even found out my scores on any one of those stupid tests. And I did my best. I doubt it they were ever even graded.
Juxtapostion: my new baja and freshly fallen snow...
Wonderfully warm slippers from my mother-in-law, shea butter infused socks (a gift as well...very strange...there is lotion built into the socks...but I like 'em a lot) , and 3 inch thick fleece pj bottoms also from my mother-in-law. She likes to keep me warm! My dogs think I am one big fluffy chew-toy. 
