Alex's Blog

Being a Sophomore at UT has its own specific challenges and subtle enjoyments. In honor of James Agee, I verbosely listed a few.

Money. My roommates and I live well and happily (see below), but have to be creative in some areas to do so. Like furniture. Who needs a real desk anyway? I've never realized before how much it truly costs just to keep me alive and reasonably clean. My poor parents. Rent is a huge part of my budget, but that was expected, so it seems like less. (Like college tuition. How did we get into this situation? Are we really paying $80,000 to learn a skill? Whatever happened to apprenticeships? Was there anything really wrong with that? But I saw that one coming, so, again, it seems less.) The difficult one for me to handle is food. I like food. Food is good. I eat a lot of food. I have friends who tell me I eat more food than they thought was humanly possible. I used to just laugh those types of comments off, but now I cringe and agree. My grocery bills are huge. Last month, I almost actually "ate myself out of house and home." Literally. I came about $50 away from eating so much that I couldn't pay rent. And do you remember all of those things that just magically appeared in your house when you needed them? Like toothpaste, toilet paper, hot sauce if you're in my family, laundry detergent and/or clean underwear...the list goes on. No one told me that those things don't just magically appear. You actually have to buy them, and what's worse, you actually have to remember to buy them. It's a terrible feeling, staring at your pantry, realizing you forgot to buy soap again, and trying to decide whether or not you want to pay outrageous prices at the on-campus store, run to the strip and be late to class, or show up smelling like you have been resurrected after a couple days underground. And I don't know if you've heard, but gas costs a lot. It's funny, the things that I suddenly have come to consider "within biking distance." The strip, downtown, friend's houses, over the river, Kroger, Nashville...

Class. Class suddenly gets harder Sophomore year. I swear to you. I took eighteen hours or something like that last year for both semesters, and I decided to take it easy this semester, so I have thirteen. I think my grades are actually worse. Maybe I'm just upset about this today because we got our organic tests back. We will not discuss this matter further.Friends. When you are a freshman, you kind of have friends shoved down your throat. There are so many school-sponsored events, and even if you don't go to any of them, you have thousands of people living down the hall from you, and you will most likely meet at least one of them. Sophomore year is harder. I have had a hard time and have been pretty slow about making friends. I feel like my friend group exploded at the end of last year and scattered throughout the city. There are a few people in my building, but now we have to be a lot more intentional about it if we want to see each other. I actually have to use my phone. I have to drive (or bike--see above) to see them.

Deciding on a major. You know, the reason I'm here and everything. Eventually I will have to start studying something. I'm not quite sure just what. I wish I had more to say about this. "It's a typical situation in a typical town--too many choices."

Marriage. People I know keep getting engaged, which I hear, when left untreated, could eventually lead to a marriage. I am co-best man in my middle brother's and best friends' (two of them, marrying each other) weddings. I think that counts the same as a full best man for one wedding. Four other couples I know have gotten engaged recently. This is a strange phenomenon, and somewhat challenging for a variety of reasons, which leads me to my next point.

Actually growing up. People keep getting jobs, starting and ending relationships, graduating, failing out, and otherwise moving on. Everything happens so fast. It's hard to keep up, and it's harder to slow down to enjoy things. I feel like Alice, eating cake and drinking potion, and I can't quite find the right equilibrium. I don't know what to tell you. College is transitional. You aren't quite grown up, but you aren't truly a child either. You have to find the balance between making something of yourself and actually enjoying the life you have. But, c'est la vie.

Most of the time, I feel like, in balancing this equilibrium, most of the joys and beauties of life are subtle, but powerful. It's easy to forget or pass over them unnoticed as you're dealing with the problems that can easily conquer and overwhelm you. Tomorrow night, I plan to watch war movies with a friend of mine while eating potatoes and salsa--today was cold, and I wore my new jacket. I went to the library to study and saw about twenty people I know who performed the vital role of distracting me from studying--a few days ago, I went to the cereal bar in the old city with of couple of my friends from high school. I got lucky charms and a cream soda, and we played board games until two in the morning.

I know I have been kind of quiet for a while--let me explain. My life this year has been school and church.

I had a first round of tests last week, and before that I spent obscene amounts of time studying. If you are a high school student, then you know how, at most schools, teachers accidentally pile assignments on top of each other. You have two papers due on the same day, a test the next day...whatever it is. In college, the professors do this on purpose, just to confuse you, and give these weeks special names like "midterms" or "finals" in an attempt to legitimize their malevolence. This is my theory, anyway.

I don't know how everyone else deals with these four weeks of the year, but I drink more coffee, sleep less, smoke more, and study through weekends. Others plan ahead and get things done in time to enjoy life. This, I believe, is a genetic skill that I have not inherited, but I'm not complaining. My way has its perks, like finally taking a break after hours of reading grotesquely large words that all end in "-ane" or "-anol" and doing something (anything!) else.

Like going to church. I've been going to a church called Fellowship. It's big, but most of the people filling the sanctuary every week are excited to be there, which is good, I think. The music sounds like they know much of their congregation is in some way related to UT, and the teaching sounds familiar, like I've read it somewhere before... These are also good things. Apart from that, I'm still really enjoying RUF. They have these bible study and "fellowship groups" for upperclassmen, and I went once just to check it out. I've been back every week since. All of my really close friends either go to RUF or Fellowship, which is great, because I get to see them at least every week.

Starting my sophomore year of school feels like coming up for air, or anything else that's entirely familiar but still exhilarating and almost needed. I walk down the sidewalks here, and I'm seeing the same people I knew last year, walking the same streets, in the same town, in the same way, but something is definitely new, and I suppose since nothing else has changed much, I'm the variable.

This summer, I took a job as an intern for this Memphis-based company called OneEight, led by a guy named Steve. Basically we talked about four things for three months: Who is God? How do we worship Him? What is the Gospel? and What is church? Obviously, we answered those questions pretty quickly (like in ten minutes), so we played kickball and Call of Duty for the next three months.

But actually, we talked about those three questions for a while, and did some service work in the meantime so that our heads wouldn't explode from thinking so much. We got to teach English to the coolest and most beautiful kids ever. Apparently Memphis has a huge refugee population, and the kids we were teaching/running around with were from a country named Burundi in Eastern Africa, right below Rwanda. That was a lot of fun. We also got to go participate in a ministry called SOS there, in Memphis, building houses. Our home owner's name is Mrs. Mary, and she took us all to Shoney's at the end of the week, which was tasty. She and our crew leader, Emily, had to put up with all of my jokes all week. They are both strong people.

At the end of the summer, we went to Turkey to see some people over there. Istanbul is huge, by the way. That trip, the people who were with me, and this summer, have changed my life forever. I want to thank David, Ryan, Pace, Steve, Ashley, Katie, Elise, and Heather for loving God and impacting me. Also, I would like to say congratulations to Adam and Heather on their engagement. It's not very often that two of your best friends get engaged to each other, so congratulations.

If you want to know more about my summer, check out the MissionLeader website at www.missionleader.com. That was my other job for the summer.

So now I'm back at school, and trying to transition back into the academic world. I'm taking Organic Chemistry and Cellular Biology among other things this semester, which is oddly exciting to me. Organic is supposed to be pretty rough, so I'm excited to see if I have what it takes to be a pre-med student here at UT. Honestly, it's great to be back. As I was driving back into Knoxville, as soon as the skyline came into site, I couldn't help but smile ear to ear thinking about all of the things I can do this year, all of the people I can meet and get to know, all the ways my life will probably change, and all of the moments from this semester that will pass into memory to remind me for the rest of my life of the time I'm about to have.

I have to give my friend Elise credit, even though I would like to take it, for a few of the photos: the one where Pace and I are sitting on the bench at Yeditepe looking out over the city and the one where I'm picking up the kid. Some random lady took the one in the Hagia Sophia with the four of us guys. Thanks to you, too, random lady. My picture is of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. The fact that I'm wearing the same shirt in every picture is mere coincidence, I promise.

For the past two weeks, I've been listening to Elliot Smith, smoking too much, sleeping too little, and wearing myself thin.

I'm sitting at my desk right now, buried in ink and dusty hardbacks, next to a half-empty bottle of Mountain Dew and a box of Cheez-Its. I turned in twenty pages of research this morning and took a physics test at eight. Went to bed at two, woke up at five to study, but for now, I am done. What's more, that was the last push. I'm three exams and a portfolio away from falling asleep on a flight home.

This year has flown by, and I know people always say that, but it has. I've met so many people and started so many relationships that it will be strange to go home and not have any of them around me anymore. I've learned more in the past two semesters than in my four years of high school. I've written well over two-hundred pages for different classes/blogs/job applications and read...well, a lot. I've spent countless hours either on the phone or on Facebook with my friends from high school. And the time that I've spent purposefully not doing any of those things accounts for most of my college career thus far.

To those of you who are still deciding whether or not to come to UT:
No matter where you go, it will turn out in a way that you can't predict and don't expect. This is not to say that it's not a life-changing decision and you shouldn't bother about it. It's only to say that college won't change your life the way you thought it would, so if you are looking for the one place that will make you happy and give you everything you ever wanted, it doesn't exist. You have to get that from somewhere else. Choose a college based upon the one you think will give you the most opportunity to change.

To those of you who are coming to UT next year:
I'll see you then. I hope that, after a year, this university means as much to you as it does to me. I hope you meet people here who will change the course of your life forever. I hope you find who you are here, and, what's more important, find something or someone to which you can give your life. In short, I hope that you find contentment. Let me know if I can help.

To everyone else (Mom, Dad, brothers, friends, employers, and those UT students who are bored out of their minds and surfing the site):
Thank you for giving me a constant audience and a purpose in writing. I'll see you next year, unless you are my family, in which case I will see you in a week.

Yes, I did steal this title from Joyce Carol Oates. This is my answer to Ashley's questions from "The List" post. I started typing and realized that it would be a little to long as a comment, and that other people might want to hear it, too.

Ashley,

Thanks for your questions, because they are good ones, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you.

Personally, I have barely even heard of Ignite. That might have something to do with the fact that the start of my college career was a bit crazy. I went to orientation after attending an entire term of summer classes. Honestly, no one I have ever talked to has either loved orientation to death or said anything about Ignite. Orientation is free. I would say do orientation, and get it over with in two days. It's not that orientation is unnecessary or poorly organized, but it's really awkward and lonely, and all I wanted to do the whole time was start school and figure things out on my own. It's pretty propaganda-heavy, and I just don't understand, because those students are already attending.

As for the teachers, I think UT is like anywhere else. They all put ads in their catalogs talking about how personal their faculty is, and how much help you will get, and how they invite you over to their house to eat almost every weekend. This is false. I think the alumni feed prospective students the opposite story, because they either want to think that they went through hell to earn their degree, or they buy into the other college catalogs and think that every other college is the University of Pleasantville. This, too, is false. The truth is, college professors are a lot like high school teachers, only sometimes with bigger classes.

I have had professors who don't care, and laugh off any questions anyone has, unwilling to give any serious help. I have had professors who have some serious rage issues and are downright vindictive. There are always those professors who just don't understand how much work they are giving or how much we are having to do to simply keep up. Those professors are usually fun in class, but you hate them after you get out.

On the other hand, I have had professors who show genuine concern for people who are doing poorly in their classes, asking them questions, giving any type of help they can. My psychology professor last semester gave me advice about what type of record player I should buy for my girlfriend's Christmas present. My American Literature professor canceled a week's worth of classes before the midterm and final papers were due so that he could spend however long we needed to go over our drafts and talk about the themes and characters of the novels we were writing about. He even went over my first couple of blog entries with me and gave me advice on where to go next. I've had professors recommend books for me to read, talk to me about my home life, talk to me about God, about my writing, about my plans for the future. I have had plenty of professors and TAs that felt more like extremely intelligent friends than they did professors, because they were so personable and helpful.

Some of these personable professors were the ones in my big lecture classes. Some of the worst classes I've been in only had ten people. Don't worry about blending into the crowd. If you don't want to, then you won't. Just don't be afraid to speak up.

Does any of this help?

So, in answer to your question, either the faculty has changed its tune in the past fifty years, or you are getting some bad advice. I know this is what you expect me to say, but keep in mind that my friends read this, too, and I would be laughed out of the dorm if I wrote anything that wasn't true. If any current student reads this and has had a different experience, feel free to let all of us know.

The week before spring break, UT's campus surges, almost comes alive, with the unspoken yet palpable excitement of scattering in every direction. It's the same way you feel after three hours of cigarettes and coffee: nothing matters so much as the people you love, conversation, and the freedom to move around.

Most of my friends went home to see everyone they have missed, to spend some time pretending that they won't have to start school again in a few days. Their drive is long and tantalizing, as when they were younger waiting for Six Flags or Disney Land, now they can't wait to get home. They will count the mile markers on the side of the road. "Only 46 miles to go; maybe I can go a little faster." Maybe parents or siblings are waiting for them at the end of the drive, close friends, a coffee shop, a street, a church. These things define home. It has very little to do with a building or a bed.

The smell of cheap cigars, for many reasons, always gives me the sense that whatever I was waiting for is here. My dad always smokes the same Backwoods. That's my smell, and I am incomplete without it. I suppose driving home feels like becoming more clearly myself, if that makes any sense. I am funnier/smarter/more with my brothers and with my parents. Home is exciting for this reason.
I've been excited for a month about the break. Last week was unbearable. I'd had too many cigarettes, too much coffee, and my hands were beginning to shake. I needed to get out. I almost skipped my classes on Thursday, but I figured one of my professors (huge lecture, hundreds of people missing on Thursday) would give a quiz, which she did. I tried to go to all of my classes that day and failed at this goal. I only got half-way through the last one before bailing and walking out mid-lecture, and I never skip class. The sun was just too bright to ignore. If they want people to go to class an hour before spring break, then they should put fewer windows in the classrooms.

My girlfriend, wonderful as she is, picked me up ten minutes later and took me to Nashville. I have some family there, so we stayed overnight. I flew out early the next morning to New Orleans and spent a few days with my parents, an honorary uncle, my brothers, and their girlfriends before leaving for a conoeing trip with my dad. The trip was amazing in both the conversation and the quiet, but six days and a sunburn later, I'm ready to get back to school.

The trip back to school is exciting in a different way. When you leave home for school, a part of you stays behind with your family, friends, and the city itself. It's hard to describe having your heart in two different places, but it's both splitting and fulfilling. In many ways, it's like falling in love. You don't forget your family, but your energy, your thought, and your time all go towards someone new. You begin to start your own life, become independent. You don't forget your family and past, though. It's still a part of you. It's what has made you who you are.

I know you aren't supposed to analyze things this much while you're on spring break, but I went conoeing for three days. All you do is sit there and paddle for hours at a time.

I feel like the world moves faster than I can perceive it, and even as a freshman in college, I am getting too old to keep up with it. Toni Morrison, in Beloved, says that a man can get "bone tired." He can feel a kind of fatigue that seeps deeper than muscle, into the marrow, and on, into the soul. Can't you feel it? Every morning it gets harder to step down from my bed, as I lay there thinking about all of the work I have in front of me, all of the people I want to spend time with, the books I would read if I had time, the movies I want to see, classes I want to take, trips, summer jobs, careers, relationships. It weighs so heavily some days that it's hard to sit up. Everything goes so quickly, and every once in a while, I just need to slow down. I need to be still, to let myself sink, fall to the bottom. To say, "Let the world rage around me, I am going to be here for a moment." Sometimes it's not until you let yourself be taken under that you can actually take a full breath.

I spent this past weekend at Fall Creek Falls state park at the RUF winter retreat, and if nature is good for anything, it's breathing. Fall Creek Falls is one of the most beautiful places on earth. I swear to you, the pictures do not do it justice. Half of the beauty is in the feel. Imagine finally crowning a peak in the trail, and hearing, for the first time, the sound of rushing water. Or, imagine picking your way down a dangerous slope for an hour, and legs shaking, exhausted, you step out onto a river bank, forests and falls in every direction. I had been there before this weekend, with my scout troop a few times, and then with two friends over the spring break of my senior year in high school. Every time I go, I see something new. Every time, there is something more for me to learn, and some deeper aspect of God etched into the stone or growing in the trees.

This weekend reminded me constantly about one of the better aspects of starting a college career. It's not anything physical, but it's not an experience either. It's more of a change in perception, and your perception, your construal, changes the actuality of everything around you. I have no clue when I started to change, and I almost missed it in my hurry. I didn't take the time to notice my mind shifting.

I'm not the only one who has changed since high school. Some people become better students. Some stop working, others work too hard at too many things. Some dodge from vice to vice to avoid noticing a change. Some, like me, admit to confusion and little else. All of these reactions have the same driving force behind them: in the latter part of high school, and in college as well, people begin to see things, not only with their eyes, but with their souls and minds as well, and on this newfound level, very few things make sense. Very few things fulfill.
As I sat there, on the edge of the Cumberland Plateau, I didn't see a waterfall, some woods, and whatever else was physically there. I heard a song in the fall, and whispers in the water. I don't know if what I heard made any sense, but it felt clearly profound. I felt the water make sense, and it related to me things that no one else knows and that I cannot explain. You have to go. You have to hear it for yourself.

This weekend was oddly spiritual for me. I was too tired out by the hike and several smoke-thickened conversations the night before to make any sense of the sermon that night. I even closed my eyes for a moment, and felt his words wash over me. I leaned back, and breathed them in.

Katie Burriss, once again, has been so gracious to supply the first photo in the post. Many thanks.