This is a caffeine powered, motivation lacking, desperate attempt at writing for this week. I really love writing for the Odyssey, and I love this quiet relaxed way of stating my opinion, but let's be real; this article is already two days late (Sorry, Sam), and I still don't have a clue what I want to write about so this is me winging it and hoping the outcome isn't too horrible.
Like I'm sure every college kid does, I text my roommate all the time usually to say "I won't be home until late tonight" or something of a similar nature. I say home, but do I really mean it? Yes, I'm residing in this little dorm room for roughly nine months out of the year, but it isn't home. It will never be home.There are bound to be people who disagree with me; who dread going home over the holidays or who would rather stay at school over summer break. I am not one of those people. I love Messiah, I love my classes, and the campus is absolutely beautiful, but it is not home. It is not home because my dogs do not greet me at the door. It is not home because I can't walk to the kitchen table to help my brother with algebra or to help my mother figure out why the printer seems to hate only her (I still get phone calls about this though.). It isn't home because here, I cannot be fully at ease. In my mind, as long as I reside here, there is some sort of deadline I need to be meeting, there is something that absolutely needs my attention even though all I want to do is sleep. With that being said, this is still the place I live. I still come "home" to my dorm at the end of a long day and fling myself into bed to do homework.
This coming week marks our final week of classes for the semester which means, papers, projects, and finals are at their peak. I don't know which paper to write first, or which project to submit to canvas. All I know is that once they're all written, once they're all submitted I can go home. Because home is where the finals are not.