Oh, this place ...
Note:
I wrote and attempted to post this a few hours ago, and met with zero success. The computers, like everything else at Antioch, are habitually broken. Here, then, is my second attempt:
There was a graffiti slogan that I always particularly enjoyed while I was a student at Antioch: block handwriting in black Sharpie, simply saying "Oh, this place ..." Whether on the walls of Pennell or MacGregor, I always totally got that sentiment. There really is just something about this place.
I arrived yesterday evening, making it here in record time -- around four hours (and, after spending half an hour stuck in totally stopped traffic on I-79, this really does kind of boggle my mind). I went to securities to find no one around, and the phone broken. I found another phone and reached a human, who had no clue where the keys were. He made a call and found out that Penny had the keys, only no one knew where Penny was. I went to Ha Ha's and found out that Penny was next door at Peach's. We went back to the dorm, I was given a room, and Penny discovered that she had the keys to every room but that one.
Upon telling this story to my mother, she replied "it sounds just like Antioch." Indeed it does.
So now I'm sitting in the Old Olive (Olive Kettering Library, for those non-Antiochians out there), typing on the world's slowest computer ever, and watching the guys outside taking hammers and crowbars to what's left of the front wall of the building. Yes, the Library is crumbling, stairs all roped off, chunks of brick looking like a little Library Stonehenge on the lawn. And hey, better that than what's going on in MacGregor: Apparently there's asbestos in them thar hills. When Scott told me this, I asked "so then I probably shouldn't have spent all those late nights in the basement of MacGregor, licking the walls and inhaling deeply?" Yea, probably not.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Scott also told me that Mark apparently hasn't worked for the college since last summer, and has been commuting to Austin all year long. I had absolutely no clue. And I talked with Susan back in March -- how did I miss this? Scott said Susan's last day at the Nature Center was probably that same month. Yes, she mentioned it had been a rough year, but somehow she never managed to mention that Mark was working in Texas now. There's a chance they may come to Yellow Springs at week's end, as they still have the house here. I would really enjoy to sit with them and hear what the fuck has been going on.
At any rate, I should probably get back to my Record cataloging. I suspect I have more to say, or less to say, or both, or neither. The simplest sentiment is still the one that really says it all for me: Oh, this place ...
I wrote and attempted to post this a few hours ago, and met with zero success. The computers, like everything else at Antioch, are habitually broken. Here, then, is my second attempt:
There was a graffiti slogan that I always particularly enjoyed while I was a student at Antioch: block handwriting in black Sharpie, simply saying "Oh, this place ..." Whether on the walls of Pennell or MacGregor, I always totally got that sentiment. There really is just something about this place.
I arrived yesterday evening, making it here in record time -- around four hours (and, after spending half an hour stuck in totally stopped traffic on I-79, this really does kind of boggle my mind). I went to securities to find no one around, and the phone broken. I found another phone and reached a human, who had no clue where the keys were. He made a call and found out that Penny had the keys, only no one knew where Penny was. I went to Ha Ha's and found out that Penny was next door at Peach's. We went back to the dorm, I was given a room, and Penny discovered that she had the keys to every room but that one.
Upon telling this story to my mother, she replied "it sounds just like Antioch." Indeed it does.
So now I'm sitting in the Old Olive (Olive Kettering Library, for those non-Antiochians out there), typing on the world's slowest computer ever, and watching the guys outside taking hammers and crowbars to what's left of the front wall of the building. Yes, the Library is crumbling, stairs all roped off, chunks of brick looking like a little Library Stonehenge on the lawn. And hey, better that than what's going on in MacGregor: Apparently there's asbestos in them thar hills. When Scott told me this, I asked "so then I probably shouldn't have spent all those late nights in the basement of MacGregor, licking the walls and inhaling deeply?" Yea, probably not.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Scott also told me that Mark apparently hasn't worked for the college since last summer, and has been commuting to Austin all year long. I had absolutely no clue. And I talked with Susan back in March -- how did I miss this? Scott said Susan's last day at the Nature Center was probably that same month. Yes, she mentioned it had been a rough year, but somehow she never managed to mention that Mark was working in Texas now. There's a chance they may come to Yellow Springs at week's end, as they still have the house here. I would really enjoy to sit with them and hear what the fuck has been going on.
At any rate, I should probably get back to my Record cataloging. I suspect I have more to say, or less to say, or both, or neither. The simplest sentiment is still the one that really says it all for me: Oh, this place ...