Cororu
Planetoid
- Joined
- Apr 8, 2016
This year, the college session begins at early fall. The air is ripe with the sweet fall scents: crisping leaves, apple sweets, and the youthful enthusiasm for experiences anew. Certainly, there are those of whom approach college with lament or apathy, lethargy in their steps. They begin the ascent with a dull roll that lead to the inevitable downfall but not upon the other side. However, they are the minority. Approaching in droves, the student body comes, and they seek to impress upon themselves the fountains of knowledge gained through proper mentor-mentee relationships. Some will found great medicines and others will craft art that shall rend a soul into a landfill or such a thing that love has forgotten. Yet others more shall grow and learn who they truly are. That, in the truest statement, is the purpose of most college-bound students: self-discovery. Coda is one such student.
Last week, Coda celebrated his 18th birthday, and as though it were a rite of passage, his first task post celebration was to fill out his college application. Certainly, he has his aspirations, but so, too, do his parents. Coda, being the youngest, shall become a great surgeon, so thinks the mother, or a wonderful engineer and master craftsman, so thinks the mother. How disappointed they will be, one day, when Coda emerges with a music degree. Years now, he has been part of a choir, and in compliment, he was part of his school's talented opera club. The club was an unofficial gathering of various musical enthusiasts under the direction of the music teacher. Too small to be an official group, the collective of kids merely sang to their hearts content. They couldn't quite muster the money to perform before the school, but they had their fun with internet uploads. Nothing came of them but pleasure and 10 or so views. Yet, Coda is no longer in high school, no longer bound to the smaller confines of limited purpose and function. No: he now has a chance to perfect his sing-song voice under the professional hand of a college-school'd professor. Yet, logistics come first.
Coda looks for signs and directions to seek his dorm. His parents paid for one, but due to an outing, they didn't have time to tour the facilities. A little lost lamb, he approaches a large, framed map. The lines are clearly marked and his current position is in no doubt. Yet, this does not help Coda. Map reading and spacial awareness are not his forte, a skill lost among his studious nature and singing. He looks around for help, but thus far, having just arrived with the rest of the students, he is among a sea of unfamiliar faces. They move too fast and too rapidly for him to secure assistance. Swept aside like driftwood, he weaves his way around, trying to find someone even remotely official looking if only to guide his person.
Last week, Coda celebrated his 18th birthday, and as though it were a rite of passage, his first task post celebration was to fill out his college application. Certainly, he has his aspirations, but so, too, do his parents. Coda, being the youngest, shall become a great surgeon, so thinks the mother, or a wonderful engineer and master craftsman, so thinks the mother. How disappointed they will be, one day, when Coda emerges with a music degree. Years now, he has been part of a choir, and in compliment, he was part of his school's talented opera club. The club was an unofficial gathering of various musical enthusiasts under the direction of the music teacher. Too small to be an official group, the collective of kids merely sang to their hearts content. They couldn't quite muster the money to perform before the school, but they had their fun with internet uploads. Nothing came of them but pleasure and 10 or so views. Yet, Coda is no longer in high school, no longer bound to the smaller confines of limited purpose and function. No: he now has a chance to perfect his sing-song voice under the professional hand of a college-school'd professor. Yet, logistics come first.
Coda looks for signs and directions to seek his dorm. His parents paid for one, but due to an outing, they didn't have time to tour the facilities. A little lost lamb, he approaches a large, framed map. The lines are clearly marked and his current position is in no doubt. Yet, this does not help Coda. Map reading and spacial awareness are not his forte, a skill lost among his studious nature and singing. He looks around for help, but thus far, having just arrived with the rest of the students, he is among a sea of unfamiliar faces. They move too fast and too rapidly for him to secure assistance. Swept aside like driftwood, he weaves his way around, trying to find someone even remotely official looking if only to guide his person.