Fayetteville: its not over yet

One more year.

One more year.

I have come to terms with the fact that I am staying in ARKANSAS for ONE MORE YEAR. Like music to my ears.


I have recently accomplished, what in the past fours years has been semi-torturous, a perfect school schedule. That's right. I have a completely enrolled-in schedule, and it's not even close to the first week of classes! Not only am I fully enrolled, but they are only class that I need (also a first). The best part of all this, in fact the reason this happened at all, is I will graduate in May! For sure, 100%. I had been "planning" on it for some time now, but when asked "So, Kyle, you graduatin' soon?" I would say, "Yeah! Next May actually" with a slight ring of horror in my voice because, until now, I have had some serious doubts whether this was even possible.

Until now, its been like running the 800-meter. You start off fast and excited, ready to take on anything. College is a new adventure that will be fun and liberating. You meet all these new friends. Go to all these cool new places. Its great!
When you finish your first lap, you see the consequences of spending more time having fun than studying, pigeon-holed into a couple of decimals: 0.79

This race suddenly got a lot fucking longer.

After a while, you settle into a good pace and your body goes numb. You go through the motions, putting one foot in front of the other: science credit here, avoid literature class there. Until, it is finally almost over. Yeah...you might not be in the front of the pack, but you're still in the race, damn it. And although your legs are on fire and about to fall off, you can see the finish line. This is what I feel like now. The finish line is so close, but goddamn I'm tired of running around this stupid track!!

Instead of focusing on how long a year is in Arkansas. I have been wondering what it can offer me and what it has been for me.
To me, Fayetteville is rolling hills with Old Main at the top, bicyclists, and potheads. Its the Farmer's Market and Wilson Park, cheap college apartments and Mt. Sequoyah mansions. Its down-home-hick mixed with hippy intellectual. "They'll take our guns!" meets "Peace and love." Its Stir vs. Buster Belly's, fraternity vs. fucking independents. Down here, we go have fun at Devil's Den and venture the Pig Trail. We yell Pig-sooie! and wear red.
And now, after I have watched Fayetteville pick herself up after the ice storm, I know this town means a lot to me. Although I will always be FROM Missouri and don't necessarily plan to live here again, I will look back with a smile at the FIVE YEARS it took me to graduate and the time I've spent in Fayetteville.