The End Of Days

"Abandon all hope", they told me as my tentative steps fell upon the threshold of Creative Communications. They bade me to cast aside enjoyment of life, life entirely indeed, and enter the morose machinations of such strenuous studies. They laughed viciously at my misery. And then they wiped the silent tears from my cheeks, and told me they were joking. This year has been revolutionary. This program has so quickly, and so carefully, altered the direction of my life, expanded the scope beyond my wildest expectations. I admit, I knew not what lay in wait for me on that fateful first day so many months ago, and I'm glad I didn't. In this program, each day was eye-opening. From abject terror to exaltation, the polarity in this program is astounding. But as I sit now, fingers dancing frantically upon ivory keys, silent these, I feel resolve. Resolve to create. To imagine. I feel this...

Image courtesy of deviantart.com

When first I began CreComm, I was made glaringly aware of the chasms that separate the program from my time at the University of Winnipeg. The work involved, for example, and the interactions with instructors. However, the hardest thing to get used to, by far, was the choice of clocks. At the University of Winnipeg, every clock was analog, each spun about an axis, endlessly twisting, winding with the seconds. At Red River College, every clock is digital. Burning red numerals announcing the time in no uncertain terms. Initially, it made my skin crawl. It was the most extreme offense. The air was different, more urgent, I felt perpetually behind.

After a time I adjusted to the new sequential system, and re-calibrated my internal cogs accordingly. CreComm calls for an increased rate of production, induced inspiration even. At university I brought my thoughts to bear on my studies when I felt so inclined, and then would write the papers I'd been assigned. In this program, outside activities are often cast away, school deadlines take precedence over starlit night skies and the haunting whistle of locomotives running along rusted tracks. I remember the days of UW, when I would sit outside and listen to the world, simply because it moved me to do so. These days, I still do that, but in between assignments. CreComm demands of one's time, but repays tenfold. I await semesters three and four with slavering jowls. But for now, I step eagerly into the summer. Sweet, sweet freedom...

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