Earlier today I went through a bunch of boxes in the basement, searching for junk to throw out. In the course of my grabbing old computer equipment, reams of old drafts to stories, and other junk just lying around, I came across some of my undergraduate writings for the school newspaper. To the left is one of those pieces.
Ah, you have to love the idealism of youth. It's funny because when I reflect back on my undergraduate years I have a lot of great memories. I remember how my college encouraged us to be creative and to run events on campus. No matter if it were starting a new club, showing horror flicks at night by candle light, or a sleep out for the homeless--we had some great times.
Often, our complaint was: "Not enough people are helping." I'm ashamed to say that outside of the articles on writing that I've had published for the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Workshop, I haven't done much in the area of community service since college.
But I wanted to share with you the memories of my past and how I struggled to convince others to volunteer and to get involved. I still do that today in my hobbies and it's nearly 15 years later.
I've noticed that I try not to reflect back on my earlier works. I know this will sound terrible but I really dislike reading my old works. I'm afraid that I may have made a mistake (I only glanced through the newspaper clipping shown here) and it's stuck forever in print.
Ah, one of my funny little quirks.
In other news: I did go to the Dali exhibit today and I hope to put together some pictures and discuss the experience over the next few days. Take care.