Prologue (Part II)

With just a few short weeks of my fourth semester of college left to go, I’ve noticed my focus beginning to wear dangerously thin, and I feel constantly distracted by anything and everything that is not school-related. For example, at the present moment I would probably be better off studying for my test in Economics or working on my presentation for communications class than typing this. Oops.

Thankfully, I am not the kind to let these distractions get too out of hand, but they’re still annoying to deal with, especially with so much left to do before I can head home for summer. Normally, I’m able to control my slipping work ethic, but for whatever reason, this week has been particularly difficult to handle.

You see, when one looks and sees the bright, shining light of summer’s freedom not too far from the end of the outrageously long tunnel of a college semester… well, I can’t really be blamed for my lack of focus on final exams and projects and other various forms of schoolwork which do little more than suck out what’s left of the free time within my schedule, right?

Ah, free time. Sometimes I forget how it used to feel having tons of it just sitting at my feet, waiting for me to take charge and make the most of it.

The messed up part of it all is that as busy as I am from week to week, I don’t feel like I actually do much of anything these days. I mean, I’m doing things all the time, but I’m not really doing anything. I’d much rather be doing a whole lot of something instead; I just don’t know yet what that something should be.

With just a few short weeks of my fourth semester of college left to go, I can’t seem to decide whether I think the glass stands half-empty or half-full.

I only have four semesters of college left. Four semesters left to do some serious soul-searching and try to figure out what exactly it is that I was put on this earth to do. Four semesters left to explore all of the things that I want to learn about and that interest me. Four semesters left until “real life” begins.

I need to make them count.



One day last July, I woke up with the burning desire to create something. I wanted to paint.

I’m really not much of an artist per se, but I can be pretty creative and crafty when the moment strikes. And I really just love to paint; I find it to be very therapeutic and relaxing. I gathered my materials, set up shop in a small corner of my room, and soon my paintbrush was hitting the canvas without any prior planning or thought as to what I actually wanted to end up with.

Fast forward a few hours, and this is what I ended up with: An 8.5×11” canvas with the words “DO EPIC SHIT” painted neatly in large black letters over a beautiful blue ombré background. It was one of the best paintings I had completed in a long time. In fact, I was so proud of my creation that a month later, I hung it over the front door of my new apartment, with the hopes of using it as a daily reminder to do things that are fun and exciting and different and spontaneous.


About a month ago, an old friend of mine drove down from North Carolina to visit me for the day.  Upon arriving, I gave him a quick tour of my apartment before heading to lunch, and on our way out I noticed that he looked up above the door at my painted sign, just for a moment or two, before we left.

When we returned a few hours later, he finally acknowledged the blue sign, then turned and asked me, “Okay. So ‘do epic shit’… What kinds of ‘epic shit’ are you referring to?”

I’m embarrassed to say that after a few moments of trying to figure out how to respond, I couldn’t really give him a straight answer. Of course, I know what those three words mean to me theoretically, but after months of that sign hanging over the door, I could not think of a single day where I had really taken those words to heart and done anything fun or exciting or different or spontaneous. Kind of depressing, right?

Just something I’ve been thinking about lately…