I had a curious day visiting Boulder. I traveled by bus, which is an exercise in patience. Given the price of gas, bus travel that has already been purchased (via exorbitant student fees) is more fiscally responsible than pumping tank after tank of fuel into Beatrice. She's my 92 Subaru station wagon, in case you were wondering.
There is a surprising feeling of empowerment that comes from riding the bus, knowing that you can still get where you need to go without your own personal horseless carriage. Perhaps this public transit excitement stems from the lack of any such amusement during my backwoods upbringing. Even West Virginia had the usual horrifying school-bus rides, but that's another post altogether.
It was a quiet day, mostly. I saw friends, did some proof-reading, got a haircut, listened to some choral music, read up on Britten's Hymn to St. Cecilia. The highlight of my day was also quiet, a silent realization that life at school continues in my absence, and that I don't really miss being there. While I loved hearing the voices of the choir, both greeting me and singing in rehearsal, I experienced a calm joy at being finished with that part of my life.
So, a curious, quiet day.