The pollen slapped me across the face this week, and everything yellow made me love spring less these last few weeks in Atlanta before I share my town with the commencement crowd. Does anyone else think that 80 degree temperatures in April makes attending class entirely impossible? Pollen or not, I find myself firmly planted on every sunny bench I see.
Maybe I take things too far by baking on Cox Bridge with no sunscreen. My shirt-shaped tan is as much proof as the freckles on my nose that I spent key daytime hours outside instead of where I ought to have been: well-behaved in what I will forever call the Candler Dungeons.
When there are windows, I sit with my head almost hanging out of their frames but without drawing Spring Fever’s attention, like the dogs in the Morningside mothers’ SUVs, ears flopping in the wind with a carelessness I’m not sure their owners understand. But who am I to judge – my ears only flop today because my nose was buried in yesterday’s grind.
So I’m a little crispy, and sometimes I remember to moisturize the way my father the Sun God used to remind me at some beach or other. But sometimes I don’t. With one month left of the insulation of the college bubble, I might just rebel a little longer. Revel a little longer, irresponsibly, because the real world is still far away.
–By Chloe Olewitz
The Emory Wheel was founded in 1919 and is currently the only independent, student-run newspaper of Emory University. The Wheel publishes weekly on Wednesdays during the academic year, except during University holidays and scheduled publication intermissions.
The Wheel is financially and editorially independent from the University. All of its content is generated by the Wheel’s more than 100 student staff members and contributing writers, and its printing costs are covered by profits from self-generated advertising sales.
