This is the story of Winter Carnival. I always wanted the carnival to come to town.
Since I grew up in Chicago, that didn't really happen. In the movies, the carnival always came to town.
There were games and rides and prizes and cotton candy. There was a "Tunnel of Love."
And that's where the first kiss happened. That's always where the first kiss happens.
I heard so much about Carnival when I was a freshman.
It sounded amazing. It sounded like the sort of thing that happened in the movies.
There was debauchery. People skied from building to building. F. Scott Fitzgerald was drunk.
My first Winter Carnival was unremarkable. I don't remember most of it because nothing particularly exciting happened.
The snow sculpture didn't really work out. It was too warm and it fell apart. I think some people probably thought that was a metaphor. I think it was probably just physics or something.
I usually spend the beginning of the term waiting for the big weekend. It always holds so much promise. College did at one point, too. That potential has been realized. Unfortunately, the big weekend doesn't always live up to its potential. This year it will.
Potential is weird. Most things seem to have a lot of it. But most things have a lot of value that goes unrecognized as well.
I sometimes wonder how awe-inspiring the world would be if all that potential were realized.
What lilting beauty would stir the air? Probably none, I guess. It would probably be pretty quiet.
There is nothing quite like walking out your door into the falling snow. The silence is surprising. You can almost touch it.
Snowflakes lazily fall, like the leaves in autumn or paper when a breeze comes through the door.
A few steps out the door, crunches in your wake, life resumes. You try to remember what you have to do that day.
Where will you have lunch? With whom? What parties are you going to that night?
Who do you want to see? Who do you want to be near you? What do you really want?
Then, the headphones go on and it's noisy again.
I don't have any great stories about Carnival. Each year the weekend has passed without fanfare.
Most times, I just enjoy the snow.
I go to the pond. I go play pong. I spend time complaining about how cold it is. I spend time complaining about how warm it is.
I obey social mandates. I drink. I relax. I party. For the most part, it passes like every other weekend.
But there are those moments of quiet that only Carnival can give you.
It's funny that you can find such stillness out in the cold during the middle of Carnival.
My freshman year, I met a girl one night of Carnival. I don't remember too much of that night. I was drunk.
But I remember her well. We got sick of the light and the noise. We needed to get away from the basement, so we left.
We ended up on the Green. We talked. She was from a town. I don't remember the name. She studied psychology. She liked to paint.
She thought that someday we would have world peace. I bought it then.
I haven't decided whether or not I still do.
We talked a little after that night, but not much. Things weren't built or meant to last.
I was fine with that because our interaction had so much potential. Potential is beautiful if you really look at it.
We got away from the drinks and the flair and the noise. We spent the night talking on the Green.
And that's where the first kiss happened. That's always where the first kiss happens.
