“Home is where the heart is made.” This is why I’m absolutely geeked to type these next 5.5 words: IT’S HOMECOMING WEEK, OHIO UNIVERSITY. For alumni of the fine educational institutions across our great nation, this is the one work week that’s most challenging to concentrate. We feel like how this track sounds and this dude grooves. For my fellow Ohio University Bobcats in particular, it’s I love you guys. I’m not even sure that was a sentence but it’s just where my brain took my fingers after the first clause. Anyway, the magic of Homecoming (proper noun? It’s earned the right for this post) dances with the crisp fall air right now, and I couldn’t be more anxious.
This post wasn’t planned; it was a spontaneous motive after a night of rediscovery. I was curating a playlist of all my dearly beloveds from the days on West State… with bit of assistance from my old iPod Nano. A fuckin’ Nano! I can’t believe I still have it either. The exhilarating rush of nostalgia with every tune inspired me to put some words over the weekend’s imminent soundtrack (see: below).
Homecoming— whatta beautiful peculiarity when I think about it. You essentially have the juxtaposition of the state of health for two things here: the human body and the human soul. On one hand, your physical body will likely experience it’s all-time low at its conclusion– a self-induced Ebola, to make a shitty topical analogy. You know no one is to blame but yourself. On the other hand, your soul undertakes that euphoria all weekend long, rendering any somatic pains as void. As a friend of mine puts it, “We humans are such masochists.” But let’s get strategic about this and iron out the pros and cons. No comment here on personal anecdotes or not…
-Fuck it, you’re all getting your proper noun on too, CI Swayze Bombs; Tony’s Hot Nuts; Pub Lunchboxes; JP’s if they’re still a thing, amirite
Junction J Bar?; Black Widows and Blackouts (I still can’t remember who serves what, Pawpurr’s and Pigskin); Jackie O’s Razz Wheats; Lucky’s Liquor Pitchers…. That’s about as good for the liver as Chris Columbus was to the Native Americans. And I know I’m missing somebody’s favorite signature cocktail out there– for this, I am sorry.
-How many times are we going to Big Mammas?
>Depends on how many times we go to Souvlaki’s.
-At the above establishments, what will be our caloric, trans-fat, saturated fat, carbohydrate, and high-fructose corn syrup intake, respectivelys?
-Insomnia. Shoutout to Court Street for virtually not closing until Sunday. Last year, I started Saturday’s dawn off by getting Iced at the CI like it was 2009. Perfect; I wouldn’t have it any other way.
-I will be staying at my lovely sister’s house near campus come Friday. I have it in good intuition that her quarters, like nearly all on campus, will be absolutely filthy. Not the most hygienically favorable place to shack up in, that Athens…
The temporary bodily bliss will eventually cease, and the anatomy will take its unavoidable place at Rock Bottom come Sunday. And as Bobcats know– every moment will be worth it in the rejuvenations of the soul that this chaotic weekend can bring.
-Before Homecoming weekend even comes to fruition, the rising action is a joy in itself. Texts exchange, tweets retweet, bloggers blog…all due to the unrelenting motivation of the looming reunion. The dopamine bursts I experienced from simply curating the aforementioned playlist cannot be denied.
-Despite the technologies admitted to us now, there’s an undeniable level of Happy when seeing people you love for the first time since either of you can remember. Friendships, relationships, kinships…old and new…they don’t miss a beat with them Bobcats.
-I could lounge in the aura of laughter and smiles that emanate from Court Street until the end of my days, and it only seems to be elevated during Homecoming. If there’s a heaven, this spot wouldn’t be half bad.
-When it comes down to it, there’s nothing more liberating and fulfilling in this overwhelmingly fast-paced, unforgiving world than a Homecoming escape with your closest confidants.
Ah yes, the playlist. Ever nostalgic. I lived in the eccentric confines of 90
West Greg with fellow scribe Wes R. Kasik at Ohio University. His endearing room– The Suite– was a place for us to chill, brainstorm, and go deaf in. It was a place where my taste in music broadened, developed, and ultimately became a focal point of my life.
The move in days of hip-hop. The junior year electronic pop fixation. The dance-centric beats of our final year. The concluding bass frenzy…Everything is re-examined, relived and re-explored. 90 tracks from 90 west– may they resonate another 90 years after Homecoming, and our shared memories even longer.