Moonshadow: A Tour of the Campus

By Broadside Managing Editor Aram Zucker-Scharff

I've always been somewhat of an insomniac. I've had trouble sleeping for a while now and even more trouble then usual lately. I wish I could say that it was unusual that I was up at 4 a.m., but it isn't. What was unusual was the urge I felt and acted upon this morning. With the campus still dark and quiet it crept up on me. Uncalled and unexpected.

When I turned 18, I bought a box of cigars. I felt it was the right thing to do. I had fun with hookah, but I was back in NY and 18. Lotto tickets seemed insufficient. So I bought a box. I didn't take cigars out very often. Only on special occasions. To mark something good, or bad. It feels very American to smoke. To say: "I know this can and may very well kill me, but fuck you, I'm doing it anyway." A freedom ideal. There are worse things than dying young – dying too old for example.

Tonight, at 4 a.m., I was not tired, nor even a bit sleepy. I felt worn. But not enough to put me to bed. I'd watched TV, played Xbox and even taken some Tylenol PM earlier, for my headache. I was still wide awake. So I gave in. I rummaged around my room until I found one of the half-unpacked boxes sitting in a corner. There, underneath a router, was the last of my cigars. There were two left. I grabbed the cigars, a jacket and walked outside.

There is something precious about four in the morning. The nightwalkers have gone to sleep and the early birds have yet to wake and I'm walking through the night with a cigar, puffing smoke and feeling its tingle on my tongue. It lets you really look at your surroundings. Tonight I took advantage and really looked at the campus. As I walked around, I realized just how much I love this campus.

I know it is cool to hate Mason. But I don't. This was my first choice. The school I was excited to go to. I applied to others, some better. I got into others, some better. But it didn't matter–here was where I wanted to go.

Our campus has its problems, but they are not all that bad. I make it a policy to regret nothing, and I've never regretted coming here. Tonight, in the crisp air, it felt especially beautiful. I walked through the Student Apartment complexes, up by old Thompson, past the always-lit Fenwick, and paused. Standing there, SUB I to my right, the quad to my left, I was transfixed by the moon.

The crescent moon.

Didn't someone say that the crescent moon is a sign of change? Standing there, doing something I only have done a few times in the last two years, I felt like there was a change coming. A new president, changes to the campus, new responsibilities. Even more so, I felt like I was changing.

Isn't that the stereotypical college attitude? Metaphysical pondering? Who am I? I was standing there at a quarter after four in the morning, staring at the moon, and I felt somewhat lost. I–who have never had a doubt who I was or where I was going–was wondering now. I have found myself somewhere different, but better than expected.

I gathered the campus round me, capturing it in smoke and wrapping it around my body, I walked on. This is my home, from the glass diamonds of the Johnson Center to the glowing clock near the North Plaza. I had traipsed these paths in rain and snow and had followed and led others down them. I know this place like the back of my hand and it was home.

It was just me and Mason, glowing lights and smoke and sound. The low buzz of the campus that you can only hear at half past four in the morning. A pulse that my own heart could fit inside. I was where I wanted to be, I was here and when all else comes crumbling down will still be here, in some shape or form. It is good to know that something prevails. We are known by what we leave behind. This place, this school, I love it here and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I don't need mega events, I don't need basketball, I need to be here, and that's the best start I can have.

We are more than the statue that I stood before, haloing its head in smoke. The bright lights and shined metal is the least of us. This campus at a quarter to five is the most.
I feel a change, it has to happen, and I'm not afraid. Who am I? I am this place, it is stamped into me. The dim light, the cement, the grass, the fountain, the pond. I am here.

What I'm to become, it isn't so sure anymore. I put out my last cigar, now two years old, and whispered under my breath.

"Come and change me."