Educated White Guy Problems, to the Tune of a Pounding Keyboard

I was lying in a study room in Neihardt Residential Hall.

As with all the study rooms in the building, the furniture was expertly matched. Burnt orange and sage green, in plaids and solids. Both on the chairs, which sat empty, and the plush carpet, on which I lay, gazing at the perfect-blue Nebraska sky dotted with wisps of clouds.

It was the last semester of my undergraduate career. Continue reading