Still a little (cameron) crazy.

When I was in high school I wanted one thing, and only one thing, so badly that it hurt. It was what I thought about when I hated my life, when I was tired and stressed and couldn't stand another meeting. When I was hungry but had no time to eat, or had a headache and was out of painkillers...I thought about Duke. It was like magic. It was the light at the end of my tunnel. It was the university against which all others were measured. And I was convinced it was my destiny.

It was not.

And I was very very upset when I discovered that. I was upset for a very long time.

And then I moved on and made other decisions and I'm happy to be where I am now.

But part of me, all these years later, still thinks I should have found a way to make it happen. I should have applied earlier. I should have worked harder. I should have found more contacts. I should have kept sending them updates. I should have tried to transfer in.

Something about that campus is holy to me in a way most churches aren't. It was an ideal I never found again. It was higher education that was so much higher than anything else I could imagine. And on top of those libraries and the architecture and the gardens, they had something no other school in the country has: Cameron.

Cameron Indoor Stadium. Mecca, as I called it for a long time. Cameron is tiny compared to most basketball stadiums, but the history there is so deeply etched in the wood that they couldn't move to another stadium for any reason short of a natural disaster decimating the gothic halls. I realize that certain fans (*cough* *cough* tarheels) don't appreciate Cameron. But I do.

I love that building. I look at pictures online. I watch games on tv. I read articles in magazines and newspapers. And the last time I was in there it was off-season and I still felt the magic.

I had a friend visit this weekend. His friend got him a ticket to the Clemson game and he was there. Jumping up and down in MY stadium. And I am still so insanely jealous that looking at his pictures makes my heart hurt, but I keep doing it anyway. He brought me back a shirt.

The shirt. The "Cameron Crazies" shirt.

And for tonight I can almost imagine what it would have been like to wear it the way I wanted to. For four years.

I can almost feel the blue in my blood.

I'm still crazy like that.