The tiny town on the middle of the prairie where I attend school has been struck by a blizzard. And, like any respectable college student, I compare my suffering to Disney movies. Specifically, I compare my suffering with Disney movies that deal with snow, ice, and all the magical goodness that Minnesota winters bring. Yes, I’m talking about Frozen.
You know the scene, near the end, where Elsa’s emotions spiral so out of control that Arendelle is lost amid a massive swirling cloud? Desperate to melt her frozen heart, our spunky protagonist and the tender-hearted mountain man brave the elements, struggling toward each other through the terrifying cold and whipping snow. Valiantly they push through the storm, determined against all odds to find each other before it’s too late…
That’s how I felt walking to class today.
My face was numb after about thirty seconds and the wind nearly pushed me to the ground several times. Yet still I struggled, putting one foot after another, determined against all odds to reach my destination.
The only difference between my day and Frozen is there was no Kristoff waiting for me on the other side of the blizzard. No. No lovable mountain man to melt the despair I felt at the prospect of risking my life for the sake of my education. In his place was class, professors, and homework.
I wish my life were a Disney movie.